CHAPTER XXIII. MAJOR MAHON AND HIS QUARTERS
The Major's quarters were fixed in one of the best houses in the town, in the comfortable back-parlour of which was now displayed a little table laid for three persons. A devilled lobster, the grouse-pie already mentioned, some fried ham, and crisped potatoes were the viands; but each was admirable in its kind, and with the assistance of an excellent bowl of hot punch and the friendly welcome of the host, left nothing to be desired.
Major Bob Mahon was a short, thickset little man, with round blue eyes, a turned-up nose, and a full under lip, which he had a habit of protruding with an air of no mean pretension; a short crop of curly black hair covered a head as round as a billiard-ball. These traits, with a certain peculiar smack of his mouth, by which he occasionally testified the approval of his own eloquence, were the most remarkable things about him. His great ambition was to be thought a military man; but somehow his pretensions in this respect smacked much more of the militia than the line. Indeed, he possessed a kind of adroit way of asserting the superiority of the former to the latter, averring that they who fought pro arts et focis—the Major was fond of Latin—stood on far higher ground than the travelled mercenaries who only warred for pay. This peculiarity, and an absurd attachment to practical jokes, the result of which had frequently through life involved him in lawsuits, damages, compensations, and even duels, formed the great staple of his character—of all which the good priest informed me most fully on our way to the house.
'Captain Hinton, I believe,' said the Major, as he held out his hand in welcome.
'Mr. Hinton,' said I, bowing.
'Ay, yes; Father Tom, there, doesn't know much about these matters. What regiment, pray?'
'The Grenadier Guards.'
'Oh, a very good corps—mighty respectable corps; not that, between ourselves, I think overmuch of the regulars; between you and me, I never knew foreign travel do good to man or beast. What do they bring back with them, I'd like to know?—French cookery and Italian licentiousness. No, no; give me the native troops! You were a boy at the time, but maybe you have heard how they behaved in the west, when Hoche landed. Egad! if it wasn't for the militia the country was sacked. I commanded a company of the Roscommon at the time. I remember well we laid siege to a windmill, held by a desperate fellow, the miller—a resolute character, Mr. Hinton; he had two guns in the place with him.'
'I wish to the Lord he had shot you with one of them, and we 'd have been spared this long story!' said the priest.
'I opened a parallel——'
'Maybe you 'd open the pie?' said the priest, as he drew his chair, and sat down to the table. 'Perhaps you forget, Bob, we have had a sharp ride of it this evening?'
'Upon my conscience, so I did,' replied the Major good-humouredly. 'So let us have a bit of supper now, Mr. Hinton, and I'll finish my story by-and-by.'
'The Heavens forbid!' piously ejaculated the priest, as he helped himself to a very considerable portion of the lobster.
'Is this a fast, Father Loftus?' said I slyly.
'No, my son, but we'll make it one. That reminds me of what happened to me going up in the boat. It was a Friday, and the dinner, as you may suppose, was not over-good; but there was a beautiful cut of fried salmon just before me—about a pound and a half, maybe two pounds; this I slipped quietly on my plate, observing to the company, in this way, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a fast day with me”—when a big fellow, with red whiskers, stooped across the table, cut my bit of fish in two halves, calling out as he carried off one, “Bad scran to ye! d'ye think nobody has a soul to be saved but yourself?”'
'Ah, they're a pious people, are the Irish!' said the Major solemnly, 'and you'll remark that when you see more of them. And now, Captain, how do you like us here?'
'Exceedingly,' said I, with warmth. 'I have had every reason to be greatly pleased with Ireland.'
'That's right! and I'm glad of it! though, to be sure, you have not seen us in our holiday garb. Ah, if you were here before the Union; if you saw Dublin as I remember it—and Tom there remembers it—“that was a pleasant place.” It was not trusting to balls and parties, to dinners and routs, but to all kinds of fun and devilment besides. All the members of Parliament used to be skylarking about the city, playing tricks on one another, and humbugging the Castle people. And, to be sure, the Castle was not the grave, stupid place it is now—they were convivial, jovial fellows——'
'Come, come, Major,' interrupted I; 'you are really unjust—the present court is not the heavy——'
'Sure, I know what it is well enough. Hasn't the duke all the privy council and the bishops as often to dinner as the garrison and the bar? Isn't he obliged to go to his own apartment when they want to make a night of it, and sing a good chorus? Don't tell me! Sure, even as late as Lord Westmorland's time it was another thing—pleasant and happy times they were, and the country will never be the same till we have them back again!'
Being somewhat curious to ascertain in what particular our degeneracy consisted—for in my ignorance of better, I had hitherto supposed the present regime about as gay a thing as need be—I gradually led the Major on to talk of those happier days when Ireland kept all its fun for home consumption, and never exported even its surplus produce.
