was one Paddy Finn, and had been so prosperous in the capacity of a cow
doctor, that his son Denis, seeing the dignity of a professor in the
healing art must increase in proportion to the nobleness of the animal
he operates upon, determined to make the human, instead of the brute
creation, the object of his care. To this end he was assisted by his
father, who had scraped some money together in his humble calling, and
having a spice of ambition in him, as well as his aspiring son, he set
him up in the neighboring village as an apothecary. Here Denny enjoyed
the reputation of being an "iligant bone-setter," and cracked skulls,
the result of _fair_ fighting, and whiskey fevers were treated by him
on the most approved principles. But Denny's father was gathered unto
_his_ fathers, and the son came into the enjoyment of all the old man's
money: this, considering his condition, was considerable, and the
possession of a few hundred pounds so inflated the apothecary, that he
determined on becoming a "Doctor" at once. For this purpose he gave up
his apothecary's shop, and set off--where do you think?--to Spain. Here
he remained for some time, and returned to Ireland, declaring himself a
full physician of one of the Spanish universities; his name of Denny
Finn transformed into Doctor Dionysius Mac Finn, or, as his neighbors
chose to call it, Mac Fun, and fun enough the doctor certainly gave
birth to. The little money he once had was spent in his pursuit of
professional honors, and he returned to his native place with a full
title and an empty purse, and his practice did not tend to fill it. At
the same time there was a struggle to keep up appearances. He kept a
horse, or what he intended to be considered as such, but 'twas only a
pony, and if he had but occasion to go to the end of the village on a
visit, the pony was ordered on service. He was glad to accept an
invitation to dinner wherever he had the luck to get one, and the offer
of a bed, even, was sure to be accepted, because that insured breakfast
the next morning. Thus poor Doctor Dionysius made out the cause; often
asked to dinner from mingled motives of kindness and fun, for while a
good dinner was a welcome novelty to the doctor, the absurdities of his
pretension and manner rendered him a subject of unfailing diversion to
his entertainers. Now he had gone the round of all the snug farmers and
country gentlemen in the district, but at last he had the honor to
receive an invitation from _the_ squire himself, and on the appointed
day Doctor Dionysius bestrode his pony, attired in the full dress of a
Spanish physician, which happens to be _red_ from head to foot, and
presented himself at "The Hall."
When a groom appeared to take his "horse" to the stable, the doctor
requested that his steed might be turned loose into the lawn, declaring
it to be more wholesome for the animal than being cooped up in a house;
the saddle and bridle were accordingly removed, and his desire complied
with.
The doctor's appearance in the drawing-room, attired as he was, caused
no small diversion, but attention was speedily called off from him by
the announcement of dinner, that electric sound that stimulates a
company at the same instant, and supersedes every other consideration
whatsoever. Moreover, the squire's dinners were notoriously good, and
the doctor profited largely by the same that day, and lost no
opportunity of filling his glass with the choice wines that surrounded
him. This he did to so much purpose, that the poor little man was very
far gone when the guests were about to separate.
At the doctor's request the bell was rung, and his horse ordered, as
the last remaining few of the company were about to separate, but every
one of them had departed, and still there was no announcement of the
steed being at the door. At length a servant made his appearance, and
said it was impossible to catch the doctor's pony.
"What do you mean by 'catch'?" said the squire. "Is it not in the
stable?"
"No, sir."
Here an explanation ensued, and the squire ordered a fresh attempt to
be made to take the fugitive; but, though many fresh hands were
employed in the attempt, the pony baffled all their efforts; every
manoeuvre usually resorted to on such occasions, was vainly put in
practice. He was screwed up into corners, but no sooner was he there
than, squealing and flinging up his heels, he broke through the
blockade;--again his flank was turned by nimble runners, but the pony
was nimbler still; a sieve full of oats was presented as an inducement,
but the pony was above such vulgar tricks, and defied all attempts at
being captured.
