body's nose: only nothing killed us outright but the pocket-handkerchy!'
“'Hut!' said the other, 'what could we expect from a proud piece like
her, that brings a Manwill* to mass every Sunday, purtending she can
read in it, and Jem Finigan saw the wrong side of the book towards her,
the Sunday of the Purcession!' **
* Manuel--a Catholic Prayer-book.
** The priest described in “Ned M'Keown” having been
educated on the Continent, was one of the first to introduce
the Procession of the Host in that part of the country. The
Consecrated Host, shrined in a silver vessel formed like a
chalice, was borne by a priest under a silken canopy; and to
this the other clergymen present offered up incense from a
censer, whilst they circumambulated the chapel inside and
out, if the day was fine.
“At this hit they both formed another risible junction, quite as
sarcastic as the former--in the midst of which the innocent object of
their censure, dressed in all her obnoxious finery, came up and joined
them. She was scarcely sated--I blush to the very point of my pen during
the manuscription--when the confabulation assumed a character directly
antipodial to that which marked the precedent dialogue.
“'My gracious, Rose, but that's a purty thing you have got in your
gown!--where did you buy it?'
“'Och, thin, not a one of myself likes it over much. I'm sorry I didn't
buy a gingham: I could have got a beautiful patthern, all out, for two
shillings less; but they don't wash so well as this. I bought it in
Paddy McGartland's, Peggy.'
“'Troth, it's nothing else but a great beauty; I didn't see anything on
you this long time that becomes you so well, and I've remarked that you
always look best in white.'
“'Who made it, Rose?' inquired Katty; 'for it sits illegant'
“'Indeed,' replied Rose, 'for the differ of the price, I thought it
better to bring it to Peggy Boyle, and be sartin of not having it
spoiled. Nelly Keenan made the last; and although there was a full
breadth more in it nor this, bad cess to the one of her but spoiled it
on me; it was ever so much too short in the body, and too tight in the
sleeves, and then I had no step at all at all.'
“'The sprush bonnet is exactly the fit for the gown,' observed Katty;
'the black and the white's jist the cut--how many yards had you, Rose?'
“'Jist ten and a half; but the half-yard was for the tucks.'
“'Ay, faix! and brave full tucks she left in it; ten would do me, Rose?'
“'Ten!--no, nor ten and a half; you're a size bigger nor me at the
laste, Peggy; but you'd be asy fitted, you're so well made.'
“'Rose, _darling_,' said Peggy, 'that's a great beauty, and shows off
your complexion all to pieces; you have no notion how well you look in
it and the sprush.'
“In a few minutes after this her namesake, Rose Galh O'Hallaghan, came
towards the chapel, in society with her father, mother, and her two
sisters. The eldest, Mary, was about twenty-one; Rose, who was the
second, about nineteen, or scarcely that; and Nancy, the junior of the
three, about twice seven.
“'There's the O'Hallaghans,' says Rose.
“'Ay,' replied Katty; 'you may talk of beauty, now; did you ever lay
your two eyes on the likes of Rose for downright--musha, if myself knows
what to call it--but, anyhow, she's the lovely crathur to look at.'
“Kind reader, without a single disrespectful insinuation against any
portion of the fair sex, you may judge what Rose O'Hallaghan must have
been, when even these three were necessitated to praise her in her
absence!
“'I'll warrant,' observed Katty, 'we'll soon be after seeing John
O'Callaghan'--(he was my own cousin)--'sthrolling afther them, at his
ase.'
“'Why,' asked Rose, 'what makes you say that?'
“'Bekase,' replied the other, I've a rason for it.'
“'Sure John O'Callaghan wouldn't be thinking of her,' observed Rose,
'and their families would see other shot: their factions would never
have a crass marriage, anyhow.'
“'Well,' said Peggy, 'it's the thousand pities that the same two
couldn't go together; for fair and handsome as Rose is, you'll not deny
but John comes up to her; but I faix! sure enough it's they that's the
proud people on both sides, and dangerous to make or meddle with, not
saying that ever there was the likes of the same two for dacency and
peaceableness among either of the factions.'