'It was better in every respect,' responded the Major. 'Hadn't we all the patronage amongst us? There's Jonah, there—Harrington, I mean; well, he and I could make anything, from a tide-waiter to a master in Chancery. It's little trouble small debts gave us then; a pipe of sherry never cost me more than a storekeeper in the ordnance, and I kept my horses at livery for three years with a washwoman to Kilmainham Hospital And as for fun—look at the Castle now! Don't I remember the times when we used to rob the coaches coming from the drawing-rooms; and pretty girls they were inside of them.'
'For shame, for shame!' cried Father Tom, with a sly look in the corner of his eye that by no means bespoke a suitable degree of horror at such unwarrantable proceedings.
'Well, if it was a shame it was no sin,' responded the Major; 'for we never took anything more costly than kisses. Ah, dear me! them was the times! And, to be sure, every now and then we got a pull-up from the Lady lieutenant, and were obliged to behave ourselves for a week or two together. One thing she never could endure was a habit we had of leaving the Castle before they themselves left the ball-room. I'm not going to defend it—it was not very polite, I confess; but somehow or other there was always something going on we couldn't afford to lose—maybe a supper at the barrack, or a snug party at Daly's, or a bit of fun elsewhere. Her Excellency, however, got angry about it, and we got a quiet hint to reform our manners. This, I need not tell you, was a hopeless course; so we hit on an expedient that answered to the full as well. It was by our names being called out, as the carriages drove up, that our delinquency became known. So Matt Fortescue suggested that we should adopt some feigned nomenclature, which would totally defy every attempt at discovery; the idea was excellent, and we traded on it for many a day with complete success. One night, however, from some cause or other, the carriages were late in arriving, and we were all obliged to accompany the court into the supper-room. Angry enough we were; but still there was no help for it; and so, “smiling through tears,” as the poet says, in we went. Scarcely, however, had we taken our places when a servant called out something from the head of the stairs; another re-echoed it at the ante-chamber, and a third at the supper-room shouted out, “Oliver Cromwell's carriage stops the way!” The roar of laughter the announcement caused shook the very room; but it had scarcely subsided when there was another call for “Brian Boru's coach,” quickly followed by “Guy Fawkes” and “Paddy O'Rafferty's jingle,” which latter personage was no other than the Dean of Cork. I need not tell you that we kept our secret, and joined in the universal opinion of the whole room, “that the household was shamefully disguised in drink”; and indeed there was no end to the mistakes that night, for every now and then some character in heathen or modern history would turn up among the announcements; and as the laughter burst forth, the servants would grow ashamed for a while, and refuse to call any carriage where the style and title was a little out of the common. Ah, Mr. Hinton, if you had lived in those days! Well, well, no matter—here's a glass to their memory, anyway. It is the first time you 've been in these parts, and I suppose you haven't seen much of the country?'
'Very little indeed,' replied I; 'and even that much only by moonlight.'
'I'm afraid,' said Father Tom, half pensively, 'that many of your countrymen take little else than a “dark view” of us.'
'See now,' said the Major, slapping his hand on the table with energy, 'the English know as much about Pat as Pat knows of purgatory—no offence to you, Mr. Hinton. I could tell you a story of a circumstance that once happened to myself.'
No, no, Bob,' said the priest; 'it is bad taste to tell a story en petit comité. I'll leave it to the Captain.'
'If I am to be the judge,' said I laughingly, 'I decide for the story.'
'Let's have it, then,' said the priest. 'Come, Bob, a fresh brew, and begin your tale.'
'You are a sensual creature, Father Tom,' said the Major, 'and prefer drink to intellectual discussion; not but that you may have both here at the same time. But in honour of my friend beside me, I'll not bear malice, but give you the story; and let me tell you, it is not every day in the week a man hears a tale with a moral to it, particularly down in this part of the country.'
CHAPTER XXIV. THE DEVIL'S GRIP
'The way of it was this. There was a little estate of mine in the county of Waterford that I used now and then to visit in the shooting season. In fact, except for that, there was very little inducement to go there; it was a bleak, ugly part of the country, a bad market-town near it, and not a neighbour within twelve miles. Well, I went over there—it was, as well as I remember, December two years. Never was there such weather; it rained from morning till night, and blew and rained from night till morning; the slates were flying about on every side, and we used to keep fellows up all night, that in case the chimneys were blown away we 'd know where to find them in the morning. This was the pleasant weather I selected for my visit to the “Devil's Grip”—that was the name of the town-land where the house stood; and no bad name either, for, 'faith, if he hadn't his paw on it, it might have gone in law,-like the rest of the property. However, down I went there, and only remembered on the evening of my arrival that I had ordered my gamekeeper to poison the mountain, to get rid of the poachers; so that, instead of shooting, which, as I said before, was all you could do in the place, there I was, with three brace of dogs, two guns, and powder enough to blow up a church, walking a big dining-parlour, all alone by myself, as melancholy as may be.