This was the mode by which the doctor generally secured the offer of a
bed, and he might have been successful in this instance, but for a
knowing old coachman who was up to the trick, and out of pure fun chose
to expose it; so, bringing out a huge blunderbuss, he said, "Never
mind,--just let me at him, and I'll engage I'll make him stand."
"O my good man," said the doctor, "pray don't take so much trouble;
just let me go with you." And proceeding to the spot where the pony was
still luxuriating on the rich grass of the squire's lawn, he gave a low
whistle, and the little animal walked up to his owner with as much
tractability as a dog. The saddling and bridling did not take much
time, and the doctor was obliged to renounce his hopes of a bed and
to-morrow's breakfast, and ride home,--or homewards, I should say, for
it was as little his destiny as his wish to sleep at home that night:
for he was so overpowered with his potations, that he could not guide
the pony, and the pony's palate was so tickled by the fresh herbage,
that he wished for more of it, and finding a gate that led to a meadow
open by the roadside, he turned into the field, where he very soon
turned the doctor into a ditch, so that they had bed and board between
them to their heart's content.
The doctor and his horse slept and ate profoundly all night, and even
the "rosy-fingered morn," as the poets have it, found them in the
continuance of their enjoyment. Now it happened that Darby Kelleher was
passing along the path that lay by the side of the ditch where the
doctor was sleeping, and on perceiving him, Darby made as dead a set as
ever pointer did at game.
The doctor, be it remembered, was dressed in red. Moreover, he was a
little man, and his gold-laced hat and ponderous shoe-buckles completed
the resemblance to the being that Darby took him for. Darby was at last
certain that he had discovered a Leprechaun, and amaze so riveted him
to the spot, and anxiety made his pulse beat so fast, that he could not
move nor breathe for some seconds. At last he recovered himself, and
going stealthily to the spot where the doctor slept, every inch of his
approach made him more certain of the reality of his prize; and when he
found himself within reach of it, he made one furious spring, and flung
himself on the unfortunate little man, fastening his tremendous fist on
his throat, at the same time exclaiming in triumph, "Hurra!--by the
hoky, I have you at last!!"
The poor little doctor, thus rudely and suddenly aroused from his tipsy
sleep, looked excessively bewildered when he opened his eyes, and met
the glare of ferocious delight that Darby Kelleher cast upon him, and
he gurgled out, "What's the matter?" as well as the grip of Darby's
hand upon his throat would permit him.
"Goold's the matther," shouted Darby,--"Goold!--Goold!!--Goold!!!"
"What about Goold?" says the doctor.
"Goold!--yallow goold--that's the matther."
"Is it Paddy Goold that's taken ill again?" said the doctor, rubbing
his eyes. "Don't choke me, my good man; I'll go immediately," said he,
endeavoring to rise.
"By my sowl, you won't," said Darby, tightening his hold.
"For mercy's sake let me go!" said the doctor.
"Let you go indeed!--ow!--ow!"
"For the tender mercy--"
"Goold! goold! you little vagabone!"
"Well, I'm going, if you let me."
"Divil a step." And here he nearly choked him.
"Oh! murder!--for God's sake!"
"Whisht!!--you thief,--how _dar_ you say God, you divil's imp!!!"
The poor little man, between the suddenness of his waking and the
roughness of the treatment he was under, was in such a state of
bewilderment, that for the first time he now perceived he was lying
amongst grass and under bushes, and, rolling his eyes about, he
exclaimed,--
"Where am I?--God bless me!"
"Whisht! you little cruked ottomy--by the holy farmer, if you say God
agin, I'll cut your throat."
"What do you hold me so tight for?"
"Just for fear you'd vanish, you see. O, I know you well!"
"Then, my good man, if you know me so well, treat me with proper
respect, if you please."
"Divil send you respect. Respect indeed! that's a good thing. Musha bad
luck to your impidence, you thievin' owld rogue."
"Who taught you to call such names to your betters, fellow? How dare
you use a professional gentleman so rudely?"
