Jack Hinton: The Guardsman

CHAPTER XXVIII. THE INN FIRE

How I escaped from that room, and by what means I found myself in the street, I know not. My first impulse was to tear off my cravat, that I might breathe more freely; still a sense of suffocation oppressed me, and I felt stunned and stupefied.

'Come along, Hinton—rouse yourself, my boy! See, your coat is drenched with rain,' said a friendly voice behind me; while, grasping me forcibly by the arm, the Major led me forward.

'What have I done?' cried I, struggling to get free. 'Tell me—oh, tell me, have I done wrong? Have I committed any dreadful thing? There is an aching pain here—here in my forehead, as though——- I dare not speak my shame.'

'Nothing of the kind, my boy,' said Mahon: 'you've conducted yourself admirably. Matt Keane saw it all, and he says he never witnessed anything finer; and he's no bad judge, let me tell you. So, there now, be satisfied, and take off your wet clothes.'

There was something imperative in the tone in which he spoke; besides, the Major was one of those people who somehow or other always contrive to have their own way in the world; so that I yielded at once, feeling, too, that any opposition would only defer my chance of an explanation.

While I was thus occupied in my inner room, I could overhear my friend without engaged in the preparation of a little supper, mingling an occasional soliloquy with the simmering of the grilled bone that browned upon the fire—the clink of glasses and plates, and all the evidences of punch-making, breaking every now and then amid such reflections as these:—

'A mighty ugly business! nothing for it but meeting him. Poor lad, they'll say we murdered him among us! Och, he's far too young for Galway. Holloa, Hinton, are you ready? Now you look something reasonable; and when we've eaten a bit, well talk this matter over coolly and sensibly. And to make your mind easy, I may tell you at once, I have arranged a meeting for you with Burke at five to-morrow morning.'

I grasped his hand convulsively within mine, as a gleam of savage satisfaction shot through me.

'Yes, yes,' said he, as if replying to my look, 'it's all as it ought to be. Even his own friends are indignant at his conduct; and indeed I may say it's the first time a stranger has met with such in our country.'

'I can well believe it,' Major,' said I; 'for, unless from the individual in question, I have met with nothing but kindness and good feeling amongst you. He indeed would seem an exception to his countrymen.'

'Therefore the sooner you shoot him the better. But I wish I could Father Tom.'

'Adest, domine,' cried the priest, at the same moment, as he entered the room, throwing his wet greatcoat into a corner and giving himself a shake a Newfoundland dog might have envied. 'Isn't this pretty work, Bob?' said he, turning to his cousin with a look of indignant reproach: 'he is not twenty-four hours in the town, and you've got him into a fight already! And sure it's my own fault that ever brought you together. Nec fortunam nec gratiam habes—no indeed, you have neither luck nor grace. Mauvaise tête, as the French say—-always in trouble. Arrah, don't be talking to me at all, at all! reach me over the spirits. Sorra better I ever saw you!—disturbing me out of my virtuous dreams at two in the morning. True enough, dic mihi societatem tuam; but little I thought he'd be getting you shot before you left the place.'

I endeavoured to pacify the good priest as well as I was able; the Major too made every explanation; but what between his being called out of bed, his anger at getting wet, and his cousin's well-known character for affairs of this nature, it was not before he had swallowed his second tumbler of punch that he would 'listen to rayson.'

'Well, well, if it is so, God's will be done,' said he with a sigh. 'Un bon coup d'épee, as we used to say formerly, is beautiful treatment for bad blood; but maybe you're going to fight with pistols? Oh, murther, them's dreadful things!'

'I begin to suspect,' said the Major slyly, 'that Father Tom's afraid if you shoot Ulick he'll never get that fifty pounds he won. Hinc illo lacrymo—eh, Tom?'

'Ah, the spalpeen,' said the priest, with a deep groan, 'didn't he do me out of that money already?'

'How so, father?' said I, scarce able to repress my laughter at the expression of his face.

'I was coming down the main street yesterday evening with Doctor Plunkett, the bishop, beside me, discoursing a little theology, and looking as pious and respectable as may be, when that villain Burke came running out of a shop, and pulling out his pocket-book, cried—

'“Wait a bit, Father Tom, you know I'm a little in your debt about that race; and as you're a sporting character, it's only fair to book up at once.”

'“What is this I hear, Father Loftus?” says the bishop.

'“Oh, my lord,” say I, “he's a jocosus puer—a humbugging bla-guard; a farceur, your reverence, and that's the way he is always cutting his jokes upon the people.”

“'And so he does not owe you this money?” said the bishop, looking mighty hard at us both.

'“Not a farthing of it, my lord.”

'“That's comfortable, anyhow,” says Burke, putting up his pocket-book; “and 'faith, my lord,” said he with a wink, “I wish I had a loan of you for an hour or two every settling day, for troth you 're a trump!” And with that he went off laughing, till ye'd have thought he'd split his sides—and I am sure I wish he had.'

