The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes Page 7

  CHAPTER VI.

  "Within the circle of your own estate, Confine yourself, nor yearn for brighter fate."

  And now let us return to the cobbler's cabin, and see how matters areprogressing there. Peggy has just brought over the tureen of soup sofervently longed for by the changed Squire; with a cry of joy, for heis very hard set, indeed, he seized the welcome gift, and placing itbetween his knees as he sat on the low workstall, prepared to dive intoits savory contents, but a groan of horror and disappointment brokefrom his lips when, on taking off the cover, he found the tureen wasempty.

  "The pippin-squeezing ruffian," cried he, "he's sent it over without asmuch as a smell, and I so mortial hungry that I could bite a tenpennynail in two; if he was here, bad 'cess to me if I wouldn't smash thisupon his head."

  "That's mighty strange, entirely," said Peggy, "for I'll be on me oaththere was plenty in it when I took it off the Squire's sideboard."

  "If there was, you must have gobbled it up yourself, or spilt it on thestreet, you unconsiderate faymale," said Bulworthy.

  "Is it me, indeed, Dan, jewel? it's well you know that if it was goold,an' you could ate it, I wouldn't put a tooth into it, when I knew youwanted it so dhreadful," replied Peggy, reproachfully.

  "Well, may-be you wouldn't," doggedly observed Bulworthy; "but do, forHeaven's sake, get me somethin' to put an end to the wobblin' that'sgoin' on in the inside of me; may I never leave this place alive if Ithink I've had a male's vitells for a month."

  "How outrageous you are, Dan," sorrowfully replied the other. "Where amI to get it?"

  "Go out an' buy it, ov coorse."

  "Arrah what with? I'd like to know; sure, an' won't we have to waituntil that purse-proud ould rap over the way pays us the shillin' thathe owes us."

  A reproachful pang shot through the heart of Bulworthy at thatobservation. "The ould skinflint," said he, "if I ever get near himagain, may-be I won't touch him up for not doin' that same."

  "Indeed, an' it would sarve him right," Peggy went on. "Swimmin' inplenty as he is, it's little that he thinks of the pinchin' hunger wefeel."

  "Don't don't," cried Bulworthy, pressing his hands against hisgastronomic regions. "I feel it now, fairly sthranglin' me; it's justas if some wild savage beast was runnin' up and down here, sarchin' forsomethin' to devour, and not bein' able to find it, is takin' mouthfulsout of my intayrior by the way of a relish; oh! murdher, I never knewwhat hunger was before."

  "Didn't you, raylly?" Peggy replied, with a queer expression. "Faith,then, it wasn't for the want of chances enough."

  "I mean--don't bother--it's famished I am, and crazy a'most; is there adhrop of dhrink in the house?"

  "Not as much as would make a tear for a fly's eye," said Peg.

  "No! then what the Puck are we to do?"

  "Bear it, I suppose, as well as we can; we've often done it afore, an'what's worse, will have to do it agin, unless the hearts of the richchanges towards us."

  "Oh! if ever I get back to myself again," muttered the hungry Squire."Peg, darlin', go over to the old schamer, an' tell him that av hedoesn't send me the shillin' I'll expose him, I know more about himthan he thinks for; if he's black conthrary, you might just whisper inhis lug that I'm up to his thricks when he was in the grocery line; axhim for me, who shoved the pennies into the butther, wathered thewhisky, and sanded the shugar, who"----

  "Why, for gracious sake, Dan, where did you pick up all thatknowledgeableness?" interrupted Peggy.

  "Hem! no matther--never you mind--may-be I only dhreamt it," repliedBulworthy, with some hesitation. "I don't know exactly what I wastalkin' about; it's the imptyness that's speakin', so I wouldn'tmention it; only go and get somethin' somewhere, av it was only abrick."

  "I'll be at him again, Dan, sence you wish it; but it's little bloodI'm thinking, we'll be able to squeeze out of his turnip of a heart,"said Peggy, putting on her shawl and bonnet, to make the thanklessattempt. As she was going out of the door, however, she saw the Squirehobbling across the street.

  "Talk of the--what's his name--May I never, but here the ould reprobatecomes, hoppin' gingerly over the stones, like a hen walkin' on a hotgriddle. May the saints soften him all over, an' make his heart astendher as his toes this blessed day. I'll lave you wid him, Dan,darlin', for I'm not over partial to his company. So I'll take thebabby out for a blast o' fresh air while yez are convarsin'."

  Peggy's preparations for her promenade were quickly made, whichresulted in her leaving the place before the gouty visitor hadaccomplished his short but painful transit from house to house.

  "A pretty thing _I've_ done for myself," groaned Bulworthy, sufferingalike from thirst, hunger, and cold, as he vainly strove, by slappinghis hands against his chest, to make the blood circulate warmly throughhis finger-ends. "Ov coorse that cobblin' scoundrel will never consentto come back to his starvation and poverty--he'd be a greater fool eventhan I was if he did. Ah! if I ever do get back to a good dinner again,there shan't be a poor devil within a mile of me that'll ever want onewhile I live. Here comes the cripple; the only chance I have is topretend that I'm in a sort of second-hand paradise here." So saying, hecommenced to sing, in a voice of exaggerated jollity, a verse of

  "The jug o' punch,"

  accompanying the tune by vigorous whacks of his hammer upon the pieceof sole-leather he was beating into the requisite toughness.