"O, do you hear this!!--a profissionil gintleman! Arrah, do you think I
don't know you, you little owld cobbler?"
"Cobbler! Zounds, what do you mean, you ruffian? Let me go, sirrah!"
And he struggled violently to rise.
"Not a taste, 'scure to the step you'll go out o' this till you give me
what I want."
"What do you want, then?"
"Goold--goold!"
"Ho! ho! so you're a robber, sir; you want to rob me, do you?"
"Oh! what robbery it is!!--throth that won't do, as cunnin' as you
think yourself; you won't frighten me that way. Come, give it at
wanst,--you may as well. I'll never let go my grip o' you antil you
hand me out the goold."
"'Pon the honor of a gentleman, gold nor silver is not in my company. I
have fourpence halfpenny in my breeches-pocket, which you are welcome
to if you let go my throat."
"Fourpence hapny!!! Why, then, do you think me sitch a _gom_, all out,
as to put me off wid fourpence hapny; throth, for three sthraws, this
minit I'd thrash you within an inch o' your life for your impidence.
Come, no humbuggin'; out with the goold!"
"I have no gold. Don't choke me: if you murder me, remember there's law
in the land. You'd better let me go."
"Not a fut. Gi' me the goold, I tell you, you little vagabone!!" said
Darby, shaking him violently.
"Don't murder me, for Heaven's sake!"
"I will murdher you if you don't give me a hatful o' goold this minit."
"A hatful of gold! Why, whom do you take me for?"
"Sure I know you're a Leprechaun, you desaiver o' the world!"
"A Leprechaun!" said the doctor, in mingled indignation and amazement.
"My good man, you mistake."
"O, how soft I am! 'Twon't do, I tell you. I have you, and I'll howld
you; long I've been lookin' for you, and I cotch you at last, and by
the tarnal o' war I'll have your life or the goold."
"My good man, be merciful--you mistake--I'm no Leprechaun; I'm Doctor
Mac Finn."
"That won't do either! you think to desaive me, but 'twon't do;--just
as if I didn't know a docthor from a Leprechaun. Gi' me the goold, you
owld chate!"
"I tell you I'm Doctor Dionysius Mac Finn. Take care what you're
about!--there's law in the land; and I think I begin to know you. Your
name is Kelleher?"
"O, you cunnin' owld thief! O, then, but you are the complate owld
rogue; only I'm too able for you. You want to freken me, do you? O, you
little scrap o' deception, but you are deep!"
"Your name is Kelleher--I remember. My good fellow, take care; don't
you know I'm Doctor Mac Finn,--don't you see I am?"
"Why thin but you have the dirty yollow pinched look iv him, sure
enough; but don't I know you've only put it an you to desaive me;
besides, the doctor has dirty owld tatthers o' black clothes an him,
and isn't as red as a sojer, like you."
"That's an accident, my good man."
"Gi' me the goold this minit, and no more prate wid you."
"I tell you, Kelleher--"
"Howld your tongue, and gi' me the goold."
"By all that's--"
"Will you give it?"
"How can I?"
"Very well. You'll see what the ind of it 'ill be," said Darby, rising,
but still keeping his iron grip of the doctor. "Now, for the last time,
I ask you, will you gi' me the goold? or, by the powers o' wildfire,
I'll put you where you'll never see daylight antil you make me a rich
man."
"I have no gold, I tell you."
"Faix, then I'll keep you till you find it," said Darby, who tucked the
little man under his arm, and ran home with him as fast as he could.
He kicked at his cabin door for admittance when he reached home,
exclaiming,--
"Let me in! let me in! Make haste; I have him."
"Who have you?" said Oonah, as she opened the door.
"Look at that!" said Darby in triumph; "I cotch him at last!"
"Weira then, is it a Leprechaun it is?" said Oonah.
"Divil a less," said Darby, throwing down the doctor on the bed, and
still holding him fast. "Open the big chest, Oonah, and we'll lock him
up in it, and keep him antil he gives us the goold."