I don't think Mr. Burke himself could have laughed louder or longer at his scheme than did we in hearing it, The priest at length joined in the mirth, and I could perceive, as the punch made more inroads upon him and the evening wore on, that his holy horror of duelling was gradually melting away before the warmth of his Hibernian propensities, like a wet sponge passed across the surface of a dark picture, bringing forth from the gloom many a figure and feature indistinct before, and displaying touches of light not hitherto appreciable, so whisky seems to exercise some strange power of displaying its votaries in all their breadth of character, divesting them of the adventitious clothes in which position or profession has invested them. Thus a tipsy Irishman stands forth in the exuberance of his nationality, Hibernicis Hibernior. Forgetting all his moral declamation on duelling, oblivious of his late indignation against his cousin, he rubbed his hands pleasantly, and related story after story of his own early experiences, some of them not a little amusing.

The Major, however, seemed not fully to enjoy the priest's anecdotical powers, but sipped his glass with a grave and sententious air. 'Very true, Tom,' said he at length, breaking silence; 'you have seen a fair share of these things for a man of your cloth. But where's the man living—show him to me, I say—that has had my experience, either as principal or second? Haven't I had my four men out in the same morning?'

'Why, I confess,' said I meekly, 'that does seem an extravagant allowance.'

'Clear waste, downright profusion, du luxe, mon cher, nothing else,' observed Father Tom.

Meanwhile, the Major rolled his eyes fearfully at me, and fidgeted in his chair with impatience to be asked for his story; and as I myself had some curiosity on the subject, I begged him to relate it.

'Tom, here, doesn't like a story at supper,' said the Major pompously; for, perceiving our attitude of attention, he resolved on being a little tyrannical before telling it.

The priest made immediate submission; and, slyly hinting that his objection only lay against stories he had been hearing for the last thirty years, said he could listen to the narration in question with much pleasure.

'You shall have it, then,' said the Major, as he squared himself in his chair, and thus began:—

'You have never been in Castle Connel, Hinton? Well, there is a wide bleak line of country there, that stretches away to the westward, with nothing but large round-backed mountains, low boggy swamps, with here and there a miserable mud hovel, surrounded by, maybe, half an acre of lumpers, or bad oats; a few small streams struggle through this on their way to the Shannon, but they are brown and dirty as the soil they traverse; and the very fish that swim in them are brown and smutty also.

'In the very heart of this wild country, I took it into my head to build a house. A strange notion it was, for there was no neighbourhood and no sporting; but, somehow, I had taken a dislike to mixed society some time before that, and I found it convenient to live somewhat in retirement; so that, if the partridges were not in abundance about me, neither were the process-servers; and the truth was, I kept a much sharper look-out for the sub-sheriff than I did for the snipe.

'Of course, as I was over head and ears in debt, my notion was to build something very considerable and imposing; and, to be sure, I had a fine portico, and a flight of steps leading up to it; and there were ten windows in front, and a grand balustrade at the top; and 'faith, taking it all in all, the building was so strong, the walls so thick, the windows so narrow, and the stones so black, that my cousin Darcy Mahon called it Newgate; and not a bad name either—and the devil another it ever went by. And even that same had its advantages; for when the creditors used to read that at the top of my letters, they'd say, “Poor devil! he has enough on his hands: there's no use troubling him any more.” Well, big as Newgate looked from without, it had not much accommodation when you got inside. There was, 'tis true, a fine hall, all flagged; and, out of it, you entered what ought to have been the dinner-room, thirty-eight feet by seven-and-twenty, but which was used for herding sheep in winter. On the right hand, there was a cosy little breakfast-room, just about the size of this we are in. At the back of the hall, but concealed by a pair of folding-doors, there was a grand staircase of old Irish oak, that ought to have led up to a great suite of bedrooms, but it only conducted to one—a little crib I had for myself. The remainder were never plastered nor floored; and, indeed, in one of them, that was over the big drawing-room, the joists were never laid—which was all the better, for it was there we used to keep our hay and straw. Now, at the time I mention, the harvest was not brought in, and instead of its being full, as it used to be, it was mighty low; so that, when you opened the door above the stairs, instead of finding the hay up beside you, it was about fourteen feet down beneath you.

'I can't help boring you with all these details; first, because they are essential to my story; and next, because, being a young man, and a foreigner to boot, it may lead you to a little better understanding of some of our national customs. Of all the partialities we Irish have, after lush and the ladies, I believe our ruling passion is to build a big house, spend every shilling we have, or that we have not, as the case may be, in getting it half finished, and then live in a corner of it, “just for grandeur,” as a body may say. It's a droll notion, after all; but show me the county in Ireland that hasn't at least six specimens of what I mention.

'Newgate was a beautiful one; and although the she lived in the parlour, and the cows were kept in the blue drawing-room, Darby Whaley slept in the boudoir, and two bull-dogs and a buck goat kept house in the library—'faith, upon the outside it looked very imposing; and not one that saw it, from the highroad to Ennis—and you could see it for twelve miles in every direction—didn't say, “That Mahon must be a snug fellow: look what a beautiful place he has of it there!” Little they knew that it was safer to go up the “Reeks” than my grand staircase, and it was like rope-dancing to pass from one room to the other.

