[_À propos_ of Premium Bonds it has been recalled that in his evidence,
given some years ago before a Select Committee, the then Under-
Secretary for Ireland stated that in that distressful country
"lotteries are very much used for religious purposes by people of all
denominations," and that "it would be flying in the face of public
opinion, especially of the great religious bodies, to interfere with
them."]
Murphy has given up charity for ever. He was perhaps fuller of this virtue
than any other body in Ballybun, and his house was packed with things he
had won at raffles. When a brick tore a hole in the Orange drum our
Presbyterian pastor at once got up a bazaar for repairs to the chapel, and
Murphy won the finest silver tea-service this side of the Aran Islands.
Murphy knew no distinctions of race, creed or sex in the holy cause of
charity. When our Methodist minister, who is universally popular, as his
knowledge of a horse would be a credit to any denomination, got up an
Auction Bridge Drive in aid of the Anti-Gambling League, Murphy came home
with three pink antimacassars, a discourse by JEREMY TAYLOR and two months'
pay out of the pocket of McDougal, the organist, who seems to play cards by
ear. But Nemesis was lying in ambush for Murphy.
Three old ladies in Trim decided to get up a Tombola for the poor this
winter, and of course they sent Murphy a sheaf of tickets. As lotteries are
illegal they, being pious, hated them; anyway they decided to call it a
Tombola. They got the whole of Ireland to send them prizes, articles of
vertu and bric-à-brac, and any other old things that are of no use to
anybody, The carriage on the stuff and the printer's bill nearly ruined the
charitable ladies, but, as they said, the Tombola would pay all the
expenses, and if they could knock any more out of it the poor should have
it.
If you sold a dozen tickets you could keep the thirteenth for yourself, and
as Murphy, on account of his charity, was so popular he must have sold
hundreds. People seemed to have an idea that the raffle was for a gondola,
and they thought it would look beautiful on the pond in front of the Town
Hall. Unfortunately our local poetess confirmed this error by writing a
poem about it called "Italy in Ireland," which was produced in _The
Ballybun Binnacle_, with a misprint about the gondolier's "untanned sole,"
which caused a fracas in the editorial office.
Murphy explained to all concerned that perhaps his Italian was rusty, and
anyway his time was so taken up reading lottery-tickets and other
charitable literature that he never knew what it was all for. It was a
Tombola, however, this time, and not a gondola, they were subscribing for.
It was a kind of Italian lottery which the police didn't mind because the
prizes were not in money or anything of value, but just Old Masters and
brick-bracks. Murphy has such a way with him that the editor and the
poetess each took a dozen tickets.
When the result of the draw was published Murphy won six prizes, but no one
grudged him them as he had taken so much trouble. The Grand Prize, a
"statue carved by an Italian artist, the finest bit of sculpture ever seen
in Ireland," was won by our popular grocer, Mr. McAroon. We were all
delighted. People trooped in crowds to McAroon's back-door after closing-
time to toll him so. The police took their names, but the magistrates, who
have a great respect for the fine arts, said that this was a day in the
artistic development of the Cinderella of the West which automatically and
_primâ facie_ regularised an extension of closing-hours.
McAroon said that his religion did not run much to statues, but that, to
show his tolerance to all denominations, especially to those on his books,
he would have it unveiled by his Minister. He would invite the Bishop and
all men of goodwill to be present at the ceremony. He would place it in the
corner of his garden overlooking the esplanade, where it would cheer the
simple mariners coming home after their arduous fishing toils, and perhaps
remind one or two of them (but he would mention no names) of a dozen or so
of porter that had been left unpaid for after a recent wedding.
The Ballybun express carries no goods whatever, except with the connivance
of the guard and driver, who are both very decent Ballybun boys, and will
bring anything down from Dublin for anyone. They promised to carry the
statue themselves from the railway station up to McAroon's house. If the
express was less than three hours late, which it was sure to be if it was
running smoothly, they could just beam-end the statue on its pedestal and
the presiding elder could unveil it with a hammer.
The train was not too late, just punctually late, and the guard had time to
hurry the statue along through the biggest crowd we have had for years in
Ballybun.
The Minister said that he would not open the case with prayer, because it
might give offence to friends of other Christian denominations; he would
just knock the front off and let this matchless piece of statuary from the
blue skies of Italy dazzle them with its beauty. It needed no words from
him, but he would just like to remind any of his flock present that the
collection next Sunday was for the heathen both at home and abroad.
The statue then flashed out on us and left us breathless.
It was the most scandalous thing ever seen in Ballybun; it was Venus rising
from the sea without a stitch. There she stood with one hand raised toward
the sky and the other pointing at the backs of all the pious people in
Ballybun as they hurried indignantly home. Some of them blamed McAroon,
while others said that Murphy knew all the time what a Tombola really was
and that he ought to be ashamed of himself.
The Bishop ordered his people not to deal at McAroon's until Murphy had
removed the scandalous object. So many bitter things were said that
McAroon, who is obstinate when roused, vowed that as long as the sun shone
in heaven the lady should add lustre to his back-yard. The Minister however
tried to move him to a more prayerful spirit.
McAroon said it wouldn't be right to smash up for firewood a marble statue
that had cost five hundred pounds if a penny. The clergyman said that if
everybody stopped away from his store he would lose more than that in a
year, and that in any case, if McAroon suffered, he would suffer in the
holy cause of charity.
McAroon's piety was touched, and he said that in the interests of peace and
holy charity he would agree on a compromise. He had forsooth to keep his
vow and let the lady stop, but she had two outstretched arms and there was
always abundance of family washing on hand in the daytime at all events.
The clergy of all denominations agreed that his decision was in keeping
with the best traditions of a Family Grocer.
Murphy and McAroon made it up publicly. Murphy asked how anyone in Ballybun
could possibly know the Italian bathing regulations. Italy was a godless
country; but "anyway," said he, "hear you me. I have suffered so much in
mind from this that I have done with charity for ever."
Christian peace and friendship reign once more in Ballybun; but any visitor
who desires to see the beauties of Spagnoletti's famous masterpiece (what
McAroon calls his "Anna Dryomeny") without the washing to serve as a veil
must come by night and bring his own matches.
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MINISTERIAL ATTITUDE.
_Wife_ (_to amateur politician_). "NAH THEN--WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? IN
THE 'OUSE O' COMMONS?"]
* * * * *