"Murder! murder!" shouted the doctor. "Lock me up in a chest!!"
"Gi' me the goold, then, and I won't."
"My good man, you know I have not gold to give."
"Don't believe him, Darby jewel," said Oonah; "them Leprechauns is the
biggest liars in the world."
"Sure I know that!" said Darby, "as well as you. Oh! all the throuble
I've had wid him; throth only I'm aiqual to a counsellor for knowledge,
he'd have namplushed me long ago."
"Long life to you, Darby dear!"
"Mrs. Kelleher," said the doctor.
"O Lord!" said Oonah, in surprise, "did you ever hear the like o'
that?--how he knows my name!"
"To be sure he does," said Darby, "and why nat? sure he's a fairy, you
know."
"I'm no fairy, Mrs. Kelleher. I'm a doctor,--Doctor Mac Finn."
"Don't b'lieve him, darlin'," said Darby. "Make haste and open the
chest."
"Darby Kelleher," said the doctor, "let me go, and I'll cure you
whenever you want my assistance."
"Well, I want your assistance now," said Darby, "for I'm very bad this
minit wid poverty; and if you cure me o' that, I'll let you go."
"What will become of me?" said the doctor in despair, as Darby carried
him towards the big chest which Oonah had opened.
"I'll tell you what'll become o' you," said Darby, seizing a hatchet
that lay within his reach; "by the seven blessed candles, if you don't
consint before night to fill that big chest full o' goold, I'll chop
you as small as aribs (herbs) for the pot." And Darby crammed him into
the box.
"O Mrs. Kelleher, be merciful to me," said the doctor, "and whenever
you're sick I'll attend you."
"God forbid!" said Oonah; "it's not the likes o' you I want when I'm
sick;--attind me, indeed! bad luck to you, you little imp, maybe you'd
run away with my babby, or it's a _Banshee_ you'd turn yourself into,
and sing for my death. Shut him up, Darby; it's not looky to be
howldin' discoorse wid the likes iv him."
"Oh!" roared the doctor, as his cries were stifled by the lid of the
chest being closed on him. The key was turned, and Oonah sprinkled some
holy water she had in a little bottle that hung in one corner of the
cabin over the lock, to prevent the fairy having any power upon it.
Darby and Oonah now sat down in consultation on their affairs, and
began forming their plans on an extensive scale, as to what they were
to do with their money, for have it they must, now that the Leprechaun
was fairly in their power. Now and then Darby would rise and go over to
the chest, very much as one goes to the door of a room where a naughty
child has been locked up, to know "if it be good yet," and giving a
thump on the lid would exclaim, "Well, you little vagabone, will you
gi' me the goold yet?"
A groan and a faint answer of denial was all the reply he received.
"Very well, stay there; but, remember, if you don't consint before
night I'll chop you to pieces." He then got his bill-hook, and began to
sharpen it close by the chest, that the Leprechaun might hear him; and
when the poor doctor heard this process going forward, he felt more
dead than alive; the horrid scraping of the iron against the stone
being interspersed with occasional interjectional passages from Darby,
such as, "Do you hear that, you thief? I'm gettin' ready for you." Then
away he'd rasp at the grindstone again, and, as he paused to feel the
edge of the weapon, exclaim, "By the powers, I'll have it as sharp as a
razhir."
In the mean time it was well for the prisoner that there were many
large chinks in the chest, or suffocation from his confinement would
have anticipated Darby's pious intentions upon him; and when he found
matters likely to go so hard with him, the thought struck him at last
of affecting to be what Darby mistook him for, and regaining his
freedom by stratagem.
To this end, when Darby had done sharpening his bill-hook, the doctor
replied, in answer to one of Darby's summonses for gold, that he saw it
was in vain longer to deny giving it, that Darby was too cunning for
him, and that he was ready to make him the richest man in the country.
"I'll take no less than the full o' that chest," said Darby.