“'Didn't I tell yez?' cried Katty; 'look at him now staling afther her;
and it'll be the same thing going home again; and, if Rose is not much
belied, it's not a bit displasing to her.'
“'Between ourselves, observed Peggy, it would be no wondher the darling
young crathur would fall in love with him; for you might thravel the
country afore you'd meet with his fellow for face and figure.'
“'There's Father Ned,' remarked Katty; 'we had betther get into the
chapel before the _scroodgin_ comes an, or your bonnet and gown, Rose,
won't be the betther for it.'
“They now proceeded to the chapel, and those who had been amusing
themselves after the same mode, followed their exemplar. In a short time
the hedges and ditches adjoining the chapel were quite in solitude, with
the exception of a few persons from the extreme parts of the parish, who
might be seen running with all possible velocity 'to overtake mass,' as
the phrase on that point expresses itself.
“The chapel of Knockimdowny was situated at the foot of a range of lofty
mountains; a by-road went past the very door, which had under subjection
a beautiful extent of cultivated country, diversificated by hill and
dale, or rather by hill and hollow; for, as far as my own geographical
knowledge goes, I have uniformly found them inseparable. It was also
ornamented with the waving verdure of rich corn-fields and meadows, not
pretermitting phatie-fields in full blossom--a part of rural landscape
which, to my utter astonishment, has escaped the pen of poet, and the
brush of painter; although I will risk my reputation as a man of pure
and categorical taste, if a finer ingredient in the composition of a
landscape could be found than a field of Cork-fed phaties or Moroky
_blacks_ in full bloom, allowing a man to judge by the pleasure they
confer upon the eye, and therefore to the heart. About a mile up from
the chapel, towards the south, a mountain-stream, not the one already
intimated--over which there was no bridge, crossed the road. But in lieu
of a bridge, there was a long double plank laid over it, from bank to
bank; and as the river was broad, and not sufficiently incarcerated
within its channel, the neighbors were necessitated to throw these
planks across the narrowest part they could find in the contiguity of
the road. This part was consequently the deepest, and, in floods, the
most dangerous; for the banks were elevated as far as they went, and
quite tortuositous.
“Shortly after the priest had entered the chapel, it was observed
that the hemisphere became, of a sudden, unusually obscure, though the
preceding part of the day had not only been uncloudously bright, but hot
in a most especial manner. The obscurity, however, increased rapidly,
accompanied by that gloomy stillness which always takes precedence of a
storm, and fills the mind with vague and interminable terror. But this
ominous silence was not long unfractured; for soon after the first
appearance of the gloom, a flash of lightning quivered through the
chapel, followed by an extragavantly loud clap of thunder, which shook
the very glass in the windows, and filled the congregation to the brim
with terror. Their dismay, however, would have been infinitely greater,
only for the presence of his Reverence, and the confidence which might
be traced to the solemn occasion on which they were assimilated.
“From this moment the storm became progressive in dreadful magnitude,
and the thunder, in concomitance with the most vivid flashes of
lightning, pealed through the sky, with an awful grandeur and
magnificence, that were exalted and even rendered more sublime by
the still solemnity of religious worship. Every heart now prayed
fervently--every spirit shrunk into a deep sense of its own guilt and
helplessness--and every conscience was terror-stricken, as the voice of
an angry God thundered out of his temple of storms though the heavens;
for truly, as the Authorized Version has it, 'darkness was under his
feet, and his pavilion round about was dark waters, and thick clouds of
the skies, because he was wroth.'
“The rain now condescended in even-down torrents, and thunder succeeded
thunder in deep and terrific peals, whilst the roar of the gigantic
echoes that deepened and reverberated among the glens and hollows,
'laughing in their mountain mirth,'--hard fortune to me, but they made
the flesh creep on my bones!
“This lasted for an hour, when the thunder slackened: but the rain still
continued. As soon as mass was over, and the storm had elapsed, except
an odd peal which might be heard rolling at a distance behind the hills,
the people began gradually to repover their spirits, and enter into
confabulation; but to venture out was still impracticable. For
about another hour it rained incessantly, after which it ceased; the
hemisphere became lighter--and the sun shone out once more upon the
countenance of nature with its former brightness. The congregation then
decanted itself out of the chapel--the spirits of the people dancing
with that remarkable buoyancy or juvenility which is felt after a
thunderstorm, when the air is calm, soople, and balmy--and all nature
garmented with glittering verdure and light. The crowd next began to
commingle on their way home, and to make the usual observations upon the
extraordinary storm which had just passed, and the probable effect it
would produce on the fruit and agriculture of the neighborhood.
