Malowney, for he paid no attintion the rest of the evening to any soart
of divarsion but the whisky alone; an' every glass he'd drink it's what
he'd be wishing the divil had the women, an' the worst iv bad luck to
all soarts iv courting, until, at last, wid the goodness iv the sperits,
an' the badness iv his temper, an' the constant flusthration iv cursin',
he grew all as one as you might say almost, saving your presince,
bastely drunk!
Well, who should he fall in wid, in that childish condition, as he was
deploying along the road almost as straight as the letter S, an' cursin'
the girls, an' roarin' for more whisky, but the recruiting-sargent iv
the Welsh Confusileers.
So, cute enough, the sargent begins to convarse him, an' it was not long
until he had him sitting in Murphy's public-house, wid an elegant dandy
iv punch before him, an' the king's money safe an' snug in the lowest
wrinkle of his breeches-pocket.
So away wid him, and the dhrums and fifes playing, an' a dozen more
unforthunate bliggards just listed along with him, an' he shakin' hands
wid the sargent, and swearin' agin the women every minute, until, be the
time he kem to himself, begorra, he was a good ten miles on the road to
Dublin, an' Molly and all behind him.
It id be no good tellin' you iv the letters he wrote to her from the
barracks there, nor how she was breaking her heart to go and see him
just wanst before he'd go; but the father an' mother would not allow iv
it be no manes.
An' so in less time than you'd be thinkin' about it, the colonel had him
polished off into it rale elegant soger, wid his gun exercise, and his
bagnet exercise, and his small sword, and broad sword, and pistol and
dagger, an' all the rest, an' then away wid him on boord a man-a-war to
furrin parts, to fight for King George agin Bonyparty, that was great in
them times.
Well, it was very soon in everyone's mouth how Billy Malowney was batin'
all before him, astonishin' the ginerals, an frightenin' the inimy to
that degree, there was not a Frinchman dare say parley voo outside of
the rounds iv his camp.
You may be sure Molly was proud iv that same, though she never spoke a
word about it; until at last the news kem home that Billy Malowney was
surrounded an' murdered by the Frinch army, under Napoleon Bonyparty
himself. The news was brought by Jack Brynn Dhas, the peddlar, that said
he met the corporal iv the regiment on the quay iv Limerick, an' how he
brought him into a public-house and thrated him to a naggin, and got all
the news about poor Billy Malowney out iv him while they war dhrinkin'
it; an' a sorrowful story it was.
The way it happened, accordin' as the corporal tould him, was jist how
the Jook iv Wellington detarmined to fight a rale tarin' battle wid the
Frinch, and Bonyparty at the same time was aiqually detarmined to fight
the divil's own scrimmidge wid the British foorces.
Well, as soon as the business was pretty near ready at both sides,
Bonyparty and the general next undher himself gets up behind a bush, to
look at their inimies through spyglasses, and thry would they know any
iv them at the distance.
'Bedadad!' says the gineral, afther a divil iv a long spy, 'I'd bet half
a pint,' says he, 'that's Bill Malowney himself,' says he, 'down there,'
says he.
'Och!' says Bonypart, 'do you tell me so?' says he--'I'm fairly
heart-scalded with that same Billy Malowney,' says he; 'an' I think if I
was wanst shut iv him I'd bate the rest iv them aisy,' says he.
'I'm thinking so myself,' says the gineral, says he; 'but he's a tough
bye,' says he.
'Tough!' says Bonypart, 'he's the divil,' says he.
'Begorra, I'd be better plased.' says the gineral, says he, 'to take
himself than the Duke iv Willinton,' says he, 'an' Sir Edward Blakeney
into the bargain,' says he.
'The Duke of Wellinton and Gineral Blakeney,' says Bonypart, 'is great
for planning, no doubt,' says he; 'but Billy Malowney's the boy for
ACTION,' says he--'an' action's everything, just now,' says he.