"You'll have ten times the full of it, Darby," said the doctor, "if
you'll only do what I bid you."
"Sure I'll do anything."
"Well, you must first prepare the mystificand-herum-brandherum."
"Tare an ouns, how do I know what that is?"
"Silence, Darby Kelleher, and attend to me: that's a magical ointment,
which I will show you how to make; and whenever you want gold, all you
have to do is to rub a little of it on the point of a pickaxe or your
spade, and dig wherever you please, and you will be sure to find
treasure."
"O, think o' that! faix, an' I'll make plenty of it, when you show me.
How is it made?"
"You must go into the town, Darby, and get me three things, and fold
them three times in three rags torn out of the left side of a petticoat
that has not known water for a year."
"Faith, I can do that much, anyhow," said Oonah, who began tearing the
prescribed pieces out of her undergarment.
"And what three things am I to get you?"
"First bring me a grain of salt from a house that stands at
cross-roads."
"Crass roads!" said Darby, looking significantly at Oonah. "By my sowl,
but it's my dhrame's comin' out!"
"Silence, Darby Kelleher," said the doctor with great solemnity; "mark
me, Darby Kelleher." And then he proceeded to repeat a parcel of
gibberish to Darby, which he enjoined him to remember, and repeat
again; but as Darby could not, the doctor said he should only write it
down for him, and, tearing a leaf from his pocket-book, he wrote in
pencil a few words, stating the condition he was in, and requesting
assistance. This slip of paper he desired Darby to deliver to the
apothecary in the town, who would give him a drug that would complete
the making of the ointment.
Darby went to the apothecary's as he was desired, and it happened to be
dinner-time when he arrived. The apothecary had a few friends dining
with him, and Darby was detained until they chose to leave the table,
and go, in a body, to liberate the poor little doctor. He was pulled
out of the chest amidst the laughter of his liberators and the fury of
Darby and Oonah, who both made considerable fight against being robbed
of their prize. At last the doctor's friends got him out of the house,
and proceeded to the town to supper, where the whole party kept getting
magnificently drunk, until sleep plunged them into dizzy dreams of
Leprechauns and Fairy-Finders.
The doctor for some days swore vengeance against Darby, and threatened
a prosecution; but his friends recommended him to let the matter rest,
as it would only tend to make the affair more public, and get him
nothing but laughter for damages.
As for Darby Kelleher, nothing could ever persuade him that it was not
a _real_ Leprechaun he had caught, which by some villanous contrivance,
on the Fairy's part, changed itself into the semblance of the doctor;
and he often said the great mistake he made was "givin' the little
vagabone so much time, for that if he had done right he'd have set
about cutting his throat at wanst."
MURAD THE UNLUCKY.
BY MARIA EDGEWORTH.
I.
It is well known that the grand seignior amuses himself by going at
night, in disguise, through the streets of Constantinople; as the
caliph, Haroun Alraschid, used formerly to do in Bagdad.
One moonlight night, accompanied by his grand vizier, he traversed
several of the principal streets of the city, without seeing anything
remarkable. At length, as they were passing a rope-maker's, the sultan
recollected the Arabian story of Cogia-Hassan Alhabal, the rope-maker,
and his two friends, Saad and Saadi, who differed so much in their
opinion concerning the influence of fortune over human affairs.
"What is your opinion on this subject?" said the grand seignior to his
vizier.
"I am inclined, please your majesty," replied the vizier, "to think
that success in the world depends more upon prudence than upon what is
called luck, or fortune."
"And I," said the sultan, "am persuaded that fortune does more for men
than prudence. Do you not every day hear of persons who are said to be
fortunate or unfortunate? How comes it that this opinion should prevail
amongst men, if it be not justified by experience?"
"It is not for me to dispute with your majesty," replied the prudent
vizier.
"Speak your mind freely; I desire and command it," said the sultan.