'You may judge how happy I was, looking out upon the bleak country-side, with nothing to amuse me except when now and then the roof of some cabin or other would turn upside down, like an umbrella, or watching an old windmill that had gone clean mad, and went round at such a pace that nobody dare go near it. All this was poor comfort. However, I got out of temper with the place; and so I sat down and wrote a long advertisement for the English papers, describing the Devil's Grip as a little terrestrial paradise, in the midst of picturesque scenery, a delightful neighbourhood, and an Arcadian peasantry, the whole to be parted with—-a dead bargain—as the owner was about to leave the country. I didn't add that he had some thought of blowing his brains out with sheer disgust of his family residence. I wound up the whole with a paragraph to the effect that if not disposed of within the month, the proprietor would break it up into small farms. I said this because I intended to remain so long there; and, although I knew no purchaser would treat after he saw the premises, yet still some one might be fool enough to come over and look at them, and even that would help me to pass the Christmas. My calculation turned out correct; for before a week was over, a letter reached me, stating that a Mr. Green, of No. 196 High Holborn, would pay me a visit as soon as the weather moderated and permitted him to travel If he waits for that, thought I, he 'll not find me here; and if it blows as hard for the next week, he 'll not find the house either; so I mixed another tumbler of punch, and hummed myself to sleep with the “Battle of Ross.”
'It was about four or five evenings after I received this letter that old Dan M'Cormick—a kind of butler I have, a handy fellow; he was a steward for ten years in the Holyhead packet—burst into the room about ten o'clock, when I was disputing with myself whether I took six tumblers or seven—I said one, the decanter said the other.
'“It's blowing terrible, Mr. Bob,” said Dan.
'“Let it blow! What else has it to do?”
'“The trees is tumbling about as if they was drunk; there won't be one left before morn.”
'“They're right,” says I, “to leave that, for the soil was never kind for planting.”
'“Two of the chimneys is down,” says he.
'“Devil mend them!” said I, “they were always smoking.”
'“And the hall door,” cried he, “is blown flat into the hall.”
'“It's little I care,” said I; “if it couldn't keep out the sheriff it may let in the storm, if it pleases.”
'“Murther! murther!” said he, wringing his hands, “I wish we were at say! It's a cruel thing to have one's life perilled this way.”
'While we were talking, a gossoon burst into the room with the news that the Milford packet had just gone ashore somewhere below the Hook Tower, adding, as is always the case on such occasions, that they were all drowned.
'I jumped up at this, put on my shooting-shoes, buttoned up my frieze coat, and followed by Dan, took a short cut over the hills towards Passage, where I now found the packet had been driven in. Before we had gone half a mile I heard the voices of some country-people coming up the road towards me; but it was so dark you couldn't see your hand.
'“Who's there?” said I.
'“Tim Molloy, your honour,” was the answer.
'“What's the matter, Tim?” said I. “Is there anything wrong?”
'“Nothing, sir, glory be to God—it's only the corpse of the gentleman that was drowned there below.”
'“I ain't dead, I tell you; I'm only faint,” called out a shrill voice.
'“He says he's better,” said Tim; “and maybe it's only the salt water that's in him; and, faix, when we found him, there was no more spark in him than in a wet sod.”
'Well, the short of it was, we brought him up to the house, rubbed him with gunpowder before the fire, gave him about half a pint of burnt spirits, and put him to bed, he being just able to tell me, as he was dropping asleep, that he was my friend from No. 196 High Holborn.
'The next morning I sent up Dan to ask how he was, and he came down with the news that he was fast asleep. “The best thing he could do,” said I; and I began to think over what a mighty load it would be upon my conscience if the decent man had been drowned. “For, maybe, after all,” thought I, “he is in earnest, maybe he wished to buy a beautiful place like that I have described in the papers”; and so I began to relent, and wonder with myself how I could make the country pleasant for him during his stay. “It'll not be a day or two at farthest, particularly after he sees the place. Ay, there's the rub—the poor devil will find out then that I have been hoaxing him.” This kept fretting me all day; and I was continually sending up word to know if he was awake, and the answer always was—still sleeping.