'Well, it was about four o'clock in the afternoon of a dark lowering day in December that I was treading homewards in no very good-humour; for except a brace and a half of snipe, and a grey plover, I had met with nothing the whole day. The night was falling fast; so I began to hurry on as quickly as I could, when I heard a loud shout behind me, and a voice called out—

'“It's Bob Mahon, boys! By the Hill of Scariff, we are in luck!”

'I turned about, and what should I see but a parcel of fellows in red coats—they were the Blazers. There was Dan Lambert, Tom Burke, Harry Eyre, Joe M'Mahon, and the rest of them—fourteen souls in all. They had come down to draw a cover of Stephen Blake's about ten miles from me; but, in the strange mountain country, they lost the dogs, they lost their way and their temper; in truth, to all appearance, they lost everything but their appetites. Their horses were dead beat too, and they looked as miserable a crew as ever you set eyes on.

'“Isn't it lucky, Bob, that we found you at home?” said Lambert.

'“They told us you were away,” says Burke.

'“Some said that you were grown so pious that you never went out except on Sundays,” added old Harry, with a grin.

'“Begad,” said I, “as to the luck, I won't say much for it; for here's all I can give you for your dinner”; and so I pulled out the four birds and shook them at them; “and as to the piety, troth, maybe you'd like to keep a fast with as devoted a son of the Church as myself.”

'“But isn't that Newgate up there?” said one.

'“That same.”

'“And you don't mean to say that such a house as that hasn't a good larder and a fine cellar?”

'“You're right,” said I; “and they're both full at this very moment—the one with seed-potatoes, and the other with Whitehaven coals.”

'“Have you got any bacon?” said M'Mahon.

'“Oh yes!” said I, “there's bacon.”

'“And eggs?” said another.

'“For the matter of that, you might swim in batter.”

'“Come, come,” said Dan Lambert, “we 're not so badly off after all.”

'“Is there whisky?” cried Eyre.

'“Sixty-three gallons, that never paid the king sixpence!”

'As I said this, they gave three cheers you'd have heard a mile off.

'After about twenty minutes' walking, we got up to the house, and when poor Darby opened the door, I thought he 'd faint; for, you see, the red coats made him think it was the army, coming to take me away; and he was for running off to raise the country, when I caught him by the neck.

'“It's the Blazers, ye old fool!” said I, “The gentlemen are come to dine here.”

'“Hurroo!” said he, clapping his hands on his knees—“there must be great distress entirely, down about Nenagh, and them parts, or they'd never think of coming up here for a bit to eat.”

'“Which way lie the stables, Bob?” said Burke.

'“Leave all that to Darby,” said I; for ye see he had only to whistle and bring up as many people as he liked. And so he did too; and as there was room for a cavalry regiment, the horses were soon bedded down and comfortable; and in ten minutes' time we were all sitting pleasantly round a big fire, waiting for the rashers and eggs.

'“Now, if you'd like to wash your hands before dinner, Lambert, come along with me.”

'“By all means,” said he.

'The others were standing up too; but I observed that as the house was large, and the ways of it unknown to them, it was better to wait till I'd come back for them.

'“This was a real piece of good-luck, Bob,” said Dan, as he followed me upstairs. “Capital quarters we've fallen into; and what a snug bedroom ye have here.”

'“Yes,” said I carelessly; “it's one of the small rooms. There are eight like this, and five large ones, plainly furnished, as you see; but for the present, you know——”

'“Oh, begad! I wish for nothing better. Let me sleep here—the other fellows may care for your four-posters with satin hangings.”

'“Well,” said I, “if you are really not joking, I may tell you that the room is one of the warmest in the house”—and this was telling no lie.

'“Here I 'll sleep,” said he, rubbing his hands with satisfaction, and giving the bed a most affectionate look. “And now let us join the rest.”

'When I brought Dan down, I took up Burke, and after him M'Mahon, and so on to the last; but every time I entered the parlour, I found them all bestowing immense praises on my house, and each fellow ready to bet he had got the best bedroom.

'Dinner soon made its appearance; for if the cookery was not very perfect, it was at least wonderfully expeditious. There were two men cutting rashers, two more frying them in the pan, and another did nothing but break the eggs, Darby running from the parlour to the kitchen and back again, as hard as he could trot.

'Do you know, now, that many a time since, when I have been giving venison, and Burgundy and claret enough to swim a lifeboat in, I often thought it was a cruel waste of money; for the fellows weren't half as pleasant as they were that evening on bacon and whisky!

'I've a theory on that subject, Hinton, I'll talk to you more about another time; I'll only observe now, that I'm sure we all overfeed our company. I've tried both plans; and my honest experience is, that as far as regards conviviality, fun, and good-fellowship, it is a great mistake to provide too well for your guests. There is something heroic in eating your mutton-chop, or your leg of a turkey, among jolly fellows; there is a kind of reflective flattering about it that tells you you have been invited for your drollery, and not for your digestion; and that your jokes and not your flattery have been your recommendation. Lord bless you! I 've laughed more over red-herrings and poteen than I ever expect to do again over turtle and toquay.