"Then I am of opinion," answered the vizier, "that people are often led
to believe others fortunate, or unfortunate, merely because they only
know the general outline of their histories; and are ignorant of the
incidents and events in which they have shown prudence or imprudence. I
have heard, for instance, that there are at present in this city two
men, who are remarkable for their good and bad fortune: one is called
_Murad the Unlucky_, and the other _Saladin the Lucky_. Now I am
inclined to think, if we could hear their stories, we should find that
one is a prudent and the other an imprudent character."
"Where do these men live?" interrupted the sultan. "I will hear their
histories from their own lips, before I sleep."
"Murad the Unlucky lives in the next square," said the vizier.
The sultan desired to go thither immediately. Scarcely had they entered
the square, when they heard the cry of loud lamentations. They followed
the sound till they came to a house of which the door was open, and
where there was a man tearing his turban, and weeping bitterly. They
asked the cause of his distress, and he pointed to the fragments of a
china vase, which lay on the pavement at his door.
"This seems undoubtedly to be beautiful china," said the sultan, taking
up one of the broken pieces; "but can the loss of a china vase be the
cause of such violent grief and despair?"
"Ah, gentlemen," said the owner of the vase, suspending his
lamentations, and looking at the dress of the pretended merchants, "I
see that you are strangers: you do not know how much cause I have for
grief and despair! You do not know that you are speaking to Murad the
Unlucky! Were you to hear all the unfortunate accidents that have
happened to me, from the time I was born till this instant, you would
perhaps pity me, and acknowledge I have just cause for despair."
Curiosity was strongly expressed by the sultan; and the hope of
obtaining sympathy inclined Murad to gratify it, by the recital of his
adventures. "Gentlemen," said he, "I scarcely dare invite you into the
house of such an unlucky being as I am; but, if you will venture to
take a night's lodging under my roof, you shall hear at your leisure
the story of my misfortunes."
The sultan and the vizier excused themselves from spending the night
with Murad; saying that they were obliged to proceed to their khan,
where they should be expected by their companions: but they begged
permission to repose themselves for half an hour in his house, and
besought him to relate the history of his life, if it would not renew
his grief too much to recollect his misfortunes.
Few men are so miserable as not to like to talk of their misfortunes,
where they have, or where they think they have, any chance of obtaining
compassion. As soon as the pretended merchants were seated, Murad began
his story in the following manner:--
"My father was a merchant of this city. The night before I was born, he
dreamed that I came into the world with the head of a dog and the tail
of a dragon; and that, in haste to conceal my deformity, he rolled me
up in a piece of linen, which unluckily proved to be the grand
seignior's turban; who, enraged at his insolence in touching his
turban, commanded that his head should be struck off.
"My father awaked before he lost his head, but not before he had lost
half his wits from the terror of his dream. He considered it as a
warning sent from above, and consequently determined to avoid the sight
of me. He would not stay to see whether I should really be born with
the head of a dog and the tail of a dragon; but he set out, the next
morning, on a voyage to Aleppo.
"He was absent for upwards of seven years; and during that time my
education was totally neglected. One day I inquired from my mother why
I had been named Murad the Unlucky. She told me that this name was
given to me in consequence of my father's dream; but she added that
perhaps it might be forgotten, if I proved fortunate in my future life.
My nurse, a very old woman, who was present, shook her head, with a
look which I shall never forget, and whispered to my mother loud enough
for me to hear, 'Unlucky he was, and is, and ever will be. Those that
are born to ill luck cannot help themselves; nor can any, but the great
prophet Mahomet himself, do anything for them. It is a folly for an
unlucky person to strive with his fate: it is better to yield to it at
once.'
"This speech made a terrible impression upon me, young as I then was;
and every accident that happened to me afterwards confirmed my belief
in my nurse's prognostic. I was in my eighth year when my father
returned from abroad. The year after he came home my brother Saladin
was born, who was named Saladin the Lucky, because the day he was born
a vessel freighted with rich merchandise for my father arrived safely
in port.