So wid that Bonypart pushes up his cocked hat, and begins scratching his
head, and thinning and considherin' for the bare life, and at last says
he to the gineral:
'Gineral Commandher iv all the Foorces,' says he, 'I've hot it,' says
he: 'ordher out the forlorn hope,' says he, 'an' give them as much
powdher, both glazed and blasting,' says he, 'an' as much bullets do
ye mind, an' swan-dhrops an' chain-shot,' says he, 'an' all soorts iv
waipons an' combustables as they can carry; an' let them surround Bill
Malowney,' says he, 'an' if they can get any soort iv an advantage,'
says he, 'let them knock him to smithereens,' says he, 'an' then take
him presner,' says he; 'an' tell all the bandmen iv the Frinch army,'
says he, 'to play up "Garryowen," to keep up their sperits,' says he,
'all the time they're advancin'. An' you may promise them anything you
like in my name,' says he; for, by my sowl, I don't think its many iv
them 'ill come back to throuble us,' says he, winkin' at him.
So away with the gineral, an' he ordhers out the forlorn hope, all'
tells the band to play, an' everything else, just as Bonypart desired
him. An' sure enough, whin Billy Malowney heerd the music where he
was standin' taking a blast of the dhudheen to compose his mind for
murdherin' the Frinchmen as usual, being mighty partial to that tune
intirely, he cocks his ear a one side, an' down he stoops to listen to
the music; but, begorra, who should be in his rare all the time but a
Frinch grannideer behind a bush, and seeing him stooped in a convanient
forum, bedad he let flies at him sthraight, and fired him right forward
between the legs an' the small iv the back, glory be to God! with what
they call (saving your presence) a bum-shell.
Well, Bill Malowney let one roar out iv him, an' away he rowled over the
field iv battle like a slitther (as Bonypart and the Duke iv Wellington,
that was watching the manoeuvres from a distance, both consayved) into
glory.
An' sure enough the Frinch was overjoyed beyant all bounds, an' small
blame to them--an' the Duke of Wellington, I'm toult, was never all out
the same man sinst.
At any rate, the news kem home how Billy Malowney was murdhered by the
Frinch in furrin parts.
Well, all this time, you may be sure, there was no want iv boys comin'
to coort purty Molly Donovan; but one way ar another, she always
kept puttin' them off constant. An' though her father and mother was
nathurally anxious to get rid of her respickably, they did not like to
marry her off in spite iv her teeth.
An' this way, promising one while and puttin' it off another, she
conthrived to get on from one Shrove to another, until near seven years
was over and gone from the time when Billy Malowney listed for furrin
sarvice.
It was nigh hand a year from the time whin the news iv Leum-a-rinka
bein' killed by the Frinch came home, an' in place iv forgettin' him,
as the saisins wint over, it's what Molly was growin' paler and more
lonesome every day, antil the neighbours thought she was fallin' into a
decline; and this is the way it was with her whin the fair of Lisnamoe
kem round.
It was a beautiful evenin', just at the time iv the reapin' iv the oats,
and the sun was shinin' through the red clouds far away over the hills
iv Cahirmore.
Her father an' mother, an' the boys an' girls, was all away down in the
fair, and Molly Sittin' all alone on the step of the stile, listening
to the foolish little birds whistlin' among the leaves--and the sound of
the mountain-river flowin' through the stones an' bushes--an' the crows
flyin' home high overhead to the woods iv Glinvarlogh--an' down in the
glen, far away, she could see the fair-green iv Lisnamoe in the mist,
an' sunshine among the grey rocks and threes--an' the cows an' the
horses, an' the blue frieze, an' the red cloaks, an' the tents, an'
the smoke, an' the ould round tower--all as soft an' as sorrowful as a
dhrame iv ould times.
An' while she was looking this way, an' thinking iv Leum-a-rinka--poor
Bill iv the dance, that was sleepin' in his lonesome glory in the fields
iv Spain--she began to sing the song he used to like so well in the ould
times--
'Shule, shule, shale a-roon;'
an' when she ended the verse, what do you think but she heard a manly
voice just at the other side iv the hedge, singing the last words over
again!
Well she knew it; her heart flutthered up like a little bird that id
be wounded, and then dhropped still in her breast. It was himself. In a
minute he was through the hedge and standing before her.
