to be stand-in' at the windy there, wantin' to overhear the little
harmless talk we had.”
“Come, Traynor,” said Brady, seizing him in his turn by the neck, “take
your hands off of me, or, bad fate to me, but I'll lave ye a mark.”
Traynor, in his turn, had his hand twisted in Brady's cravat, which he
drew tightly about his neck, until the other got nearly black in the
face.
“Let me go you villain!” exclaimed Brady, “or, by this blessed night
that's in it, it'll be worse for you.”
“Villain, is it?” replied Traynor, making a blow at him, whilst Brady
snatched, at a penknife, which one of the others had placed on the
table, after picking the tobacco out of his pipe--intending either to
stab Traynor, or to cut the knot of the cravat by which he was held. The
others, however, interfered, and presented further mischief.
“Brady,” said Traynor, “you'll rue this night, if ever a man did, you
tracherous in-formin' villian. What an honest spy we have among us!--and
a short coorse to you!”
“O, hould yer tongue, Traynor!” replied Brady: “I believe it's best
known who is both the spy and the informer. The divil a pint of poteen
ever you'll run in this parish, until you clear yourself of bringing
the gauger on the Tracys, bekase they tuck Mick M'Kew, in preference to
yourself, to run it for them.”
Traynor made another attempt to strike him, but was prevented. The rest
now interfered; and, in the course of an hour or so, an adjustment took
place.
Brady took up the tongs, and swore “by that blessed iron,” that he
neither heard, nor intended to hear, anything they said; and this
exculpation was followed by a fresh bottle at his own expense.
“You omadhawn,” said he to Traynor, “I was only puttin' up a dozen o'
bottles into the tatch of the house, when you thought I was listenin';”
and, as a proof of the truth of this, he brought them out, and showed
them some bottles of poteen, neatly covered up under the thatch.
Before their separation they finally planned the abduction of Kavanagh
from the Patron, on the Saturday following, and after drinking another
round went home to their respective dwellings.
In this speculation, however, they experienced a fresh disappointment;
for, ere Saturday arrived, whether in consequence of secret intimation
of their intention from Brady, or some friend, or in compliance with the
offer of a better situation, the fact was, that Mat Kavanagh had removed
to another school, distant about eighteen miles from Findramore. But
they were not to be outdone; a new plan was laid, and in the course
of the next week a dozen of the most enterprising and intrepid of the
“boys,” mounted each upon a good horse, went to Mat's new residence for
the express purpose of securing him.
Perhaps our readers may scarcely believe that a love of learning was so
strong among the inhabitants of Findramore as to occasion their taking
such remarkable steps for establishing a schoolmaster among them; but
the country was densely inhabited, the rising population exceedingly
numerous, and the outcry for a schoolmaster amongst the parents of the
children loud and importunate.
The fact, therefore, was, that a very strong motive stimulated the
inhabitants of Findramore in their efforts to procure a master. The
old and middle-aged heads of families were actuated by a simple wish,
inseparable from Irishmen, to have their children educated; and the
young men, by a determination to have a properly qualified person to
conduct their Night Schools, and improve them in their reading, writing,
and arithmetic. The circumstance I am now relating is one which actually
took place: and any man acquainted with the remote parts of Ireland, may
have often seen bloody and obstinate quarrels among the peasantry, in
vindicating a priority of claim to the local residence of a schoolmaster
among them. I could, within my own experience, relate two or three
instances of this nature.
It was one Saturday night, in the latter end of the month of May, that
a dozen Findramore “boys,” as they were called, set out upon this most
singular of all literary speculations, resolved, at whatever risk, to
secure the person and effect the permanent bodily presence among them of
the Redoubtable Mat Kavanagh. Each man was mounted on a horse, and one
of them brought a spare steed for the accommodation of the schoolmaster.
The caparison of this horse was somewhat remarkable: wooden straddle,
such as used by the peasantry for carrying wicker paniers creels,
which are hung upon two wooden pins, that stand up out of its sides.