“When the three young women, whom we have already introduced to our
respectable readers, had evacuated the chapel, they determined to
substantiate a certitude, as far as their observation could reach, as
to the truth of what Kitty Carroll had hinted at, in reference to John
O'Callaghan's attachment to Rose Galh O'Hallaghan, and her taciturn
approval of it. For this purpose they kept their eye upon John, who
certainly seemed in no especial hurry home, but lingered upon the chapel
green in a very careless method. Rose Galh, however, soon made her
appearance, and, after going up the chapel-road a short space, John
slyly walked at some distance behind, without seeming to pay her any
particular notice, whilst a person up to the secret might observe Rose's
bright eye sometimes peeping back to see if he was after her. In this
manner they proceeded until they came to the river, which, to their
great alarm, was almost fluctuating over its highest banks.
“A crowd was now assembled, consulting as to the safest method of
crossing the planks, under which the red boiling current ran, with less
violence, it is true, but much deeper than in any other part of the
stream. The final decision was, that the very young and the old, and
such as were feeble, should proceed by a circuit of some miles to a
bridge that crossed it, and that the young men should place themselves
on their knees along the planks, their hands locked in each other, thus
forming a support on one side, upon which such as had courage to venture
across might lean, in case of accident or megrim. Indeed, anybody that
had able nerves might have crossed the planks without this precaution,
had they been dry; but, in consequence of the rain, and the frequent
attrition of feet, they were quite slippery; and, besides, the flood
rolled terrifically two or three yards below them, which might be apt to
beget a megrim that would not be felt if there was no flood.
“When this expedient had been hit upon, several young men volunteered
themselves to put it in practice; and in a short time a considerable
number of both sexuals crossed over, without the occurrence of any
unpleasant accident. Paddy O'Hallaghan and his family had been stationed
for some time on the bank, watching the success of the plan; and as
it appeared not to be attended with any particular danger, they also
determined to make the attempt. About a perch below the planks stood
John O'Callaghan, watching the progress of those who were crossing
them, but taking no part in what was going forward. The river, under the
planks, and for some perches above and below them, might be about ten
feet deep; but to those who could swim, it was less perilous, should any
accident befall them, than those parts where the current was more rapid,
but shallower. The water here boiled, and bubbled, and whirled about;
but it was slow, and its yellow surface unbroken by rocks or fords.
“The first of the O'Hallaghans that ventured over it was the youngest,
who, being captured by the hand, was encouraged by many cheerful
expressions from the young men who were clinging to the planks. She got
safe over, however; and when she came to the end, one who was stationed
on the bank gave her a joyous pull, that translated her several yards
upon terra firma.
“'Well, Nancy,' he observed, 'you're safe, anyhow; and if I don't dance
at your wedding for this, I'll never say you're dacent.'
“To this Nancy gave a jocular promise, and he resumed his station, that
he might be ready to render similar assistance to her next sister. Rose
Galh then went to the edge of the plank several times, but her courage
as often refused to be forthcoming. During her hesitation, John
O'Callaghan stooped down, and privately untied his shoes, then
unbuttoned his waistcoat, and very gently, being unwilling to
excite notice, slipped the knot of his cravat. At long last, by the
encouragement of those who were on the plank, Rose attempted the
passage, and had advanced as far as the middle of it, when a fit of
dizziness and alarm seized her with such violence, that she lost all
consciousness--a circumstance of which those who handed her along were
ignorant. The consequence, as might be expected, was dreadful; for as
one of the young men was receiving her hand, that he might pass her to
the next, she lost her momentum, and was instantaneously precipitated
into the boiling current.