'Leum!' says she.
'Mavourneen cuishla machree!' says he; and without another word they
were locked in one another's arms.
Well, it id only be nansinse for me thryin' an' tell ye all the foolish
things they said, and how they looked in one another's faces, an'
laughed, an' cried, an' laughed again; and how, when they came to
themselves, and she was able at last to believe it was raly Billy
himself that was there, actially holdin' her hand, and lookin' in her
eyes the same way as ever, barrin' he was browner and boulder, an' did
not, maybe, look quite as merry in himself as he used to do in former
times--an' fondher for all, an' more lovin' than ever--how he tould her
all about the wars wid the Frinchmen--an' how he was wounded, and left
for dead in the field iv battle, bein' shot through the breast, and how
he was discharged, an' got a pinsion iv a full shillin' a day--and
how he was come back to liv the rest iv his days in the sweet glen iv
Lisnamoe, an' (if only SHE'D consint) to marry herself in spite iv them
all.
Well, ye may aisily think they had plinty to talk about, afther seven
years without once seein' one another; and so signs on, the time flew by
as swift an' as pleasant as a bird on the wing, an' the sun wint down,
an' the moon shone sweet an' soft instead, an' they two never knew a
ha'porth about it, but kept talkin' an' whisperin', an' whisperin' an'
talkin'; for it's wondherful how often a tinder-hearted girl will bear
to hear a purty boy tellin' her the same story constant over an' over;
ontil at last, sure enough, they heerd the ould man himself comin' up
the boreen, singin' the 'Colleen Rue'--a thing he never done barrin'
whin he had a dhrop in; an' the misthress walkin' in front iv him, an'
two illigant Kerry cows he just bought in the fair, an' the sarvint boys
dhriving them behind.
'Oh, blessed hour!' says Molly, 'here's my father.'
'I'll spake to him this minute,' says Bill.
'Oh, not for the world,' says she; 'he's singin' the "Colleen Rue,"'
says she, 'and no one dar raison with him,' says she.
'An' where 'll I go, thin?' says he, 'for they're into the haggard an
top iv us,' says he, 'an' they'll see me iv I lep through the hedge,'
says he.
'Thry the pig-sty,' says she, 'mavourneen,' says she, 'in the name iv
God,' says she.
'Well, darlint,' says he, 'for your sake,' says he, 'I'll condescend to
them animals,' says he.
An' wid that he makes a dart to get in; bud, begorra, it was too
late--the pigs was all gone home, and the pig-sty was as full as the
Burr coach wid six inside.
'Och! blur-an'-agers,' says he, 'there is not room for a suckin'-pig,'
says he, 'let alone a Christian,' says he.
'Well, run into the house, Billy,' says she, 'this minute,' says she,
'an' hide yourself antil they're quiet,' says she, 'an' thin you can
steal out,' says she, 'anknownst to them all,' says she.
'I'll do your biddin', says he, 'Molly asthore,' says he.
'Run in thin,' says she, 'an' I'll go an' meet them,' says she.
So wid that away wid her, and in wint Billy, an' where 'id he hide
himself bud in a little closet that was off iv the room where the ould
man and woman slep'. So he closed the doore, and sot down in an ould
chair he found there convanient.
Well, he was not well in it when all the rest iv them comes into the
kitchen, an' ould Tim Donovan singin' the 'Colleen Rue' for the bare
life, an' the rest iv them sthrivin' to humour him, and doin' exactly
everything he bid them, because they seen he was foolish be the manes iv
the liquor.
Well, to be sure all this kep' them long enough, you may be sure, from
goin' to bed, so that Billy could get no manner iv an advantage to get
out iv the house, and so he sted sittin' in the dark closet in state,
cursin' the 'Colleen Rue,' and wondherin' to the divil whin they'd get
the ould man into his bed. An', as if that was not delay enough,
who should come in to stop for the night but Father O'Flaherty, of
Cahirmore, that was buyin' a horse at the fair! An' av course, there was
a bed to be med down for his raverence, an' some other attintions; an' a
long discoorse himself an' ould Mrs. Donovan had about the slaughter iv
Billy Malowney, an' how he was buried on the field iv battle; an' his
raverence hoped he got a dacent funeral, an' all the other convaniences
iv religion. An' so you may suppose it was pretty late in the night
before all iv them got to their beds.