Underneath was a straw mat, to prevent the horse's back from being
stripped by it. On one side of this hung a large creel, and on the other
a strong sack, tied round a stone merely of sufficient weight to balance
the empty creel. The night was warm and clear, the moon and stars all
threw their mellow light from a serene, unclouded sky, and the repose of
nature in the short nights of this delightful season, resembles that of
a young virgin of sixteen--still, light, and glowing. Their way, for the
most part of their journey, lay through a solitary mountain-road; and,
as they did not undertake the enterprise without a good stock of poteen,
their light-hearted songs and choruses awoke the echoes that slept in
the mountain glens as they went along. The adventure, it is true, had
as much of frolic as of seriousness in it; and merely as the means of a
day's fun for the boys, it was the more eagerly entered into.
It was about midnight when they left home, and as they did not wish to
arrive at the village to which they were bound, until the morning should
be rather advanced, the journey was as slowly performed as possible.
Every remarkable object on the way was noticed, and its history, if
any particular association was connected with it, minutely detailed,
whenever it happened to be known. When the sun rose, many beautiful
green spots and hawthorn valleys excited, even from these unpolished and
illiterate peasants, warm bursts of admiration at their fragrance and
beauty. In some places, the dark flowery heath clothed the mountains
to the tops, from which the gray mists, lit by a flood of light, and
breaking into masses before the morning breeze, began to descend into
the valleys beneath them; whilst the voice of the grouse, the bleating
of sheep and lambs, the pee-weet of the wheeling lap-wing, and the
song of the lark threw life and animation the previous stillness of the
country, sometimes a shallow river would cross the road winding off into
a valley that was overhung, on one side, by rugged precipices clothed
with luxurious heath and wild ash; whilst on the other it was skirted
by a long sweep of greensward, skimmed by the twittering swallow, over
which lay scattered numbers of sheep, cows, brood mares, and colts--many
of them rising and stretching themselves ere they resumed their pasture,
leaving the spots on which they lay of a deeper green. Occasionally,
too, a sly-looking fox might be seen lurking about a solitary lamb, or
brushing over the hills with a fat goose upon his back, retreating
to his den among the inaccessible rocks, after having plundered some
unsuspecting farmer.
As they advanced into the skirts of the cultivated country, they met
many other beautiful spots of scenery among the upland, considerable
portions of which, particularly in long sloping valleys, that faced the
morning sun, were covered with hazel and brushwood, where the unceasing
and simple notes of the cuckoo were incessantly plied, mingled with the
more mellow and varied notes of the thrush and blackbird. Sometimes the
bright summer waterfall seemed, in the rays of the sun, like a column
of light, and the springs that issued from the sides of the more distant
and lofty mountains shone with a steady, dazzling brightness, on which
the eye could scarcely rest. The morning, indeed, was beautiful, the
fields in bloom, and every thing cheerful. As the sun rose in the
heavens, nature began gradually to awaken into life and happiness; nor
was the natural grandeur of a Sabbath summer morning among these piles
of magnificent mountains--nor its heartfelt, but more artificial beauty
in the cultivated country, lost, even upon the unphilosophical “boys”
of Findramore; so true is it, that such exquisite appearances of nature
will force enjoyment upon the most uncultivated heart.
When they had arrived within two miles of the little town in which Mat
Kavanagh was fixed, they turned off into a deep glen, a little to the
left; and, after having seated themselves under a white-thorn which
grew on the banks of a rivulet, they began to devise the best immediate
measures to be taken.
“Boys,” said Tim Dolan, “how will we manage now with this thief of a
schoolmaster, at all? Come, Jack Traynor, you that's up to still-house
work--escapin' and carryin' away stills from gaugers, the bloody
villains! out wid yer spake, till we hear your opinion.”
“Do ye think, boys,” said Andy Connell, “that we could flatter him to
come by fair mains?”
“Flatther him!” said Traynor; “and, by my sowl, if we flatther him at
all, it must be by the hair of the head. No, no; let us bring him first,
whether he will or not, an' ax his consent aftherwards!”
“I'll tell you what it is, boys,” continued Connell, “I'll hould a
wager, if you lave him to me, I'll bring him wid his own consint.”
“No, nor sorra that you'll do, nor could do,” replied Traynor: “for,
along wid every thing else, he thinks he's not jist doated on by the
Findramore people, being one of the Ballyscanlan tribe. No, no; let two
of us go to his place, and purtind that we have other business in the
fair of Clansallagh on Monday next, and ax him in to dhrink, for he'll
not refuse that, any how; then, when he's half tipsy, ax him to convoy
us this far; we'll then meet you here, an' tell him some palaver or
other--sit down where we are now, and, afther making him dead dhrunk,
hoist a big stone in the creel, and Mat in the sack, on the other side,
wid his head out, and off wid him; and he will know neither act nor part
about it till we're at Findramore.”
