The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes Read online

  THE FORTUNE-TELLER.

  "Show his eyes, and grieve his heart, Come like shadows so depart."

  SHAKSPEARE.

  The insatiable desire to penetrate the dark veil of futurity, whichpervades all classes, from the highest to the lowest, renders theoccupation of the _Fortune-Teller_ one of considerable profit. In nopart of the world are there so many professors of the _art_, as inIreland. The most insignificant village has its cunning person, of onesex or the other, whose province generally is to cure bewitched cattle,be well acquainted with all the scandalous gossip of the vicinity, andgive advice and assistance in all delicate and difficult affairs of theheart; added to which, in some instances, a "_trifle of smugglin'_,"and in all, the vending of interdicted drink: _Potieen_, that had neverseen the ill-looking face of a gauger; a kind of liquid fire you mightweaken with aquafortis, that would scrape the throat of an unaccustomeddrinker as if he had swallowed a coarse file, but which our seasonedtipplers "_toss off_," glass after glass, without a grin, theirindurated palates receiving it like so much water.

  The class of individuals who take up, or are instructed in themysteries of Fortune-telling, combine rather antagonistic elements.They are generally the shrewdest, cunningest, cleverest, laziest peopleyou can find. Studying, and understanding to a charm, the mostassailable points of human nature, they obtain from their applicants,by circuitous questioning, the precise nature of their expectations;then dexterously "_crossing the scent_," with an entirely differentsubject, astonish them at last by expounding their very thoughts. Norare the old-established mysteries, the appliances and incantationsomitted, although they necessarily must be of a simple and curiousnature; the great oracle, the cards, is brought into requisition on alloccasions, varied by a mystic examination of tea-grounds, melted lead,and indeed, sometimes in imitation of the ancient soothsayer, _facilisdescensus_, by the sacrifice of some poor old cat.

  Bridget Fallow, or _Biddy na Dhioul_, as she was most commonlydesignated, was an extraordinary specimen of the genus. Many aheart-breaking was averted through her agency, and numberless thestrange doings ascribed to her powers of witchcraft. The love-stricken_"from all parts of the country round,"_ a comprehensive Irish phrase,signifying a circuit of some twelve or fourteen miles, consulted ouldBiddy, daily. Immense was her mystic reputation, and very many the_"fippenny bits,"_ the smallest piece of coin that could be obtained to_"cross her hand,"_ did she sweep into her greasy pocket, from thecredulous of either sex.

  It would be difficult to describe accurately the temple of thisparticular dispenser of fortune. Bent nearly double, partly from age,and partly to give greater effect to her divinations (for the older awitch appears, the more credit is given to her skill), she sat, orrather crouched in a small, dimly-lighted room, surrounded by somedozen cats, of all ages and complexions, from playful kittendom tograve and reverend cat-hood; black, white, pie-ball'd, skew-ball'd,foxy, tortoise-shell, and tab. Now, those companions of Biddy's wereheld in especial horror by her visitors, who firmly believed them to befamiliar demons, attendant on her will. But never were animals solibelled, for they were in truth, as frolicsome and mundane specimensof the feline, as ever ran after a ball of worsted. Biddy was fond ofher cats, and though naturalists doubt the sincerity of cat-love, theycertainly appeared to be greatly attached to her; night and day didthose three generations of puss gambol about her; perhaps, indicatingtheir preference for still life, they looked upon Biddy, as, in rigidmobility, she sat motionless and silent, inly enjoying their pranks, asmerely a portion of the furniture, and so had as much right to jump onher shoulder, and hunt each other's tail, over and about her as uponanything else in the room. Certain it is they did not respect her awhit more than an old table, and Biddy, delighted with suchfamiliarity, put no restraint on their impertinence. A dingy curtain,reaching half-way across the room, concealed a large, rudely-finishedmirror-frame, which Biddy found extremely useful on several occasions.There were none of the awe-compelling accessories of the magic art, noalligator stuffed, no hissing cauldron, no expensive globes; nothing,save an old black-letter folio, Biddy's universal book of reference,and a terribly dirty pack of cards, the marks nearly effaced fromconstant use, being the second, which, in a long life offortune-telling, she had ever consulted. Adapting her mode ofoperations to the wish of her applicant, Biddy had various ways ofpenetrating the clouds of futurity, enumerating them to the curiousvisitor as follows: "Wirra, thin, it's welcome that yez are to ouldBiddy na Dhioul; may you niver know sickness, sorrow, poverty, ordisthress. It's myself that can tell yer fortune, whativer it is. I cantell it be the stars, or the cards, be the tay-grounds, coffee-grounds,meltid lead, or baccy-ashes; be signs, an' moles, an' dhrames; be thewitch's glass, or be yer own good-lookin' hand."