“The wild and fearful cry of horror that succeeded this cannot be laid
on paper. The eldest sister fell into strong convulsions, and several
of the other females fainted on the spot. The mother did not faint;
but, like Lot's wife, she seemed to be translated into stone: her hands
became clenched convulsively, her teeth locked, her nostrils dilated,
and her eyes shot half way out of her head. There she stood, looking
upon her daughter struggling in the flood, with a fixed gaze or wild and
impotent frenzy, that, for fearful ness, beat the thunder-storm all to
nothing. The father rushed to the edge of the river, oblivious of his
incapability to swim, determined to save her or lose his own life, which
latter would have been a dead certainty, had he ventured; but he was
prevented by the crowd, who pointed out to him the madness of such a
project.
“'For God's sake, Paddy, don't attimpt it,' they exclaimed, 'except
you wish to lose your own life, without being able to save hers: no man
could swim in that flood, and it upwards of ten feet deep.'
“Their arguments, however, were lost upon him; for, in fact, he was
insensible to everything but his child's preservation. He, therefore,
only answered their remonstrances by attempting to make another plunge
into the river.
“'Let me alone, will yez,' said he--'let me alone! I'll either save my
child, Rose, or die along with her! How could I live after her? Merciful
God, any of them but her! Oh! Rose, darling,' he exclaimed, 'the
favorite of my heart--will no one save you?' All this passed in less
than a minute.
“'Just as these words were uttered, a plunge was heard a few yards below
the bridge, and a man appeared in the flood, making his way with rapid
strokes to the drowning girl. Another cry now arose from the spectators:
'It's John O'Callaghan,' they shouted--'it's John O'Callaghan, and
they'll both be lost.' 'No,' exclaimed others; 'if it's in the power of
man to save her, he will!' 'O, blessed father, she's lost!' now burst
from all present; for, after having struggled and been kept floating for
some time by her garments, she at length sunk, apparently exhausted and
senseless, and the thief of a flood flowed over her, as if she had not
been under it's surface.
“When O'Callaghan saw that she went down, he raised himself up in the
water, and cast his eye towards that part of the bank opposite which she
disappeared, evidently, as it proved, that he might have a mark to guide
him in fixing on the proper spot where to plunge after her. When he came
to the place, he raised himself again in the stream, and, calculating
that she must by this time have been borne some distance from the spot
where she sank, he gave a stroke or two down the river, and disappeared
after her. This was followed by another cry of horror and despair,
for somehow, the idea of desolation which marks, at all times, a deep,
over-swollen torrent, heightened by the bleak mountain scenery around
them, and the dark, angry voracity of the river where they had sunk,
might have impressed the spectators with utter hopelessness as to the
fate of those now engulfed in its vortex. This, however, I leave to
those who are deeper read in philosophy than I am.
“An awful silence succeeded the last shrill exclamation, broken only by
the hoarse rushing of the waters, whose wild, continuous roar, booming
hollowly and dismally in the ear, might be heard at a great distance
over all the country. But a new sensation soon invaded the multitude;
for after the lapse of about half a minute, John O'Callaghan emerged
from the flood, bearing in his sinister hand the body of his own Rose
Galh--for it's he that loved her tenderly. A peal of joy congratulated
them from the assembled crowd; hundreds of directions were given to him
how to act to the best advantage. Two young men in especial, who were
both dying about the lovely creature that he held, were quite anxious to
give advice.
“'Bring her to the other side, John, ma bouchal; it's the safest,' said
Larry Carty.
“'Will you let him alone, Carty?' said Simon Tracy, who was the other,
'you'll only put him in a perplexity.'
“But Carty should order in spite of every thing. He kept bawling out,
however, so loud, that John raised his eye to see what he meant, and was
near losing hold of Rose. This was too much for Tracy, who ups with his
fist, and downs him--so they both at it; for no one there could take
themselves off those that were in danger, to interfere between them.
But at all events, no earthly thing can happen among Irishmen without a
fight.
“The father, during this, stood breathless, his hands clasped, and
his eyes turned to heaven, praying in anguish for the delivery of his
darling. The mother's look was still wild and fixed, her eyes glazed,
and her muscles hard and stiff; evidently she was insensible to all that
was going forward; while large drops of paralytic agony hung upon her
cold brow. Neither of the sisters had yet recovered, nor could those
who supported them turn their eyes from the more imminent danger, to pay
them any particular attention. Many, also, of the other females, whose
feelings were too much wound up when the accident occurred, now fainted,
when they saw she was likely to be rescued; but most of them were
weeping with delight and gratitude.