'Well, about four o'clock, as it was growing dark, Oakley of the Fifth and two of his brother officers came bowling up to the door, on their way to Carrick. Here was a piece of luck! So we got dinner ready for the party, brought a good store of claret at one side of the fireplace, and a plentiful stock of bog-fir at the other, and resolved to make a night of it; and just as I was describing to my friends the arrival of my guest above-stairs, who should enter the room but himself. He was a round little fellow, about my size, with a short, quick, business-like way about him. Indeed, he was a kind of a drysalter, or something of that nature, in London, had made a large fortune, and wished to turn country gentleman. I had only time to learn these few particulars, and to inform him that he was at that moment in the mansion he had come to visit, when dinner was announced.
'Down we sat; and, 'faith, a jollier party rarely met f together. Poor Mr. Green knew but little of Ireland; but we certainly tried to enlighten him; and he drank in wonders with his wine at such a rate that by eleven o'clock he was carried to his room pretty much in the same state as on his arrival the night before, the only difference being, it was Sneyd, not saltwater, this time that filled him.
'“I like the cockney,” said Oakley; “that fellow's good fun. I say, Bob, bring him over with you to-morrow to dinner. We halt at Carrick till the detachment comes up.”
'“Could you call it breakfast?” said I. “There's a thought just strikes me: we'll be over in Carrick with you about six o'clock; well have our breakfast, whatever you like to give us, and dine with you about eleven or twelve afterwards.”
'Oakley liked the project well; and before we parted the whole thing was arranged for the next day.
'Towards four o'clock in the afternoon of the following day Mr. Green was informed by Daniel that, as we had made an engagement to take an early breakfast some miles off, he ought to be up and stirring; at the same time a pair of candles were brought into the room, hot water for shaving, etc; and the astonished cockney, who looked at his watch, perceived that it was but four.
'“These are very early people,” thought he. “However, the habits of the country must be complied with.” So saying, he proceeded with his toilette, and at last reached the drawing-room, just as my drag dashed up to the door—the lamps fixed and shining, and everything in readiness for departure.
'“We''ll have a little shooting, Mr. Green,” said I. “After breakfast, we'll see what my friend's preserves offer. I suppose you're a good shot?”
“'I can't say much for my performance; but I'm passionately fond of it.”
'“Well,” added I, “I believe I can answer for it, you 'll have a good day here.”
'So chatting, we rolled along, the darkness gradually thickening round us, and the way becoming more gloomy and deserted.
'“It's strange,” says Mr. Green, after a while; “it's strange, how very dark it grows before sunrise; for I perceive it's much blacker now than when we set out.”
'“Every climate has its peculiarities,” said I; “and now that we 're used to this, we like it better than any other. But see there, yonder, where you observe the light in the valley—that's Carrick. My friend's house is a little at the side of the town. I hope you 've a good appetite for breakfast.”
'“Trust me, I never felt so hungry in my life.”
'“Ah, here they come!” said Oakley, as he stood with a lantern in his hand at the barrack-gate; “here they are! Good-morning, Mr. Green. Bob, how goes it? Heavenly morning!”
'“Delightful indeed,” said poor Green, though evidently not knowing why.
'“Come along, boys, now,” said Oakley; “we've a great deal before us; though I am afraid, Mr. Green, you will think little of our Irish sporting after your English preserves. However, I have kept a few brace of pheasants, very much at your service, in a snug clover-field near the house. So now to breakfast.”
'There were about half a dozen of the Fifth at that time in the barrack, who all entered heart and hand into the scheme, and with them we sat down to a capital meal, which, if it was not for a big tea-pot and an urn that figured in the middle of the table, might very well have been called dinner. Poor Mr. Green, who for old prejudice' sake began with his congo and a muffin, soon afterwards, and by an easy transition, glided into soup and fish, and went the pace with the rest of us. The claret began to circulate briskly, and after a couple of hours the whisky made its appearance. The Englishman, whose attention was never suffered to flag with singular anecdotes of a country, whose eccentricities he already began to appreciate, enjoyed himself to the utmost. He laughed, he drank, he even proposed to sing; and with one hand on Oakley's shoulder, and the other on mine, he registered a vow to purchase an estate and spend the rest of his days in Ireland. It was now about eleven o'clock, when I proposed that we should have a couple of hours at the woodcocks before luncheon.
'“Ah, yes,” said Green, rubbing his hands, “let us not forget the shooting. I 'm passionately fond of sport.”
'It took some time to caparison ourselves for the field. Shot-bags, flasks, and powder-horns were distributed about, while three brace of dogs caracoled round the room, and increased the uproar. We now sallied forth. It was a dark and starless night—the wind still Mowing a hurricane from the north-east, and not a thing to be seen two yards from where you stood.
'“Glorious weather!” said Oakley.
'“A delicious morning!” cried another. “When those clouds blow over we shall have no rain.”
'“That's a fine line of country, Mr. Green,” said I.
'“Eh? what? a fine what? I can see nothing—it's pitch dark.”