'My guests were, to do them justice, a good illustration of my theory. A pleasanter and a merrier party never sat down together. We had good songs, good stories, plenty of laughing, and plenty of drink; until at last poor Darby became so overpowered, by the fumes of the hot water I suppose, that he was obliged to be carried up to bed, and so we were compelled to boil the kettle in the parlour. This, I think, precipitated matters; for, by some mistake, they put punch into it instead of water, and the more you tried to weaken the liquor, it was only the more tipsy you were getting.

'About two o'clock, five of the party were under the table, three more were nodding backwards and forwards like insane pendulums, and the rest were mighty noisy, and now and then rather disposed to be quarrelsome.

'“Bob,” said Lambert to me, in a whisper, “if it's the same thing to you, I'll slip away and get into bed.”

'“Of course, if you won't take anything more. Just make yourself at home; and as you don't know the way here, follow me.”

'“I 'm afraid,” said he, “I 'd not find my way alone.”

'“I think,” said I, “it's very likely. But come along!”

'I walked upstairs before him; but instead of turning to the left, I went the other way, till I came to the door of the large room that I have told you already was over the big drawing-room. Just as I put my hand on the lock, I contrived to blow out the candle, as if it was the wind.

'“What a draught there is here,” said I; “but just step in, and I'll go for a light.”

'He did as he was bid; but instead of finding himself on my beautiful little carpet, down he went fourteen feet into the hay at the bottom. I looked down after him for a minute or two, and then called out—

“'As I am doing the honours of Newgate, the least I could do was to show you the drop. Good-night, Dan! but let me advise you to get a little farther from the door, as there are more coming.”

'Well, sir, when they missed Dan and me out of the room, two or three more stood up, and declared for bed also. The first I took up was Ffrench, of Green Park; for indeed he wasn't a cute fellow at the best of times; and if it wasn't that the hay was so low, he'd never have guessed it was not a feather-bed till he woke in the morning. Well, down he went. Then came Eyre; then Joe M'Mahon—two-and-twenty stone—no less! Lord pity them!—this was a great shock entirely! But when I opened the door for Tom Burke, upon my conscience you'd think it was Pandemonium they had down there. They were fighting like devils, and roaring with all their might.

'“Good-night, Tom,” said I, pushing Burke forward. “It's the cows you hear underneath.”

'“Cows!” said he. “If they 're cows, begad they must have got at that sixty-three gallons of poteen you talked of; for they're all drunk.”

'With that, he snatched the candle out of my hand and looked down into the pit. Never was such a sight seen before or since. Dan was pitching into poor Ffrench, who, thinking he had an enemy before him, was hitting out manfully at an old turf-creel, that rocked and creaked at every blow, as he called out—

'“I'll smash you! I'll ding your ribs for you, you' infernal scoundrel!”

'Eyre was struggling in the hay, thinking he was swimming for his life; and poor Joe M'Mahon was patting him on the head, and saying, “Poor fellow! good dog!” for he thought it was Towzer, the bull-terrier, that was prowling round the calves of his legs.

'“If they don't get tired, there will not be a man of them alive by morning!” said Tom, as he closed the door. “And now, if you 'll allow me to sleep on the carpet, I'll take it as a favour.”

'By this time they were all quiet in the parlour; so I lent Tom a couple of blankets and a bolster, and having locked my door, went to bed with an easy mind and a quiet conscience. To be sure, now and then a cry would burst forth, as if they were killing somebody below-stairs, but I soon fell asleep and heard no more of them.

'By daybreak next morning they made their escape; and when I was trying to awake at half-past ten, I found Colonel M'Morris, of the Mayo, with a message from the whole four.

'“A bad business this, Captain Mahon,” said he; “my friends have been shockingly treated.”

'“It's mighty hard,” said I, “to want to shoot me because I hadn't fourteen feather-beds in the house.”

'“They will be the laugh of the whole country, sir.”

'“Troth!” said I, “if the country is not in very low spirits, I think they will.”

'“There's not a man of them can see!—their eyes are actually closed up!”

'“The Lord be praised!” said I. “It's not likely they'll hit me.”

'But to make a short story of it—out we went. Tom Burke was my friend. I could scarce hold my pistol with laughing; for such faces no man ever looked at. But for self-preservation's sake, I thought it best to hit one of them; so I just pinked Ffrench a little under the skirt of the coat. '“Come, Lambert!” said the Colonel, “it's your turn now.”

'“Wasn't that Lambert,” said I, “that I hit?”

'“No,” said he, “that was Ffrench.”

'“Begad, I'm sorry for it. Ffrench, my dear fellow, excuse me; for you see you're all so like each other about the eyes this morning——”

'With this there was a roar of laughing from them all, in which, I assure you, Lambert took not a very prominent part; for somehow he didn't fancy my polite inquiries after him. And so we all shook hands, and left the ground as good friends as ever—though to this hour the name of Newgate brings less pleasant recollections to their minds than if their fathers had been hanged at its prototype.'