Having approved of this project, they pulled out each a substantial
complement of stout oaten bread, which served, along with the whiskey,
for breakfast. The two persons pitched on for decoying Mat were Dolan
and Traynor, who accordingly set out, full of glee at the singularity
and drollness of their undertaking. It is unnecessary to detail the
ingenuity with which they went about it, because, in consequence of
Kavanagh's love of drink, very little ingenuity was necessary.
One circumstance, however, came to light, which gave them much
encouragement, and that was a discovery that Mat by no means relished
his situation.
In the meantime, those who stayed behind in the glen felt their patience
begin to flag a little, because of the delay made by the others, who had
promised, if possible, to have the schoolmaster in the glen before
two o'clock. But the fact was, that Mat, who was far less deficient in
hospitality than in learning, brought them into his house, and not only
treated them to plenty of whiskey, but made the wife prepare a dinner,
for which he detained them, swearing, that except they stopped to
partake of it, he would not convoy them to the place appointed. Evening
was, therefore, tolerably far advanced, when they made their appearance
at the glen, in a very equivocal state of sobriety--Mat being by far the
steadiest of the three, but still considerably the worse for what he
had taken. He was now welcomed by a general huzza; and on his expressing
surprise at their appearance, they pointed to their horses, telling him
that they were bound for the fair of Clansallagh, for the purpose of
selling them. This was the more probable, as, when a fair occurs in
Ireland, it is usual for cattle-dealers, particularly horse-jockeys, to
effect sales, and “show” their horses on the evening before.
Mat now sat down, and was vigorously plied with strong poteen--songs
were sung, stories told, and every device resorted to that was
calculated to draw out and heighten his sense of enjoyment; nor were
their efforts without success; for, in the course of a short time, Mat
was free from all earthly care, being incapable of either speaking or
standing.
“Now, boys,” said Dolan, “let us do the thing clane an' dacent. Let you,
Jem Coogan, Brian Murphy, Paddy Delany, and Andy O'Donnell, go back, and
tell the wife and two childher a cock-and-a-bull story about Mat--say
that he is coming to Findramore for good and all, and that'll be thruth,
you know; and that he ordhered yez to bring her and them afther him; and
we can come back for the furniture to-morrow.”
A word was enough--they immediately set off; and the others, not wishing
that Mat's wife should witness the mode of his conveyance, proceeded
home, for it was now dusk. The plan succeeded admirably; and in a short
time the wife and children, mounted behind the “boys” on the horses,
were on the way after them to Findramore.
The reader is already aware of the plan they had adopted for translating
Mat; but, as it was extremely original, I will explain it somewhat more
fully. The moment the schoolmaster was intoxicated to the necessary
point--that is to say, totally helpless and insensible--they opened the
sack and put him in, heels foremost, tying it in such a way about his
neck as might prevent his head from getting into it: thus avoiding the
danger of suffocation. The sack, with Mat at full length in it, was then
fixed to the pin of the straddle, so that he was in an erect posture
during the whole journey. A creel was then hung at the other side, in
which was placed a large stone, of sufficient weight to preserve an
equilibrium; and, to prevent any accident, a droll fellow sat astride
behind the straddle, amusing himself and the rest by breaking jokes upon
the novelty of Mat's situation.
“Well, Mat, _ma bouchal_, how duv ye like your sitivation? I believe,
for all your larnin', the Findramore boys have sacked you at last!”
[Illustration: PAGE 831-- The Findramore boys have sacked you at last]
“Ay!” exclaimed another, “he is sacked at last, in spite of his
Matthew-maticks.”
“An', be my sowks,” observed Traynor, “he'd be a long time goin' up a
Maypowl in the state he's in--his own snail would bate him.” *
* This alludes to a question in Gough's Arithmetic,
which is considered difficult by hedge schoolmasters.
“Yes,” said another; “but he desarves credit for travelin' from
Clansallagh to Findramore, widout layin' a foot to the ground--
“'Wan day wid Captain Whiskey I wrastled a fall,
But faith I was no match for the captain at all--
But faith I was no match for the captain at all,
Though the landlady's measures they were damnable small.