  The united sounds of merriment and industry smote upon Dan's heart likea knell.

  "Listen at the happy ragamuffin, working away like a whole hive o'bees, and chirpin' like a pet canary-bird," said he to himself. "Oh,it's aisy seen he won't want to renew his acquaintance wid thismurdherin' gout an' the useless money--but, hit or miss, it won't do tolet him see me down in the mouth."

  So, putting on a careless swagger, and forcing a tone of joyousnessinto his voice:

  "Hallo, cobbler," he cried, "there you are, bellusin' away like abagpiper. What an iligant thing it is to see such poor wretcheswhistlin' themselves into an imitation of comfort."

  "How do you know but I'm crammed full of real comfort, bad luck to yermockin' tongue?" said Bulworthy, disgusted at the other's satisfieddemeanor.

  "It's pleased I am to see your foggy moon of a face, anyway," he wenton. "Where's me shillin'?"

  "Why, you poor, miserable attenuation of humanity, how dare you addressyourself to me in that orthodox manner?" observed Dan, with anambitious attempt at Bulworthy's magniloquence.

  "Miserable, eh?" replied the other, with a chirp. "Is it me miserable,wid such a home as this?"

  "It's all over," thought Dan, "the ould brute's as happy as a bird. Badluck to the minute that my own pelt made a cage for him."

  "Go home," Bulworthy continued, with a grin. "Home to yer wretchedhospital of a gazebo."

  "Wretched!" retorted Dan, "you wouldn't call it wretched if you saw thedinner I had to-day; enough, yer sowl to glory, to satisfy half a dozenfamilies."

  "That were starvin' around you," cried Bulworthy, with a severeinternal spasm, induced by the mention of the dinner.

  "Aha! you're beginnin' to think of that now, are you?" said Dan,tauntingly. "How do you like dinin' on spoonfuls of air, and rich men'spromises to pay? Bedad, I'm thinkin I have the best of you there."

  "Hould yer prate, you ould Turk, an' give me me shillin'," roaredBulworthy, getting impatient.

  "The divil a shillin' you get out o' me, that I can tell you. I've gotthe upper hand of ye this time, an' I'll keep it. It's hungry enoughthat you've seen me before now, an' tit for tat's fair play all theworld over."

  "He's content and comfortable, there's no mistake about that," thoughtBulworthy, "and I'm booked for starvation all the rest of my miserabledays."

  "Gout's my lot; I can see that with half an eye," said Dan to himself."The ould blaggard will never consent to get into these legs again."

  "Squire!" cried the cobbler, suddenly, "do you know that the hungersometimes puts desperate thoughts into a man's head? You owe me ashillin'. I wa
nt something to ate. Are you goin' to give it to me?"

  "Supposin' I didn't?" said Dan, coolly.

  "Bad luck attind me if I don't shake it out o' you, you iron-heartedould Craysus," replied the other, doggedly.

  "I'd like to see you thryin' that," said Dan, flourishing a hugeblackthorn stick dangerously. "You're wake wid the want, an' I'msthrong wid vittles an' wine. It's aisy to foretell whose head would becracked first."

  "Oh, murdher, Squire, jewel, it's right that you are, for I _am_just as wake as wather itself, an' the jaws of me is fairly rustin' intheir sockets for the want of dacent exercise," cried the now subduedBulworthy. "For the tindher mercy of goodness, then, av you've got thelaste taste ov compassion in yer throat, give us a thrifle, av it wasonly the price ov a salt herrin' or a rasher o' bakin'."

  "Oh, ho! it's there you are," thought Dan, as, rendered more hopeful bythis injudicious outburst, he assumed a still more severe aspect.

  "It's good for you to feel that way," said he, "an' it's mighty littleelse you can ever expect while you're throublin' the earth, youimpidint cobbler. Look at me, you ungrateful thief o' the world--what'sall your hungry nibblin's compared wid the sharp tooth that'sperpetually gnawin' at my exthremities? To be sure, the jingle of thegoold here in my pockets, keeps the pain undher considherably."

  "I know it, I know it," groaned Bulworthy. "Oh, av there was only amarket for fools, wouldn't I fetch a high price?"

  "Purvided that it wasn't overstocked," said Dan, with a mentaladdition, which he wisely kept to himself, as, suppressing the violentpain he was suffering, he burst into a merry laugh at the dolefulappearance of his companion in distress. "Cheer up, man alive," criedhe, through his enforced joyousness; "take example by your neighbors,and content yourself wid your condition. I'm sure it's a mightyagreeable one. See how comfortable I am, an' there's no knowin' what anumberless conglomeration of annoyances men in my responsible stationhave to put up wid."