'“Ah, I forgot,” said I. “How stupid we were, Oakley, not to remember that Mr. Green was not used to our climate! We can see everything, you know; but come along, you'll get better by-and-by.”
'With this we hurried him down a lane, through a hedge, and into a ploughed field; while on every side of him pop, pop went the guns, accompanied by exclamations of enthusiastic pleasure and delight.
'“There they go—mark! That's yours, Tom! Well done—cock pheasant* by Jove! Here, Mr. Green! this way, Mr. Green! that dog is pointing—there, there! don't you see there?” said I, almost lifting the gun to his shoulder, while poor Mr. Green, almost in a panic of excitement and trepidation, pulled both triggers, and nearly fell back with the recoil.
'“Splendid shot, begad!—killed both,” said Oakley. “Ah, Mr. Green, we have no chance with you. Give him another gun at once.”
'“I should like a little brandy,” said Mr. Green, “for my feet are wet.”
'I gave him my flask, which he emptied at a pull; while, at the same time, animated with fresh vigour, he tramped manfully forward, without fear or dread. The firing still continued hotly around us; and as Mr. Green discharged his piece whenever he was bid, we calculated that in about an hour and a half he had fired above a hundred and fifty times. Wearied and fatigued by his exertions, at length he sat down upon a bank, while one of the gamekeepers covered the ground about him with ducks, hens, and turkey-cooks, as the spoils of his exertions.
'At Oakley's proposal we now agreed to go back to luncheon, which I need not tell you was a hot supper, followed by mulled claret and more punch. Here the cockney came out still better than before. His character as a sportsman raised him in his own esteem, and he sang “The Poacher” for two hours, until he fell fast asleep on the carpet. He was then conveyed to bed, where, as on the former day, he slept till late in the afternoon.
'Meanwhile, I had arranged another breakfast-party at Ross, where we arrived about seven o'clock in the evening—and so on for the rest of the week, occasionally varying the amusement by hunting, fishing, or coursing.
'At last poor Mr. Green, when called on one morning to dress, sent down Dan with his compliments that he wished to speak to me. I went to him at once, and found him sitting up in his bed.
'“Ah, Mr. Manon,” said he, “this will never do; it's a pleasant life, no doubt, but I never could go On with it. Will you tell me one thing—do you never see the sun here?”
'“Oh, bless you! yes,” said I; “repeatedly. He was out for two hours on last Patrick's Day, and we have him now and then, promiscuously!”
'“How very strange, how very remarkable,” said he, with a sigh, “that we in England should know so little of all this! But, to tell you the truth, I don't think I ever could get used to Lapland—it's Ireland I mean; I beg your pardon for the mistake. And now, may I ask you another question—Is this the way you always live?”
'“Why, pretty much in this fashion; during the hazy season we go about to one another's houses, as you see; and one gets so accustomed to the darkness——”
'“Ah, now, don't tell me that! I know I never could—it's no use my trying it. I 'm used to the daylight; I have seen it, man and boy, for about fifty years, and I never could grope about this way. Not but that I am very grateful to you for all your hospitality; but I had rather go home.”
'“You'll wait for morning, at all events,” said I; “you will not leave the house in the dead of the night?”
'“Oh, indeed, for the matter of that, it doesn't signify much; night and day is much about the same thing in this country.”
'And so he grew obstinate, and notwithstanding all I could say, insisted on his departure; and the same evening he sailed from the quay of Waterford, wishing me every health and happiness, while he added, with a voice of trembling earnestness—
'“Yes, Mr. Mahon, pardon me if I am wrong, but I wish to heaven you had a little more light in Ireland!”'
I am unable to say how far the good things of Major Mahon's table seasoned the story I have just related; but I confess I laughed at it loud and long, a testimony on my part which delighted the Major's heart; for, like all anecdote-mongers, he was not indifferent to flattery.
'The moral particularly pleases me,' said I.
'Ah, but the whole thing's true as I am here. Whisht! there's somebody at the door. Come in, whoever you are.'
At these words the door cautiously opened, and a boy of about twelve years of age entered. He carried a bundle under one arm, and held a letter in his hand.
'Oh, here it is,' said Father Tom. 'Come here, Patsey, my boy, here's the penny I promised you. There, now, don't make a bad use of your money.'
The little fellow's eyes brightened, and with a happy smile and a pull of his forelock for a bow, left the room delighted.
'Twelve miles—ay, and long miles too—in less than three hours! Not bad travelling, Captain, for a bit of a gossoon like that.'
'And for a penny!' said I, almost startled with surprise.
'To be sure,' said the priest, as he cut the cord of the package, and opened it on the table. 'Here we are! as nate a jacket as ever I set my eyes on, green and white, with a cap of the same.' So saying, he unfolded the racing-costume, which, by the desire of both parties, I was obliged immediately to try on. 'There, now,' resumed he; 'turn about; it fits you like your skin.'