CHAPTER XXIX. THE DUEL

When morning broke, I started up and opened the window. It was one of those bright and beauteous daybreaks which would seem to be the compensation a northern climate possesses for its want of the azure sky of noon and the silvery moonlight of night, the gifts of happier climes. The pink hue of the sky was gradually replacing the paler tints, like a deep blush mantling the cheek of beauty; the lark was singing high in heaven, and the deep note of the blackbird came mellowed from the leafy grove; the cattle were still at rest, and seemed half unwilling to break the tranquil stillness of the scene, as they lay breathing the balmy odours from the wild flowers that grew around them. Such was the picture that lay on one side of me. On the other was the long street of a little town, on which yet the shadows of night were sleeping; the windows were closed; not a smoke-wreath rose from any chimney, but all was still and peaceful.

In my little parlour I found the good priest and the Major fast asleep in their chairs, pretty much in the same attitudes I had left them in some hours before. The fire had died away; the square decanter of whisky was emptied to its last drop, and the kettle lay pensively on one side, like some shipwrecked craft high and dry upon the shore. I looked at my watch; it was but four o'clock. Our meeting was appointed for half-past five; so I crept noiselessly back to my room, not sorry to have half an hour to myself of undisturbed reflection. When I had finished my dressing, I threw up the sash and sprang out into the garden. It was a wild, uncultivated spot; but still there was something of beauty in those old trees whose rich blossoms scented the air, while the rank weeds of many a gay and gaudy hue shot up luxuriantly about their trunks, the pink marsh-mallow and the taper foxglove mingling their colours with the sprayey meadowsweet and the wild sweet-brier. There was an air of solitude in the neglect around me that seemed to suit the habit of my soul; and I strolled along from one walk to another, lost in my own thoughts.

There were many things at a moment like that I would fain have written, fain have said; but so it is, in the wealth of our emotions we can give nothing, and I could not bring myself to write to my friends even to say farewell Although I felt that in every stage of this proceeding I had nothing to reproach myself with, this duel being thrust on me by one who had singled me out for his hatred, yet I saw as its result nothing but the wreck of all my hopes. Already had she intimated how strong was her father's attachment to his nephew, and with an expressive fear cautioned me against any collision with him. How vain are all our efforts, how fruitless are all our endeavours, to struggle against the current of our fate. We may stem for a short time the full tide of fortune, we may breast with courage high and spirit fierce the rough billows as they break upon us, but we are certain to succumb in the end. With some men failure is a question of fear; some want the persevering courage to drag on amid trials and difficulties; and some are deficient in the temper which, subduing our actions to a law, governs and presides over every moment of our lives, rendering us, even in our periods of excitement and irritation, amenable to the guidance of our reason. This was my case; and I felt that notwithstanding all my wishes to avoid a quarrel with Burke, yet in my heart a lurking spirit urged me to seek him out and offer him defiance.

While these thoughts were passing through my mind, I suddenly heard a voice which somehow seemed half familiar to my ear. I listened; it came from a room of which the window was partly open. I now remembered that poor Joe lay in that part of the house, and the next moment I knew it to be his. Placing a ladder against the wall, I crept quietly up till I could peep into the room. The poor fellow was alone, sitting up in his bed, with his hunting-cap on, an old whip in his hand, which he flourished from time to time with no small energy; his cheek was flushed, and his eye, prominent and flashing, denoted the access of high fever. It was evident that his faculties, clouded as they were even in their happiest moments, were now under the wilder influence of delirium. He was speaking rapidly to himself in a quick undertone, calling the dogs by name, caressing this one, scolding that; and then, bursting forth into a loud tally-ho, his face glowed with an ecstatic pleasure, and he broke forth into a rude chant, the words of which I have never forgotten, for as he sang them in a voice of wild and touching sweetness, they seemed the very outpourings of his poor simple heart:—

A loud view-holloa followed this wild chant; and then the poor fellow, as if exhausted by his efforts, sank back in the bed muttering to himself in a low broken voice, but with a look so happy, and a smile so tranquil, he seemed more a thing to envy than one to commiserate and pity.

'I say, Hinton!' shouted the Major from the window of my bedroom, 'what the deuce are you doing up that ladder there? Not serenading Mrs. Doolan, I hope. Are you aware it is five o'clock?'

I descended with all haste, and joining my friend, took his arm, and set out towards the rendezvous.

'I didn't order the horses,' said Mahon, 'for the rumour of such a thing as this always gets abroad through one's servants.'

'Ah, yes,' said I; 'and then you have the police.'

'The police!' repeated he, laughing—'not a bit of it, my boy; don't forget you're in glorious old Ireland, where no one ever thinks of spoiling a fair fight. It is possible the magistrate might issue his warrant if you would not come up to time, but for anything else——'

'Well,' said I, 'that certainly does afford me another glimpse of your habits. How far have we to go, Major?'

'You remember the grass-field below the sunk fence, to the left of the mill?'

'Where the stream runs?'

'Exactly; that's the spot. It was old Pigott chose it, and no man is a better judge of these things. By-the-bye, it is very lucky that Burke should have pitched upon a gentleman for his friend—I mean a real gentleman, for there are plenty of his acquaintances who under that name would rob the mail.'