Tooral, looral, looral lorral lido.'
Whoo--hurroo! my darlings--success to the Findramore boys!
Hurroo--hurroo--the Findramore boys for ever!”
“Boys, did ever ye hear the song Mat made on Ned Mullen's fight wid
Jemmy Connor's gander? Well here is part of it, to the tune of 'Brian
O'Lynn'--
'As Ned and the gander wor basting each other,
I hard a loud cry from the gray goose, his mother;
I ran to assist him, wid very great speed.
But before I arrived the poor gander did bleed.
'Alas!' says the gander, 'I'm very ill-trated,
For traicherous Mullen has me fairly defated;
Bud had you been here for to show me fair play,
I could leather his _puckan_ around the lee bray.'
“Bravo! Matt,” addressing the insensible schoolmaster--“success, poet.
Hurroo for the Findramore boys! the Bridge boys for ever!”
They then commenced, in a tone of mock gravity, to lecture him upon
his future duties--detailing the advantages of his situation, and the
comforts he would enjoy among them--although they might as well have
addressed themselves to the stone on the other side. In this manner they
got along, amusing themselves at Mat's expense, and highly elated at the
success of their undertaking. About three o'clock in the morning they
reached the top of the little hill above the village, when, on looking
back along the level stretch of road which I have already described,
they noticed their companions, with Mat's wife and children, moving
briskly after them. A general huzza now took place, which, in a few
minutes, was answered by two or three dozen of the young folks, who
were assembled in Barny Brady's waiting for their arrival. The scene now
became quite animated--cheer after cheer succeeded--jokes, laughter, and
rustic wit, pointed by the spirit of Brady's poteen, flew briskly
about. When Mat was unsacked, several of them came up, and shaking him
cordially by the hand, welcomed him among them. To the kindness of
this reception, however, Mat was wholly insensible, having been for the
greater part of the journey in a profound sleep. The boys now slipped
the loop of the sack off the straddle-pin; and, carrying Mat into a
farmer's house, they deposited him in a settle-bed, where he slept
unconscious of the journey he had performed, until breakfast-time on the
next morning. In the mean time, the wife and children were taken care of
by Mrs. Connell, who provided them with a bed, and every other comfort
which they could require.
The next morning, when Mat awoke, his first call was for a drink. I
should have here observed, that Mrs. Kavanagh had been sent for by the
good woman in whose house Mat had slept, that they might all breakfast
and have a drop together, for they had already succeeded in reconciling
her to the change. “Wather!” said Mat--“a drink of wather, if it's to
be had for love or money, or I'll split wid druth--I'm all in a state
of conflagration; and my head--by the sowl of Newton, the inventor of
fluxions, but my head is a complete illucidation of the centrifugal
motion, so it is. Tundher-an'-turf! is there no wather to be had? Nancy,
I say, for God's sake, quicken yourself with the hydraulics, or the best
mathematician in Ireland's gone to the abode of Euclid and Pythagoras,
that first invented the multiplication table.”
On cooling his burning blood with the “hydraulics,” he again lay down
with the intention of composing himself for another sleep; but his eye
having noticed the novelty of his situation, he once more called Nancy.
“Nancy avourneen,” he inquired, “will you be afther resolving me one
single proposition.--Where am I at the present spaking? Is it in the
Siminary at home, Nancy?” Nancy, in the mean time, had been desired to
answer in the affirmative, hoping that if his mind was made easy on that
point, he might refresh himself by another hour or two's sleep, as
he appeared to be not at all free from the effects of his previous
intoxication.
“Why, Mat, jewel, where else could you be, alannah, but at home? Sure
isn't here Jack, an' Biddy, an' myself, Mat, agra, along wid me. Your
head isn't well, but all you want is a good rousin' sleep.”
“Very well, Nancy; very well, that's enough--quite satisfactory--quod
erat demonstrandum. May all kinds of bad luck rest upon the Findramore
boys, any way! The unlucky vagabonds--I'm the third they've done up.
Nancy, off wid ye, like quicksilver for the priest.”
“The priest! Why, Mat, jewel, what puts that into your head? Sure,
there's nothing wrong wid ye, only the sup o' drink you tuck yesterday.”