“When John brought her to the surface, he paused for a moment to recover
breath and collectedness; he then caught her by the left arm, near
the shoulder, and cut, in a slanting direction, down the stream, to a
watering place, where a slope had been formed in the bank. But he was
already too far down to be able to work across the stream to this point;
for it was here much stronger and more rapid than under the planks.
Instead, therefore, of reaching the slope, he found himself in spite
of every effort to the contrary, about a perch below it; and, except he
could gain this point, against the strong rush of the flood, there was
very little hope of being able to save either her or himself--for he was
now much exhausted.
“Hitherto, therefore, all was still doubtful, whilst strength was fast
failing him. In this trying and almost hopeless situation, with an
admirable presence of mind, he adopted the only expedient which could
possibly enable him to reach the bank. On finding himself receding down,
instead of advancing up the current, he approached the bank, which was
here very deep and perpendicular; he then sank his fingers into and
pressed his right foot against the firm blue clay with which it was
stratified, and by this means advanced, bit by bit, up the stream,
having no other force by which to propel himself against it. After this
mode did he breast the current with all his strength--which must have
been prodigious, or he never could have borne it out--until he reached
the slope, and got from the influence of the tide, into dead water. On
arriving here, his hand was caught by one of the young men present, who
stood up to the neck, waiting his approach. A second man stood behind
him, holding his other hand, a link being thus formed, that reached out
to the firm bank; and a good pull now brought them both to the edge
of the river. On finding bottom, John took his Colleen Galh in his own
arms, carried her out, and pressing his lips to hers, laid her in
the bosom of her father; then, after taking another kiss of the young
drowned flower, he burst into tears, and fell powerless beside her. The
truth is, the spirit that had kept him firm was now exhausted; both his
legs and arms having become nerveless by the exertion.
“Hitherto her father took no notice of John, for how could he? seeing
that he was entirely wrapped up in his daughter; and the question was,
though rescued from the flood, if life was in her. The sisters were by
this time recovered, and weeping over her, along with the father--and,
indeed, with all present; but the mother could not be made to comprehend
what they were about at all at all. The country people used every means
with which they were intimate to recover Rose; she was brought instantly
to a farmer's house beside the spot, put into a warm bed, covered over
with hot salt, wrapped in half-scorched blankets, and made subject to
every other mode of treatment that could possibly revoke the functions
of life. John had now got a dacent draught of whiskey, which revived
him. He stood over her, when he could be admitted, watching for the
symptomatics of her revival; all, however, was vain. He now determined
to try another course: by-and-by he stooped, put his mouth to her mouth,
and, drawing in his breath, respired with all his force from the bottom
of his very heart into hers; this he did several times rapidly--faith,
a tender and agreeable operation, any how. But mark the consequence:
in less than a minute her white bosom heaved--her breath returned--her
pulse began to play--she opened her eyes, and felt his tears of love
raining warmly on her pale cheek!
“For years before this no two of these opposite factions had spoken, nor
up to this minute had John and they, even upon this occasion, exchanged
a monosyllable. The father now looked at him--the tears stood afresh in
his eyes; he came forward--stretched out his hand--it was received; and
the next moment he fell upon John's neck, and cried like an infant.
“When Rose recovered, she seemed as if striving to recordate what had
happened; and, after two or three minutes, inquired from her sister, in
a weak but sweet voice, 'Who saved me?'
“''Twas John O'Callaghan, Rose darling,' replied the sister, in tears,
'that ventured his own life into the boiling flood, to save yours--and
did save it, jewel!'
“Rose's eye glanced at John--and I only wish, as I am a bachelor not
further than my forty-fourth, that I may ever have the happiness to get
such a glance from two blue eyes, as she gave him that moment--a faint
smile played about her mouth, and a slight blush lit up her fair cheek,
like the evening sunbeams on the virgin snow, as the poets have said for
the five-hundredth time, to my own personal knowledge. She then extended
her hand, which John, you may be sure, was no way backward in receiving,
and the tears of love and gratitude ran silently down her cheeks.