'It looks devilish well, upon my word,' said the Major. 'Put on the cap; and see too, he has sent a whip—that was very thoughtful of Dillon. But what's this letter here? for you, I think, Mr. Hinton.'
The letter was in a lady's hand; I broke the seal and read as follows:—
'Mount Brown, Wednesday Evening.'
'Dear Sir,—My uncle Dillon requests that you will give us the pleasure of your company to dinner to-morrow at six o'clock. I have taken the liberty to tell him that as we are old acquaintances you will perhaps kindly overlook his not having visited you to-day; and I shall feel happy if, by accepting the invitation, you will sustain my credit on this occasion.
'He desires me to add that the racing-jacket, etc, are most perfectly at your service, as well as any articles of horse-gear you may be in want of.—-Believe me, dear sir, truly yours, Louisa Bellow.'
A thrill of pleasure ran through me as I read these lines; and, notwithstanding my efforts to conceal my emotion from my companions, they but too plainly saw the excitement I felt.
'Something agreeable there! You don't look, Mr. Hinton, as if that were a latitat or a bill of costs you were reading.'
'Not exactly,' said I, laughing. 'It is an invitation to dinner from Mount Brown—wherever that may be.'
'The best house in the county,' said the Major; 'and a good fellow he is, Hugh Dillon. When is it for?'
'To-morrow at six.'
'Well, if he has not asked me to meet you, I 'll invite myself, and we 'll go over together.'
'Agreed,' said I. 'But how shall I send back the answer?'
The Major promised to send his servant over with the reply, which I penned at once.
'Just tell Hugh,' said the Major, 'that I'll join you.'
I blushed, stammered, and looked confused. 'I am not writing to Mr. Dillon,' said I, 'for the invitation came through a lady of the family, Miss Bellew—his niece, I believe.'
'Whew!' said the Major, with a long whistle. 'Is it there we are! Oh, by the powers, Mr. Hinton! that's not fair—to come down here not only to win our money in a steeplechase, but to want to carry off the belle of our county besides. That 'll never do.'
'She doesn't belong to you at all,' said Father Tom; 'she is a parishioner of mine, and so were her father and grandfather before her. And moreover than that, she is the prettiest girl, and the best too, in the county she lives in—and that's no small praise, for it's Galway I'm talking of. And now here's a bumper to her, and who 'll refuse it?'
'Not I, certainly.'
'Nor I,' said the Major, as we drank to her health with all the honours.
'Now for another jug,' quoth the Major, as he moved towards the fireplace in search of the kettle.
'After that toast, not another drop,' said I resolutely.
'Well said!' chimed in the priest; 'may I never, if that wasn't very Irish!'
Firmly resisting all the Major's solicitations to resume my place at the table, I wished both my friends goodnight; and having accepted Bob Mahon's offer of a seat in his tax-cart to the race, I shook their hands warmly, and took my leave.
CHAPTER XXV. THE STEEPLECHASE
I did not awake till past noon the next day, and had only completed my dressing when Major Mahon made his appearance. Having pronounced my costume accurate, and suggested that instead of carrying my racing-cap in my hat I should tie the string round my neck and let it hang down in front, he assisted me on with my greatcoat, in which, notwithstanding that the season was summer, and the day a hot one, he buttoned me up to the chin and down to the knees.
'There, now,' said he, 'you look mighty like the thing. Where's your whip? We have no time to lose, so jump into the tax-cart, and let us be off.'
As my reader may remember, the race-ground lay about a mile from the town; but the road thither, unlike the peaceful quiet of the preceding night, was now thronged with people on foot and horseback. Vehicles, too, of every description were there—barouches and landaus, hack-chaises, buggies, and jaunting-cars, whiskys, noddies, and, in fact, every species of conveyance pronounced capable of rolling upon its wheels, was put into requisition. Nor was the turn-out of cavalry of a character less mixed. Horses of every shape and colour—some fat from grass; others lean, like anatomical specimens; old and young; the rich and the poor; the high-sheriff of the county, with his flashy four-in-hand; the mendicant on his crutches—all pressed eagerly forward. And as I surveyed the motley mass I felt what pleasure I could take in the scene, were I not engaged as a principal performer.
On reaching the course we found it already occupied by numerous brilliant equipages, and a strong cavalcade of horsemen; of these the greater number were well mounted, and amused themselves and the bystanders by leaping the various fences around—a species of pastime which occasionally afforded food for laughter, many a soiled coat and broken hat attesting the colour and consistence of the clayey ground. There were also refreshment-booths, stalls for gaming on a humble scale, tables laid out with beer, hard eggs, and gingerbread—in a word, all the ordinary and extraordinary preparations which accompany any great assemblage of people whose object is amusement.