  The great secret of Biddy's success was, that all her auguries presaged_some_ amount of good, and it was observed that the larger the piece ofsilver with which her hand was crossed, the more extensive was thefortune predicted. A "_fippenny-bit_," might produce a "_smart boy fora husband_," but "_half a crown_" would insure a "_jaunting car_," or,hint obliquely at "_the young masther_," give mysterious foreshadowingsof "_silken gounds_," and an "_iligant family of childher_." A cute oldsoul was Biddy, and extensive the knowledge experience had given her ofthe pregnable points of general character. Why should we not give her acall?

  I'll just tell you a few secrets, known only to two or threeindividuals besides myself, and as some of them will be very likely toneed Biddy's assistance, we shall unceremoniously accompany them ontheir visit.

  It is Sunday; mass is just over; the sober gravity of the morning (forno people are more earnest in the performance of their religious dutiesduring the time so allotted, than are the Irish peasantry), isbeginning to change to a general aspect of enjoyment. The girls intheir neat, clean dresses, are tripping along homeward; and many abonnet and shawl, or calico dress, is descanted upon, praised orcensured according to the opinion of the speaker, for the universalduty of the feminine chapel or church-goer, is to criticise atintervals the dresses of her neighbors.

  "Athin, Mary," says one, "_did_ you ever see such a pattern of a goundas _Miss_ Machree had on her back this blessed day; if it hadn't asmany colors in it as would make nigh hand half a dozen rainbows, I hopeI may turn into a _nagur_. I declare to my goodness, I wouldn't give myould washed-out gound for two of the likes of it."

  Wouldn't she?

  "True for you, Nell," replies another, "an' did you remark _purty_Norah, as the boys call her? Purty, indeed! it wouldn't take blindBarty, the piper, a month of Sundays to see all the purty there isabout her. _I_ wouldn't be seen with such a nose on _my_ face; an'she comin' over us wid the pride of a sthraw bonnet, this beautifulsummer's day; the hood of an ould grey cloak was good enough for themother before her, to wear. It isn't disgracin' my mother's memory I'dbe, by puttin' sthraw bonnets on my head."

  "Well, it is a shame; do you know what I've heerd?"

  "What?"

  "Why, neither more nor less than that _purty_ Miss Norah is setting hersthraw bonnet at Pat Kinchela."

  "No!"

  "It's the heaven's truth; didn't I see her to day, lookin' at himdhreadful? _I_ wouldn't look at a man the way she did, no, not ifhe was made of goold."

  "Whist! Nelly; look yondher! if there isn't Pat, see and that consatedminx walkin' _arm-in-arm_; bless your sowl, there's quality manners forye. I wonder, for my part, the road doesn't open and swally suchimpidence right up; now just obsarve them, sthruttin' along as ifeverybody else was the dirt undher their feet. Well, if that isn'towdaciousness, I wish somebody would tell me what is."

  But, inasmuch as our story has more to do with Pat and Norah than withthose chattering specimens of a rather numerous class, we'll attend to_them_, and let the others go about their business--of detraction.

  Pat has just hazarded an important question, as would appear from thesudden and more brilliant flush that spread over pretty Norah's cheek,than from any significancy in her reply, which was si
mply:

  "You're mighty impident to-day, Mr. Kinchela."

  "Athin, Norieen, jewel," answered Pat, "if it comes to the rights ofthe thing, how the divil can I help it? Sure an' haven't you kept medanglin' afther you for nigh hand a twel'month, an' it's neither yisnor no, that I can squeeze out of your purty little mouth."

  "Ah, indeed!" said Norah, with the shadow of a pout that might havebeen simulated, "then I suppose you'd be satisfied whichever it was."

  "Faix, yis would be satisfactory enough," replied Pat, who did hiswooing in rather a careless manner, philosophically.

  "And if it happened to be no?"

  "Why, thin, I suppose I'd have to put up wid that for the want of abetther."

  "An' try your luck somewhere else, may-be?" continued Norah, with adash of lemon.

  "An' why not?" answered Pat, with apparent carelessness. "If youcouldn't ketch a throut in one place, you wouldn't come back wid anempty basket, would you? unless, may-be, you had no particular appetitefor fish."

  "Then, sir, you have my permission to bait your hook as soon as youlike, for I have no idea of nibblin'," said Norah, letting go Pat'sarm, and walking _very_ fast--not so fast, though, but that ourcavalier friend could keep up with her, flinging in occasional morselsof aggravation.

  "Now, don't be foolish, Norah; you're only tellin' on yourself. Theboys will see that we've had a tiff, and the girls will be sure to sayyou're _jealous_."

  "Jealous, indeed! I must _love_ you first, Mr. Impidence."