Thus chatting as we went, Mahon informed me that Pigott was an old half-pay Colonel, whose principal occupation for thirteen years had been what the French would call 'to assist' at affairs of honour. Even the Major himself looked up to him as a last appeal in a disputed or a difficult point; and many a reserved case was kept for his opinion, with the same ceremonious observance as a knotty point of law for the consideration of the twelve judges. Crossing the little rivulet near the mill, we held on by a small bypath which brought us over the starting-ground of the steeplechase, by the scene of part of my preceding day's exploits. While I was examining with some curiosity the ground cut up and trod by the horses' feet, and looking at the spot where we had taken the fence, the sharp sound of two pistol-shots quickly aroused me, and I eagerly asked what it was.

'Snapping the pistols,' said Mahon. 'Ah, by-the-bye, all this kind of thing is new to you. Never mind; put a careless, half-indifferent kind of face on the matter. Do you take snuff? It doesn't signify; put your hands in your pockets, and hum “Tatter Jack Walsh!”'

As I supposed there was no specific charm in the melody he alluded to, nor if there had been, had I any time to acquire it, I consoled myself by observing the first part of his direction, and strolled after him into the field with a nonchalance only perhaps a little too perfect.

Mr. Burke and his friends, to the number of about a dozen persons, were already assembled; and were one to judge from their loud talking and hearty laughter as we came forward, it would seem difficult to believe the occasion that brought them there was that of mortal combat. So, at least, I thought. Not so, however, the Major; for with a hop, step, and a jump, performed by about the shortest pair of legs in the barony, he sprang into the midst of the party, with some droll observation on the benefits of early rising which once more called forth their merriment. Seating myself on a large moss-covered stone, I waited patiently for the preliminaries to be settled. As I threw my eye among the group, I perceived that Burke was not there; but on turning my head, I remarked two men walking arm-in-arm on the opposite side of the hedge. As they paced to and fro, I could see, by the violence of his gesticulations and the energy of his manner, that one was Burke. It seemed as though his companion was endeavouring to reason with and dissuade him from some course of proceeding he appeared bent on following; but there was a savage earnestness in his manner that would not admit of persuasion; and at last, as if wearied and vexed by his friend's importunities, he broke rudely from him, and springing over the fence, called out—

'Pigott, are you aware it is past six?' Then pulling out his watch, he added, 'I must be at Ballinasloe by eleven o'clock.'

'If you speak another word, sir,' said the old Colonel, with an air of offended dignity, 'I leave the ground. Major Mahon, a word, if you please.'

They walked apart from the rest for a few seconds; and then the Colonel, throwing his glove upon the grass, proceeded to step off the ground with a military precision and formality that I am sure at any other time would have highly amused me.

After a slight demur from the Major, to which I could perceive the Colonel readily yielded, a walking-stick was stuck at either end of the measured distance; while the two seconds, placing themselves beside them, looked at each other with very great satisfaction, and mutually agreed it was a sweet spot.

'Would you like to look at these?' said Pigott, taking up the pistols from where they lay on the grass.

'Ah, I know them well,' replied the Major, laughing; 'these were poor Tom Casey's, and a better fellow, and a handier with his iron, never snapped a trigger. These are ours, Colonel'; presenting, as he spoke, two splendid-looking Mortimers, in all the brilliancy of their maiden freshness. A look of contempt from the Colonel, and a most expressive shrug of his shoulders, was his reply.

'Begad, I think so,' said Mahon, as if appreciating the gesture; 'I had rather have that old tool with the cracked stock—not but this is a very sweet instrument, and elegantly balanced in the hand.'

'We are ready now,' said Pigott; 'bring up your man, Major.'

As I started up to obey the summons, a slight bustle near attracted me. Two or three of Burke's friends were endeavouring as it were to pacify and subdue him; but his passion knew no bounds, and as he broke from them, he said in a voice perfectly audible where I stood—

'Won't I, by G——! then I'll tell you, if I don't shoot him——-'

'Sir,' said the Colonel, turning on him a look of passionate indignation, 'if it were not that you were here to answer the appeal of wounded honour, I'd leave you to your fate this moment; as it is, another such expression as that you 've used, and I abandon you on the spot.'

Doggedly and without speaking, Burke drew his hat far down upon his eyes, and took the place marked out for him.

'Mr. Hinton,' said the Colonel, as he touched his hat with most courteous politeness, 'will you have the goodness to stand there?'

Mahon, meanwhile, handed each man his pistol, and whispering in my ear, 'Aim low,' retired.

'The word, gentlemen,' said the Colonel, 'will be, “One, two, three.” Mr. Hinton, pray observe, I beg of you, you 'll not reserve your fire after I say “three.”' With his eyes fixed upon us he walked back about ten paces. 'Are you ready? Are you both ready?'

'Yes, yes,' said Burke impatiently.

'Yes,'said I.

'One, two, three.'

I lifted my pistol at the second word, and as the last dropped from the Colonel's lips one loud report rang through the air, and both pistols went off together. A quick sharp pang shot through my cheek as though it had been seared by a hot instrument. I put up my hand, but the ball had only touched the flesh, and a few drops of blood were all the damage. Not so Burke; my ball had entered above the hip, and already his trousers were stained with blood, and notwithstanding his endeavours he could not stand up straight.