Well, Tim Donovan could not settle to sleep at all at all, an' so
he kep' discoorsin' the wife about the new cows he bought, an' the
stripphers he sould, an' so an for better than an hour, ontil from one
thing to another he kem to talk about the pigs, an' the poulthry; and
at last, having nothing betther to discoorse about, he begun at his
daughter Molly, an' all the heartscald she was to him be raison iv
refusin' the men. An' at last says he:
'I onderstand,' says he, 'very well how it is,' says he. 'It's how she
was in love,' says he, 'wid that bliggard, Billy Malowney,' says he,
'bad luck to him!' says he; for by this time he was coming to his
raison.
'Ah!' says the wife, says she, 'Tim darlint, don't be cursin' them
that's dead an' buried,' says she.
'An' why would not I,' says he, 'if they desarve it?' says he.
'Whisht,' says she, 'an' listen to that,' says she. 'In the name of the
Blessed Vargin,' says she, 'what IS it?' says she.
An' sure enough what was it but Bill Malowney that was dhroppin' asleep
in the closet, an' snorin' like a church organ.
'Is it a pig,' says he, 'or is it a Christian?'
'Arra! listen to the tune iv it,' says she; 'sure a pig never done the
like is that,' says she.
'Whatever it is,' says he, 'it's in the room wid us,' says he. 'The Lord
be marciful to us!' says he.
'I tould you not to be cursin',' says she; 'bad luck to you,' says she,
'for an ommadhaun!' for she was a very religious woman in herself.
'Sure, he's buried in Spain,' says he; 'an' it is not for one little
innocent expression,' says he, 'he'd be comin' all that a way to annoy
the house,' says he.
Well, while they war talkin', Bill turns in the way he was sleepin'
into an aisier imposture; and as soon as he stopped snorin' ould Tim
Donovan's courage riz agin, and says he:
'I'll go to the kitchen,' says he, 'an' light a rish,' says he.
An' with that away wid him, an' the wife kep' workin' the beads all the
time, an' before he kem back Bill was snorin' as loud as ever.
'Oh! bloody wars--I mane the blessed saints about us!--that deadly
sound,' says he; 'it's going on as lively as ever,' says he.
'I'm as wake as a rag,' says his wife, says she, 'wid the fair
anasiness,' says she. 'It's out iv the little closet it's comin,' says
she.
'Say your prayers,' says he, 'an' hould your tongue,' says he, 'while
I discoorse it,' says he. 'An' who are ye,' says he, 'in the name iv of
all the holy saints?' says he, givin' the door a dab iv a crusheen that
wakened Bill inside. 'I ax,' says he, 'who are you?' says he.
Well, Bill did not rightly remember where in the world he was, but he
pushed open the door, an' says he:
'Billy Malowney's my name,' says he, 'an' I'll thank ye to tell me a
betther,' says he.
Well, whin Tim Donovan heard that, an' actially seen that it was Bill
himself that was in it, he had not strength enough to let a bawl out iv
him, but he dhropt the candle out iv his hand, an' down wid himself on
his back in the dark.
Well, the wife let a screech you'd hear at the mill iv Killraghlin,
an'--
'Oh,' says she, 'the spirit has him, body an' bones!' says she. 'Oh,
holy St. Bridget--oh, Mother iv Marcy--oh, Father O'Flaherty!' says she,
screechin' murdher from out iv her bed.
Well, Bill Malowney was not a minute remimberin' himself, an' so out wid
him quite an' aisy, an' through the kitchen; bud in place iv the door
iv the house, it's what he kem to the door iv Father O'Flaherty's little
room, where he was jist wakenin' wid the noise iv the screechin' an'
battherin'; an' bedad, Bill makes no more about it, but he jumps, wid
one boult, clever an' clane into his raverance's bed.