  "So you do."

  "I ain't such a fool, _sir_."

  "Yes, you are, _ma'am_; an' what's more nor that, you can't help it,_ma'am_."

  "Can't I?"

  "Not a bit of it. You've caught the sickness, an' it's the goolden ringthat'll cure you, an' nothin' besides."

  "It isn't you that'll be docthor, anyway."

  "The divil a one else."

  "High hangin' to all liars."

  "I'd say that, too, only I wouldn't like to lose you, Norah, aftherall. Come now, darlin'," he went on, varying his tactics, "don't let usquarrel on this blessed day; let us make it up _acush_; take a howld ofmy arm, this right arm, that would work itself up to the elbow to doyou any sarvice, or smash into small pitatys the blaggard that offeredyou the ghost of an offince."

  This blarney-flavored speech had some effect upon Norah, yet sheconcealed it like--a woman, sinking it down into her heart, and callingup a vast amount of anger to overwhelm it. Is it at all astonishingthat the latter flew away in words, while the former nestled there forever? Poor, foolish little Norah, her real feeling concealed by thecloud of temper she had raised, thought at that moment there was not amore unlovable being in existence than Pat, and what's more, she saidso.

  "Mr. Kinchela," said she, in her iciest manner, "I'm obleeged to youfor your company, such as it is, but here is Cousin Pether, an' youneedn't throuble yerself, or be wearin out shoe-leather any more comin'afther me."

  "Norah!" said Pat, suddenly stricken into gravity, "are you inairnest?"

  "I wish you the best of good mornin's, sir;" and taking Cousin Peter'sarm, with a provoking smile on her lip, and triumph in her eye, offwent Norah, leaving Pat gazing after her, looking rather the reverse ofwise--once only did she turn as she passed the corner of the street,but that simple circumstance rekindled hope within Pat's soul.

  As he was thus standing, utterly unconscious of the observation heattracted, he was suddenly accosted by his best friend, Jim Dermot.

  "Why, tear an' nounthers," said Jim, "is it ketchin' flies, orfairy-sthruck, or dead all out you are, Pat, avic? why, you look thepicther of misfortune, hung in a black frame."

  "Hollo, Jim, is that you?" cried Pat, waking out of his reverie,"wasn't that too bad intirely?"

  "So it was--what was it?" replied Jim.

  "Why, to lave me stuck here like a post, and to go off wid that_omadhaun_ Pether."

  "Well, it was quare, sure enough," replied Jim, without the slightestidea what Pat was driving at, yet hoping to arrive at it better from anapparent knowledge than by downright questioning. "To run off," hecontinued, "an' wid Pether, of all fellows in the world;" adding tohimself, "I wondher who the divil Pether is, and where he's run to?"

  "I didn't think she could sarve me so," said Pat.

  "Oh! it's a she that's in it, is it?" thought Jim, saying, with a sageshake of the head, "I nivir would have b'lieved it of her myself; butwimin _is_ conthrary divils, an' that's the truth. When did she go,Pat?"

  "Why, now, this very minute."

  "You don't say? well, an' what do you mane to do?"

  "Do? why, nothing; what would you do?"

  "Well, I believe I'd do _that same_, Pat, an' nothin' else."

  "It isn't very likely that I'll let her know how much her conduct hashurt me."

  "It might make her consated."

  "She's a shameless jilt."

  "That she is, as sure as her name is----what it is," said Jim, hopingPat would fill up the pause.

  "What would you advise me to do, Jim?" inquired Pat.

  "Well, I don't know," replied the other, "it's a mighty delicate pointto give a man advice upon; but if you'd be ruled by me you'd go an' axould Biddy na Dhioul."

  "By gorra, but you're right there," said Pat, "I wondher I didn't thinkof that afore."

  "It isn't too late."

  "True for you; an' it's there I'll go this blessed minute. I'd ratherknow my fate at onst, than be kep' like a mouse in a thrap, wondheringwhether the cat'll play wid me, or ate me in the mornin'."

  "So, it is thrapped you are, Pat, is it? arrah, how did you managethat?"

  "Faix, an' I walked into it wid my eyes open, like any other omadhounof a mouse."

  "Bedad, it takes a sinsible mouse to walk away from the smell ofcheese, anyway, Pat."

  "That's a fact, Jim, but I must be off to ould Biddy's: I'll get mymind _aised_ one way or the other, wid a blessin' afore I sleep."

  "Good luck attend you," said Jim, sorely mortified that with all hiscunning, he couldn't get at the rights of the matter.

  Pat made the best of his way to Biddy's cabin, truly in a miserablestate of mind: this, the first obstacle to his love, had so increasedits strength and intensity. After he had knocked once or twice the dooropened, and he found Biddy in her usual position, surrounded by herusual play-mates.