'Is he hit, Pigott?' cried he, in a voice harsh from agony. 'Is he hit, I say?'

'Only grazed,' said I tranquilly, as I wiped the stain from my face.

'Another pistol, quick! Do you hear me, Pigott?'

'We are not the arbiters in this case,' replied the Colonel coolly. 'Major Mahon, is your friend satisfied?'

'Perfectly satisfied on our own account,' said the Major; 'but if the gentleman desires another shot——'

'I do, I do!' screamed Burke, as, writhing with pain, he pressed both hands to his side, from which the blood, now gushing in torrents, formed a pool about his feet. 'Be quick there, Pigott! I am getting faint.' He staggered forward as he spoke, his face pale and his lips parted; then suddenly clutching his pistol by the barrel, he fixed his eyes steadily on me, while with a curse he hurled the weapon at my head, and fell senseless to the earth. His aim was true; for straight between the eyes the weapon struck me, and felled me to the ground. Although stunned for the moment, I could hear the cry of horror and indignant shame that broke from the bystanders; but the next instant a dreamy confusion came over me, and I became unconscious of what was passing around.

CHAPTER XXX. A COUNTRY DOCTOR

Should my reader feel any interest concerning that portion of my history which immediately followed the events of my last chapter, I believe I must refer him to Mrs. Doolan, the amiable hostess of the Bonaveen Arms. She could probably satisfy any curious inquiry as to the confusion produced in her establishment by the lively sallies of Tipperary Joe in one quarter, and the more riotous madness of myself in another. The fact is, good reader, my head was an English one; and although its contents were gradually acclimating themselves to the habits of the country, the external shell had not assumed that proper thickness and due power of resistance which Irish heads would appear to be gifted with. In plain words, the injury had brought on delirium.

It was somewhere in the third week after this unlucky morning that I found myself lying in my bed with a wet cloth upon my temples, while over my whole frame was spread that depressing sense of great debility more difficult to bear than acute bodily suffering. Although unable to speak, I could distinctly hear the conversation about me, and recognise the voices of both Father Tom and the Major as they conversed with a third party, whom I afterwards learned was the Galen of Loughrea.

Dr. Mopin, surgeon of the Roscommon militia, had been for forty years the terror of the sick of the surrounding country; for, independent of a naturally harsh and disagreeable manner, he had a certain slangy and sneering way of addressing his patients that was perfectly shocking. Amusing himself the while at their expense, by suggesting the various unhappy and miserable consequences that might follow on their illness, he appeared to take a diabolical pleasure in the terror he was capable of eliciting. There was something almost amusing in the infernal ingenuity he had acquired in this species of torture. There was no stage of your illness, no phase of your constitution, no character or condition of your malady, that was not the immediate forerunner of one or more afflicting calamities. Were you getting weaker, it was the way they always died out; did you gain strength, it was a rally before death; were you despondent, it was the best for you to know your state; were you sanguine, he would rebuke your good spirits and suggest the propriety of a priest. However, with all these qualifications people put up with him; and as he had a certain kind of rude skill, and never stuck at a bold method, he obtained the best practice of the country and a widespread reputation.

'Well,' said Father Tom, in a low voice—'well, Doctor, what do you think of him this evening?'

'What do I think of him? Just what I thought before—congestion of the membranes. This is the low stage he is in now; I wouldn't be surprised if he'd get a little better in a few days, and then go off like the rest of them.'

'Go off! eh? Now you don't mean——'

'Don't I? Maybe not. The ould story—coma, convulsions, and death.'

'Damn the fellow!' said the Major, in a muttered voice, 'I feel as if I was in a well. But I say, Doctor, what are we to do?'

'Anything you plase. They say his family is mighty respectable, and have plenty of money. I hope so; for here am I coming three times a day, and maybe when he dies it will be a mourning ring they'll be sending me instead of my fee. He was a dissipated chap I am sure: look at the circles under his eyes!'

'Ay, ay,' said the priest, 'but they only came since his illness.'

'So much the worse,' added the invincible Doctor; 'that's always a symptom that the base of the brain is attacked.'

'And what happens then?' said the Major.

'Oh, he might recover. I knew a man once get over it, and he is alive now, and in Swift's Hospital.'

'Mad?' said the priest.

'Mad as a March hare,' grinned the Doctor; 'he thinks himself the post-office clock, and chimes all the hours and half-hours day and night.'

'The heavens be about us!' said Father Tom, crossing himself piously. 'I had rather be dead than that.'

'When did you see Burke?' inquired the Major, wishing to change the conversation.

'About an hour ago; he is going fast.'

'Why, I thought he was better,' said Father Tom; 'they told me he ate a bit of chicken, and took a little wine and water.'

'Ay, so he did; I bid them give him whatever he liked, as his time was so short. So, after all, maybe it is as well for this young chap here not to get over it.'

'How so?' said the Major. 'What do you mean by that?'

'Just that it is as good to die of a brain fever as be hanged; and it won't shock the family.'