'What do ye mane, you uncivilised bliggard?' says his raverance. 'Is
that a venerable way,' says he, 'to approach your clargy?' says he.
'Hould your tongue,' says Bill, 'an' I'll do ye no harum,' says he.
'Who are you, ye scoundhrel iv the world?' says his raverance.
'Whisht!' says he? 'I'm Billy Malowney,' says he.
'You lie!' says his raverance for he was frightened beyont all
bearin'--an' he makes but one jump out iv the bed at the wrong side,
where there was only jist a little place in the wall for a press,
an' his raverance could not as much as turn in it for the wealth iv
kingdoms. 'You lie,' says he; 'but for feared it's the truth you're
tellin',' says he, 'here's at ye in the name iv all the blessed saints
together!' says he.
An' wid that, my dear, he blazes away at him wid a Latin prayer iv the
strongest description, an', as he said himself afterwards, that was iv
a nature that id dhrive the divil himself up the chimley like a puff iv
tobacky smoke, wid his tail betune his legs.
'Arra, what are ye sthrivin' to say,' says Bill; says he, 'if ye don't
hould your tongue,' says he, 'wid your parly voo;' says he, 'it's what
I'll put my thumb on your windpipe,' says he, 'an' Billy Malowney never
wint back iv his word yet,' says he.
'Thundher-an-owns,' says his raverance, says he--seein' the Latin took
no infect on him, at all at all an' screechin' that you'd think he'd
rise the thatch up iv the house wid the fair fright--'and thundher and
blazes, boys, will none iv yes come here wid a candle, but lave your
clargy to be choked by a spirit in the dark?' says he.
Well, be this time the sarvint boys and the rest iv them wor up an' half
dressed, an' in they all run, one on top iv another, wid pitchforks and
spades, thinkin' it was only what his raverence slep' a dhrame iv the
like, by means of the punch he was afther takin' just before he rowl'd
himself into the bed. But, begorra, whin they seen it was raly Bill
Malowney himself that was in it, it was only who'd be foremost out
agin, tumblin' backways, one over another, and his raverence roarin' an'
cursin' them like mad for not waitin' for him.
Well, my dear, it was betther than half an hour before Billy Malowney
could explain to them all how it raly was himself, for begorra they were
all iv them persuadin' him that he was a spirit to that degree it's a
wondher he did not give in to it, if it was only to put a stop to the
argiment.
Well, his raverence tould the ould people then, there was no use in
sthrivin' agin the will iv Providence an' the vagaries iv love united;
an' whin they kem to undherstand to a sartinty how Billy had a shillin'
a day for the rest iv his days, begorra they took rather a likin'
to him, and considhered at wanst how he must have riz out of all his
nansinse entirely, or his gracious Majesty id never have condescinded
to show him his countenance that way every day of his life, on a silver
shillin'.
An' so, begorra, they never stopt till it was all settled--an' there was
not sich a weddin' as that in the counthry sinst. It's more than forty
years ago, an' though I was no more nor a gossoon myself, I remimber it
like yestherday. Molly never looked so purty before, an' Billy Malowney
was plisant beyont all hearin,' to that degree that half the girls in it
was fairly tarin' mad--only they would not let on--they had not him
to themselves in place iv her. An' begorra I'd be afeared to tell ye,
because you would not believe me, since that blessid man Father Mathew
put an end to all soorts of sociality, the Lord reward him, how many
gallons iv pottieen whisky was dhrank upon that most solemn and tindher
occasion.
Pat Hanlon, the piper, had a faver out iv it; an' Neddy Shawn Heigue,
mountin' his horse the wrong way, broke his collarbone, by the manes
iv fallin' over his tail while he was feelin' for his head; an' Payther
Brian, the horse-docther, I am tould, was never quite right in the head
ever afther; an' ould Tim Donovan was singin' the 'Colleen Rue' night
and day for a full week; an' begorra the weddin' was only the foundation
iv fun, and the beginning iv divarsion, for there was not a year for ten
years afther, an' more, but brought round a christenin' as regular as
the sasins revarted.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Purcell Papers, by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu