RELATING HOW PUDDOCK PURGED O'FLAHERTY'S HEAD--A CHAPTER WHICH, IT IS
HOPED, NO GENTEEL PERSON WILL READ.
Rum disagreed with O'Flaherty confoundedly, but, being sanguine, and
also of an obstinate courage not easily to be put down, and liking that
fluid, and being young withal, he drank it defiantly and liberally
whenever it came in his way. So this morning he announced to his friend
Puddock that he was suffering under a headache 'that 'id burst a pot.'
The gallant fellow's stomach, too, was qualmish and disturbed. He heard
of breakfast with loathing. Puddock rather imperiously insisted on his
drinking some tea, which he abhorred, and of which, in very imperfect
clothing and with deep groans and occasional imprecations on 'that
bastely clar't'--to which he chose to ascribe his indisposition--he
drearily partook.
'I tell you what, Thir,' said Puddock, finding his patient nothing
better, and not relishing the notion of presenting his man in that seedy
condition upon the field: 'I've got a remedy, a very thimple one; it
used to do wondereth for my poor Uncle Neagle, who loved rum shrub,
though it gave him the headache _always_, and sometimes the gout.'
And Puddock had up Mrs. Hogg, his landlady, and ordered a pair of little
muslin bags about the size of a pistol-cartridge each, which she
promised to prepare in five minutes, and he himself tumbled over the
leaves of his private manuscript quarto, a desultory and miscellaneous
album, stuffed with sonnets on Celia's eye--a lock of hair, or a pansy
here or there pressed between the pages--birthday verses addressed to
Sacharissa, receipts for 'puptons,' 'farces,' &c.; and several for
toilet luxuries, 'Angelica water,' 'The Queen of Hungary's' ditto,
'surfeit waters,' and finally, that he was in search of, to wit, 'My
great Aunt Bell's recipe for purging the head' (good against melancholy
or the headache). You are not to suppose that the volume was slovenly or
in anywise unworthy of a gentleman and officer of those days. It was
bound in red and gold, had two handsome silver-gilt clasps and red
edges, the writing being exquisitely straight and legible, and without a
single blot.
'I have them all except--two--_three_,' murmured the thoughtful Puddock
when he had read over the list of ingredients. These, however, he got
from Toole, close at hand, and with a little silver grater and a pretty
little agate pocket pestle and mortar--an heirloom derived from poor
Aunt Bell--he made a wonderful powder; 'nutmeg and ginger, cinnamon and
cloves,' as the song says, and every other stinging product of nature
and chemistry which the author of this famous family 'purge for the
head' could bring to remembrance; and certainly it _was_ potent. With
this the cartridges were loaded, the ends tied up, and O'Flaherty,
placed behind a table on which stood a basin, commenced the serious
operation, under Puddock's directions, by introducing a bag at each side
of his mouth, which as a man of honour, he was bound to retain there
until Puddock had had his morning's tête-à-tête with the barber.
Those who please to consult old domestic receipt-books of the last
century, will find the whole process very exactly described therein.
'Be the powers, Sorr, that was the stuff!' said O'Flaherty, discussing
the composition afterwards, with an awful shake of his head; 'my chops
wor blazing before you could count twenty.'
It was martyrdom; but anything was better than the incapacity which
threatened, and certainly, by the end of five minutes, his head was
something better. In this satisfactory condition--Jerome being in the
back garden brushing his regimentals, and preparing his other
properties--he suddenly heard voices close to the door, and gracious
powers! one was certainly Magnolia's.
'That born devil, Juddy Carrol,' blazed forth. O'Flaherty, afterwards,
'pushed open the door; it served me right for not being in my bed-room,
and the door locked--though who'd a thought there was such a cruel
eediot on airth--bad luck to her--as to show a leedy into a gentleman,
with scarcely the half of his clothes on, and undhergoin' a soart iv an
operation, I may say.'
Happily the table behind which he stood was one of those old-fashioned
toilet affairs, with the back part, which was turned toward the door,
sheeted over with wood, so that his ungartered stockings and rascally
old slippers, were invisible. Even so, it was bad enough: he was arrayed
in a shabby old silk roquelaire, and there was a towel upon his breast,
pinned behind his neck. He had just a second to pop the basin under the
table, and to whisk the towel violently from under his chin, drying that
feature with merciless violence; when the officious Judy Carrol, Grand
Chamberlain in Jerome's absence, with the facetious grin of a
good-natured lady about to make two people happy, introduced the
bewitching Magnolia, and her meek little uncle, Major O'Neill.
In they came, rejoicing, to ask the gallant fireworker (it was a
different element just now), to make one of a party of pleasure to
Leixlip. O'Flaherty could not so much as hand the young lady a chair; to
emerge from behind the table, or even to attempt a retreat, was of
course not to be thought of in the existing state of affairs. The action
of Puddock's recipe was such as to make his share in the little
complimentary conversation that ensued very indistinct, and to oblige
him, to his disgrace and despair, when the poor fellow tried a smile,
actually to apply his towel hastily to his mouth.
He saw that his visitors observed those symptoms with some perplexity:
the major was looking steadfastly at O'Flaherty's lips, and
unconsciously making corresponding movements with his own, and the fair
Magnolia was evidently full of pleasant surprise and curiosity. I really
think, if O'Flaherty had had a pistol within reach, he would have been
tempted to deliver himself summarily from that agonising situation.
'I'm afraid, lieutenant, you've got the toothache,' said Miss Mag, with
her usual agreeable simplicity.
In his alacrity to assure her there was no such thing, he actually
swallowed one of the bags. 'Twas no easy matter, and he grew very red,
and stared frightfully, and swallowed a draught of water precipitately.
His misery was indeed so great that at the conclusion of a polite little
farewell speech of the major's, he uttered an involuntary groan, and
lively Miss Mag, with an odious titter, exclaimed--
'The little creature's teething, uncle, as sure as you're not; either
that, or he's got a hot potato in his poor little mouzey-wouzey;' and
poor O'Flaherty smiled a great silent moist smile at the well-bred
pleasantry. The major, who did not choose to hear Mag's banter, made a
formal, but rather smiling salute. The lieutenant returned it, and down
came the unlucky mortar and a china plate, on which Puddock had mingled
the ingredients, with a shocking crash and jingle on the bare boards; a
plate and mortar never made such a noise before, O'Flaherty thought,
with a mental imprecation.
'Nothing--hash--'appened--Shur,' said O'Flaherty, whose articulation was
affected a good deal, in terror lest the major should arrest his
departure.
So the major and tall Miss Magnolia, with all her roses and lilies, and
bold broad talk, and her wicked eyes, went down the stairs; and
O'Flaherty, looking with lively emotion in the glass, at the unbecoming
coup-d'oeil, heard that agreeable young lady laughing most riotously
under the windows as she and the major marched away.
It was well for Judy, that, being of the gentler sex, the wrath of the
fireworker could not wreak itself upon her. The oftener he viewed
himself in the pier-glass, trying in vain to think he did not look so
very badly after all, the more bitter were his feelings. Oh, that
villainous old silk morning gown! and his eyes so confoundedly red, and
his hair all dishevelled--bad luck to that clar't! the wig was all
right, that was his only comfort;, and his mouth, 'och, look at it;
twiste its natural size,' though that was no trifle.
'Another week I'll not stop in her lodgings,' cried poor O'Flaherty,
grinning at himself in the glass, 'if she keeps that savage, Judy
Carrol, here a day longer.'
Then he stumbled to the stair-head to call her up for judgment; but
changed his mind, and returned to the looking-glass, blowing the cooling
air in short whistles through his peppered lips--and I'm sorry to say,
blowing out also many an ejaculation and invective, as that sorry sight
met his gaze in the oval mirror, which would have been much better not
uttered.