A temporary railing of wood, rudely and hastily put together, inclosed a little space reserved as a weighing-stand; here the stewards of the course were assembled, along with 'the dons' of the country; and into this privileged sanctum was I introduced by the Major, in due form. All eyes were turned on me as I entered; and whether from the guardianship of him who acted as my chaperon, or that the costume of my coat and overalls had propitiated their favour, I cannot say; but somehow I felt that there was more courtesy in their looks, and an air of greater civility in their bearing, than I had remarked the preceding day at the Town-hall. True, these were, for the most part, men of better stamp—the real gentry of the country—who, devotedly attached to field-sports, had come, not as betting characters, but to witness a race. Several of them took off their hats as I approached, and saluted me with politeness. While returning their courtesy, I felt my arm gently touched, and on looking around perceived Mr. Dillon, of Mount Brown, who, with a look of most cordial greeting, and an outstretched hand, presented himself before me.
'You 'll dine with us, Mr. Hinton, I hope?' said he. 'No apology, pray. You shall not lose the hall, for my girls insist on going to it, so that we can all come in together. There, now, that is settled. Will you permit me to introduce you to a few of my friends? Here's Mr. Barry Connolly wishes much to know you. You 'll pardon me, Mr. Hinton, but your name is so familiar to me through my niece, I forget that we are not old acquaintances.'
So saying, the little man took my arm and led me about through the crowd, introducing me right and left. Of the names, the rank, and the residences of my new friends, I knew as much as I did of the domestic arrangements of the King of Congo; but one thing I can vouch for—more unbounded civility and hospitable attention never did man receive. One gentleman begged me to spend a few days with him at his shooting-lodge in the mountains—another wanted to make up a coursing-party for me—a third volunteered to mount me if I'd come down in the hunting season; one and all gave me most positive assurance that if I remained in the country I should neither lack bed nor board for many a day to come.
But a few days before, and in my ignorance I had set down this same class as rude, underbred, and uncivilised; and had I left the country on the preceding evening, I should have carried away my prejudices with me. The bare imitation of his better that the squireen presents was the source of this blunder; the spurious currency had, by its false glitter, deteriorated the sterling coin in my esteem; but now I could detect the counterfeit from the genuine metal.
'The ladies are on this side,' said Mr. Dillon. 'Shall we make our bow to them?'
'You'll not have time, Dillon,' said a friend who overheard his remark: 'here come the horses.'
As he spoke, a distant cheer rose from the bottom of the hill, which, gradually taken up by those nearer, grew louder and louder, till it filled the very air.
'What is it?' said I eagerly.
'It's Jug of Punch,' said a person beside me. 'The mare was bred in the neighbourhood, and excites a great interest among the country-people.'
The crowd now fell back rapidly, and Mr. Burke, seated in a high tandem, dashed up to the weighing-stand, and, giving the reins to his servant, sprang to the ground. His costume was a loose coat of coarse drab cloth, beset on every side by pockets of various shapes and dimensions; long gaiters of the same material incased his legs, and the memorable white hat, set most rakishly on his head, completed his equipment.
Scarcely had he put foot to the ground when he was surrounded by a number of his obsequious followers; but, paying little or no attention to their proffered civilities, he brushed rudely through them, and walked straight up to where I was standing. There was an air of swaggering insolence in his manner which could not be mistaken; and I could mark that, in the sidelong glance he threw about him, he intended that our colloquy should be for the public ear. Nodding familiarly, while he touched his hat with one finger, he addressed me.
'Good-morning, sir; I am happy to have met you so soon. There is a report that we are to have no race: may I ask you if there be any ground for it?'
'Not so far as I am concerned,' replied I, in a tone of quiet indifference.
'At least,' resumed he, 'there would seem some colour for the rumour. Your horse is not here—I understand he has not left the stable—and your groom is among the crowd below. I only asked the question, as it affects my betting-book; there are doubtless here many gentlemen among your friends who would wish to back you.'
This was said with an air of sneering mockery so palpable as to call forth an approving titter from the throng of satellites at his back.
Without deigning any reply to his observation, I whispered a few words to the Major, who at once, taking a horse from a farmer, threw himself into the saddle and cantered off to the mill.
'In fifteen minutes the time will be up,' said Mr. Burke, producing his watch. 'Isn't that so, Dillon? You are the judge here.'
'Perfectly correct,' replied the little man, with a hasty confused manner that showed me in what awe he stood of his redoubted relative.
'Then in that time I shall call on you to give the word to start; for I believe the conditions require me to ride over the course, with or without a competitor.'