  "God save you, Biddy," said he, taking a seat, and brushing theperspiration from his brow, "you're a knowledgeable woman, an' can tellme what I want to know."

  "In coorse, I can, Mr. Pat Kinchela, whativer it is; not that I pretindto tell anything but what the iligant stars prognostify," repliedBiddy, gravely referring to her miraculous volume, not that she had theslightest occasion to employ her shrewd plan of pumping this time; sheknew all about it.

  "The saints be good to us, Pat, darlin'," she suddenly exclaimed, "buthere's a bitther disappointment for some one."

  "Not for me, Biddy; don't say for me," cried Pat, "here, take this, an'this, pouring out all the copper, very thinly intersected with silver,which he had about him, into her apron; now, give us a good fortune ifyou can; long life to you."

  "I didn't say it was for you, did I? just howld your whist, an' let thestars work without bein' hindhered, for they're mighty fractious nowand thin," said Biddy, mumbling some unintelligible expressions andslily counting the while the extent of Pat's donation. The result wassatisfactory.

  "Pat, jewel," she said, "howld up your head, for there's money bid foryou--you'll be a thremendious rich man yet."

  "Oh! I don't care for that," he interrupted, "tell me of"----

  "Norah Malone," quietly interrupted Biddy.

  Pat was wonder-stricken, he gasped for breath.

  "It's thrue, then, that you do know everything, Biddy."

  "A'most everything," replied the old crone.

  "Then, it's no use in my telling you," continued Pat, "how everylife-dhrop of my heart was devoted to that same girl, how every wakin'thought, an' every sleepin' dhrame was fille
d up with her; now I'velost her, and the sunshine of my life is gone with her for ever."

  "I know it all."

  "But what--what am I to do? tell me, or I shall go mad."

  "Thry your luck somewhere else."

  "Pshaw! I might as well thry to stop the tide with a pitchfork."

  "You do really love her, then?"

  "Love her! Why do you ask? Do you doubt it?"

  "I do."

  "That shows how much you know, and now I doubt your power to tell anyone's thoughts, since you can't tell mine."

  "Oh, yes, but I can, if you want me to prove it, I'll tell you whoyou're thinking of at this moment."

  "Do, and I'll believe anything."

  "_Cousin Pether!_"

  Pat fairly started from his seat; large drops suddenly gathered on hisbrow; he was frightened.

  Biddy, seeing her advantage, went on: "You're a purty fellow, to callmy power in question. I've a great mind to make you feel it in airnest.Will I go on or not?"

  "Go on; anything," said Pat; "I'll say no more."

  Biddy then shuffled the dirty pack of cards, cut and set them out inher lap, saying, as she proceeded: "Bad--nothing but bad luck. There,that queen of clubs is your sweetheart, and that knave of hearts mustbe Cousin Pether; he's rather carroty-headed."

  Pat groaned.

  "Here's a wedding," Biddy went on, "and lots of money, to who? Let mesee: if it isn't to that knave of hearts again."

  "Curse the knave of hearts," cried Pat, starting up, "I have had enoughof this. I do believe you've been playin' wid me all this time.Good-bye"----

  "Stay one minute; you think I've been playing with you, eh?" said theold witch, rising, and speaking in a mysteriously solemn tone of voice,"Young man, have you strength of mind enough to look upon the magicglass, and have your _eyes_ convinced?"

  "What mean you?" exclaimed Pat.

  "To show you what you least wish to see--Norah and her cousin in eachother's arms."

  "Impossible; you're juggling with me now; you cannot show me that."

  "_Look!_" screamed old Biddy, tearing back the dingy curtain--andthere, sure enough, within the frame of the mirror, locked in eachother's embrace, were _Norah_ and _Peter_.

  The suddenness of the disclosure, combined with the terror of themoment, acting upon a frame rendered weak from apprehension, made theblood rush into the brain of the unfortunate lover, and withoututtering a sound, he fell heavily to the floor in a faint.

  It was some time before he was restored to consciousness, when thefirst form that fell upon his sight was that of the detested Peter. Heshut his eyes in the misery of unavailing rage, but opened them againin astonishment, as a well-known voice whispered in his ear:

  "Dear Pat, it's your own Norah that's beside you."

  Pat's delight was perfectly indescribable, and I shrink from theresponsibility of attempting it; suffice it to say, for the elucidationof our mystery, that Norah and Peter were beforehand with him at oldBiddy's, when, seeing him approach, they hid themselves behind thecurtain. Norah had such a convincing proof of Pat's truthful love, thatshe never quarrelled with him again--at least before they were married:of their further proceedings I frankly confess my ignorance.