“Go, woman,” said Mat; “did you ever know me to make a wrong
calculation--I tell you I'm non compos mentis from head to heel. Head!
by my sowl, Nancy, it'll soon be a capui mortuum wid me--I'm far gone
in a disease they call an opthical delusion--the devil a thing less it
is--me bein' in my own place, an' to think I'm lyin' in a settle bed;
that there is a large dresser, covered wid pewter dishes and plates; and
to crown all, the door on the wrong side of the house! Off wid ye, and
tell his Reverence that I want to be anointed, and to die in pace and
charity wid all men. May the most especial kind of bad luck light down
upon you, Findramore, and all that's in you, both man and baste--you
have given me my gruel along wid the rest; but, thank God, you won't
hang me, any how! Off, Nancy, for the priest, till I die like a
Christhan, in pace and forgiveness wid the world;--all kinds of hard
fortune to them! Make haste, woman, if you expect me to die like a
Christhan. If they had let me alone till I'd publish to the world my
Treatise upon Conic Sections--but to be cut off on my march to fame!
another draught of the hydraulics, Nancy, an' then for the priest--But
see, bring Father Connell, the curate, for he understands something
about Matthew-maticks; an' never heed Father Roger, for divil a thing
he knows about them, not even the difference between a right line and a
curve--in the page of histhory, to his everlasting disgrace, be the same
recorded!”
“Mat,” replied Nancy, scarcely preserving her gravity, “keep yourself
from talkin', an' fall asleep, then you'll be well enough.”
“Is there e'er a sup at all in the house?” said Mat; “if there is,
let me get it; for there's an ould proverb, though it's a most
unmathematical axiom as ever was invinted--'try a hair of the same dog
that bit you;' give me a glass, Nancy, an' you can go for Father Connell
after. Oh, by the sowl of Isaac, that invented fluxions, what's this
for?”
A general burst-of laughter followed this demand and ejaculation; and
Mat sat up once more in the settle, and examined the place with keener
scrutiny. Nancy herself laughed heartily; and, as she handed him the
full glass, entered into an explanation of the circumstances attending
his translation. Mat, at all times rather of pliant disposition, felt
rejoiced on finding that he was still compos mentis; and on hearing what
took place, he could not help entering into the humor of the enterprise,
at which he laughed as heartily as any of them.
“Mat,” said, the farmer, and half a dozen of the neighbors, “you're a
happy man, there's a hundred of the boys have a school-house half built
for you this same blessed sunshiny mornin', while your lying at aise in
your bed.”
“By the sowl of Newton, that invented fluxions!” replied Mat, “but I'll
take revenge for the disgrace you put upon my profession, by stringing
up a schoolmaster among you, and I'll hang you all! It's death to steal
a four-footed animal; but what do you desarve for stealin' a Christian
baste, a two-legged schoolmaster without feathers, eighteen miles, and
he not to know it?”
In the course of a short time Mat was dressed, and having found benefit
from the “hair of the dog that bit him,” he tried another glass, which
strung his nerves, or, as he himself expressed it--“they've got the rale
mathematical tinsion again.” What the farmer said, however, about the
school-house had been true. Early that morning all the growing and grown
young men of Findramore and its “vircinity” had assembled, selected
a suitable spot, and, with merry hearts, were then busily engaged in
erecting a school-house for their general accomodation.
The manner of building hedge school-houses being rather curious, I will
describe it. The usual spot selected for their erection is a ditch in
the road-side; in some situation where there will be as little damp as
possible. From such a spot an excavation is made equal to the size of
the building, so that, when this is scooped out, the back side-wall, and
the two gables are already formed, the banks being dug perpendicularly.
The front side-wall, with a window in each side of the door, is then
built of clay or green sods laid along in rows; the gables are also
topped with sods, and, perhaps, a row or two laid upon the back
side-wall, if it should be considered too low. Having got the erection
of Mat's house thus far, they procured a scraw-spade, and repaired with
a couple of dozen of cars to the next bog, from which they cut the light
heathy surface in strips the length of the roof. A scraw-spade is an
instrument resembling the letter T, with an iron plate at the lower
end, considerably bent, and well adapted to the purpose for which it is
intended. Whilst one party cut the scraws, another bound the _couples
and bauks_* and a third cut as many green branches as were sufficient to
wattle it. The couples, being bound, were raised--the ribs laid on--then
the wattles, and afterwards the scraws.