So saying, Mr Burke proceeded leisurely to unbutton his greatcoat, which, with the assistance of his friends, he drew off. Two sedulous familiars were meanwhile unbuttoning his gaiters, and in a few seconds he stood forth what even my most prejudiced judgment could not deny—the very beau-ideal of a gentleman-rider. His jacket, of black and yellow, bore the stains of more than one race; but his whole carriage, not less than his costume, looked like one who felt every inch the jockey. His mare was led within the ropes to be saddled—a proceeding conducted under his own eye, and every step of which he watched with critical nicety. This done, he sat down upon a bench, and, with watch in hand, seemed to count the minutes as they flew past.
'Here we are! here we are! all right, Hinton!' shouted the Major, as he galloped up the hill. 'Jump into the scale, my lad; your saddle is beside you. Don't lose a moment.'
'Yes, off with your coat,' said another, 'and jump in!'
Divesting myself of my outer garments with a speed not second to that of Mr. Burke, I took my saddle under my arm, and seated myself in the scale. The groom fortunately had left nothing undone, and my saddle being leaded to the required weight, the operation took not a minute.
'Saddle now as quickly as you can,' whispered Dillon; 'for Burke, being overweight, won't get into the scale.'
While he was yet speaking, the gallant grey was led in, covered with clothing from head to tail.
'All was quite right,' said Mahon, in a low whisper—'your horse won't bear a crowd, and the groom kept him stabled to the last moment. You are in luck besides,' continued he: 'they say he is in a good temper this morning—and, indeed, he walked up from the mill as gently as a lamb.'
'Mount, gentlemen!' cried Mr. Dillon, as, with watch in hand, he ascended a little platform in front of the weighing-stand.
I had but time to throw one glance at my horse when the Major gave me his hand to lift me into the saddle.
'After you, sir,' said Mr. Burke, with a mock politeness, as he drew back to permit me to pass out first.
I touched my horse gently with the snaffle, but he stood stock-still; I essayed again, but with no better success. The place was too crowded to permit of any attempt to bully him, so I once more tried gentle means. It was of no use—he stood rooted to the ground. Before I could determine what next to do, Mahon sprang forward and took him by the head, when the animal walked quietly forward without a show of restiveness.
'He's a droll devil,' said the groom, 'and in one of his odd humours this morning, for that's what I never saw him do before.'
I could see as I passed out that this little scene, short as it was, had not impressed the bystanders with any exalted notion of my horsemanship; for although there was nothing actually to condemn, my first step did not seem to augur well. Having led me forth before the stand, the Major pointed with his finger to the line of country before me, and was repeating the priest's injunctions, when Mr. Burke rode up to my side, and, with a smile of very peculiar meaning, said—
'Are you ready now, sir?'
I nodded assent. The Major let go the bridle.
'We are all ready, Dillon!' cried Burke, turning in his saddle.
'All ready!' repeated Dillon; 'then away!'
As he spoke, the hell rang, and off we went.
For about thirty yards we cantered side by side—the grey horse keeping stroke with the other, and not betraying the slightest evidence of bad temper. Whatever my own surprise, the amazement of Burke was beyond all bounds. He turned completely round in his saddle to look, and I could see, in the workings of his features, the distrustful expression of one who suspected he had been duped. Meanwhile, the cheers of the vast multitude pealed high on every side; and, as the thought flashed across me that I might still acquit myself with credit, my courage rose, and I gripped my saddle with double energy.
At the foot of the slope there was, as I have already mentioned, a small fence; towards this we were now approaching at the easy sling of a hand-gallop, when suddenly Burke's features—which I watched from time to time with intense anxiety—changed their expression of doubt and suspicion for a look of triumphant malice. Putting spurs to his horse, he sprang a couple of lengths in advance, and rode madly at the fence; the grey stretched out to follow, and already was I preparing for the leap, when Burke, who had now reached the fence, suddenly swerved his horse round, and, affecting to baulk, cantered back towards the hill. The manoeuvre was perfectly successful. My horse, who up to that moment was going on well, threw his forelegs far out, and came to a dead stop. In an instant the trick was palpable to my senses; and, in the heat of my passion, I dashed in both spurs, and endeavoured to lift him by the rein. Scarcely had I done so, when, as if the very ground beneath had jerked us upwards, he sprang into the air, dashing his head forward between the forelegs, and throwing up his haunches behind, till I thought we should come clean over in the somersault. I kept my seat, however; and thinking that boldness alone could do at such a moment, I only waited till he reached the ground, when I again drove the spurs up to the rowels in his flanks. With a snort of passion he bounded madly up, and pawing the air for some moments with his forelegs, lit upon the earth, panting with rage, and trembling in every limb.