'I 'd break his neck,' muttered Bob Mahon, 'if there was another doctor within forty miles.'

Of all his patients, Tipperary Joe was the only one of whom the Doctor spoke without disparagement. Whether that the poor fellow's indifference to his powers of terrorising had awed or conciliated him, I know not; but he expressed himself favourably regarding his case, and his prospects of recovery.

'Them chaps always recover,' drawled out the Doctor in a dolorous cadence.

'Is it true,' said the Major, with a malicious grin—'is it true that he changed all the splints and bandages to the sound leg, and that you didn't discover the mistake for a week afterwards? Mary Doolan told me.'

'Mrs. Doolan,' said the Doctor, 'ought to be thinking of her own misfortunes; and with an acute inflammation of the pericardium, she might be making her sowl.'

'She ill?—that fine, fat, comfortable-looking woman!'

'Ay, just so; they're always fat, and have a sleepy look about the eyes, just like yourself. Do you ever bleed at the nose?'

'Never without a blow on it. Come, come, I know you well, Doctor; you shall not terrify me.'

'You're right not to fret; for it will take you off suddenly, with a giddiness in your head, and a rolling in your eyes, and a choking feeling about your throat——'

'Stop, and be d——d to you!' said the Major, as he cleared his voice a couple of times, and loosed the tie of his cravat. 'This room is oppressively hot.'

'I protest to God,' said Father Tom, 'my heart is in my mouth, and there isn't a bone in my body that's not aching.'

'I don't wonder,' chimed in the Doctor; 'you are another of them, and you are a surprising man to go on so long. Sure, it is two years ago I warned your niece that when she saw you fall down she must open a vein in your neck, if it was only with a carving-knife.'

'The saints in heaven forbid!' said the priest, cutting the sign of the cross in the air; 'it's maybe the jugular she'd cut!'

'No,' drawled out the Doctor, 'she needn't go so deep; and if her hand doesn't shake, there won't be much danger. Good-evening to you both.'

So saying, with his knees bent, and his hands crossed under the skirts of his coat, he sneaked out of the room; while the others, overcome, with fear, shame, and dismay, sat silently, looking misery itself, at each side of the table.

'That fellow would kill a regiment,' said the Major at length. 'Come, Tom, let's have a little punch; I 've a kind of a trembling over me.'

'Not a drop of anything stronger than water will cross my lips this blessed night. Do you know, Bob, I think this place doesn't agree with me? I wish I was back in Murranakilty: the mountain air, and regular habits of life, that's the thing for me.'

'We are none of us abstemious enough,' said the Major; 'and then we bachelors—to be sure you have your niece.'

'Whisht!' said the priest, 'how do you know who is listening? I vow to God I am quite alarmed at his telling that to Mary; some night or other, if I take a little too much, she'll maybe try her anatomy upon me!'

This unhappy reflection seemed to weigh upon the good priest's mind, and set him a-mumbling certain Latin offices between his teeth for a quarter of an hour.

'I wish,' said the Major, 'Hinton was able to read his letters, for here is a whole bundle of them—some from England, some from the Castle, and some marked “On His Majesty's service.”'

'I'll wait another week anyhow for him,' said the priest. 'To go back to Dublin in the state he is now would be the ruin of him, after the shake he has got. The dissipation, the dining-out, and all the devilment would destroy him entirely; but a few weeks' peace and quietness up at Murranakilty will make him as sound as a bell.'

'You are right, Tom, you are right,' said the Major; 'the poor fellow mustn't be lost for the want of a little care; and now that Dillon has gone, there is no one here to look after him. Let us go down and see if the post is in; I think a walk would do us good.'

Assenting to this proposition, the priest bent over me mournfully for a moment, shook his head, and having muttered a blessing, walked out of the room with the Major, leaving me in silence to think over all I had overheard.

Whether it was that youth suggested the hope, or that I more quickly imbibed an appreciation of the Doctor's character from being the looker-on at the game, I am not exactly sure; but certainly I felt little depressed by his gloomy forebodings respecting me, and greatly lightened at my heart by the good news of poor Tipperary Joe.

Of all the circumstances which attended my illness, the one that most impressed me was the warm, affectionate solicitude of my two friends, the priest and his cousin. There was something of kindness and good feeling in their care of me that spoke rather of a long friendship than of the weaker ties of chance and passing acquaintance. Again I thought of home; and while I asked myself if the events which beset my path in Ireland could possibly have happened to me there, I could not but acknowledge that if they had so, I could scarcely have hoped to suddenly conjure up such faithful and benevolent friends, with no other claim, nor other recommendation, save that of being a stranger.

The casual observation concerning my letters had, by stimulating my curiosity, awakened my dormant energy; and by a great effort I stretched out my hand to the little bell beside my bed, and rang it. The summons was answered by the barelegged girl who acted as waiter in the inn. When she had sufficiently recovered from her astonishment to comprehend my request, I persuaded her to place a candle beside me; and having given me the packet of letters that lay on the chimney-piece, I desired her on no account to admit any one, but say that I had fallen into a sound sleep, and should not be disturbed.