  "Why, then it's aisy for you to chat," replied Bulworthy, bitterly,"wid your belly full of prog, rattlin' yer money in yer pockets, andgreggin' a poor empty Christian wid the chink; but av you had onlydined wid me to-day, you wouldn't be so bumptious, I'll be bound."

  "Me dine wid you, is it? bedad, an' that's a good joke," said Dan, withanother explosion of laughter. "Ho, ho! my fine fella, av jokes wasonly nourishin', what a fine feed of fun you might have, to be sure."

  "Oh, then, by the king of Agypt's baker, that was hanged for makin' hismajesty's loaf short weight--the divil's cure to him--it's starved I'dbe that way too, for the fun's pinched right out o' me," replied theSquire, in a melancholy tone.

  "Why, you don't mane to be tellin' me that you're unhappy in yerpresent lot?" Dan asked, in the hope of coming to the point at once.

  "Where would be the use in sayin' I'm not?" replied the other,cautiously.

  "Only just for the pleasure of gettin' at the thruth."

  "Bedad, he'd be a wise man that could crack that egg. If it comes tothat, how do you like them legs o' yours? It isn't much dancin' you donow, I'm thinkin'."

  "Well, not a great dale, seein' that it's a foolish sort of exercisefor a man of my consequence," said Dan, shaking the guineas about inhis pockets with increased vigor.

  "An' how do you find the Misthress's timper now, might I ax?" inquiredBulworthy, with a meaning look.

  "Aisy as an ould glove, I'm obliged to you," Dan replied, with wondrousplacidity of countenance.

  "Peg, my Peg's a real blessin' in a house; an' as for that jewel of ababby"----

  "Howld yer decateful tongue, you circumventin' ould tory," cried Dan,shaking his fist in the other's face, rendered almost beside himself bythe allusion to his lost treasures; "do you mind this, you chatin'disciple, av you dare to brag ov havin' any property in them two peopleI'll give your dirty sowl notice to quit the tinimint that it'sinsultin' every second o' time you dhraw a breath."

  "How can you help yerself, I'd like to know?" demanded Bulworthy, in aninsolent tone. "Doesn't Peg belong to me now, an' the child?"

  "Be the mortial o' war, av ye don't stop your tongue from waggin' inthat way, bad luck to me av I don't take ye be the scruff o' the neck,an shake ye out o' me skin, you robber," shouted Dan, still morefuriously--unfortunately losing sight of his discretion in theblindness of his rage, for Bulworthy, thinking he saw a gleaming ofhope, determined to pursue his advantage; so he continued:

  "The devil a toe will you ever come near them again, my fine fella.Possession's nine points of the law; an' as it's your own countenancethat I'm carryin', you can't swear me out o' my position. More betoken,there's no use in yer gettin' obsthropulous, for I've only to dhrop thelapstone gingerly upon yer toes, to make you yell out like a stuckpig."

  At hearing these conclusive words, Dan's policy and his philosophy fledtogether, and he poured forth the feelings of his heart withoutconcealment or restraint.

  "You murdherin' ould vagabone," he cried; "you've got the upper hand ofme, an' full well you know it; the divil take yer dirty money, that'sweighin' down my pockets; but weighin' my heart down more nor that, avit wasn't that I don't know exactly what harum I'd be doin' to meself;may I never sin av I wouldn't pelt the life out o' you wid fistfulls ofit; but it sarves me right, it sarves me right," he went on, swayinghis body to and fro, as he sat on the little stool. "Oh! wirra, wirra!what a born natheral I was to swap away my darlin' Peg, that's made outof the best parts of half a dozen angels, for that wizen-faced daughterof ould Nick beyont; an' the blessed babby, too, that's so fresh fromthe skies that the smell o' Heaven sticks about him yet; to get nothin'for him but a pair of legs that can't lift me over a _thranieen_; oh!it's mad that it's dhrivin' me, intirely."

  "Don't take it so much to heart; gruntin', and growlin', an twistin'yerself into a thrue lover's knot, won't do any good now, you know,"said Bulworthy, with a quiet smile.

  "I know it won't, and that's what makes me desperate," replied Dan,starting up, with clenched teeth, and a dangerous glance in his eye.

  "One word for all," he continued, "are you going to give me backmeself?"

  "I'd be a purty fool to do that, accordin' to your own story," said theother, calmly, now tolerably sure of his ground.

  "Then Heaven forgive me, but here goes," cried Dan, resolutely. "Peg,jewel, it's for your sake an' the child; I can't live widout yez,anyhow, an' so I may's well thravel the dark road at oncet."

  "What do you mane, you wild-lookin' savage?" shouted Bulworthy, as hesaw the other advance threateningly towards him.

  "I mane to thry and squeeze the breath out ov you, or get meselfthrottled in the attempt," said Dan, sternly; "I know that I'm no matchfor you now, bad 'cess to your podgey carcass that I'm obleeged tocarry, whether I will or no; come on, you thief o' the world, come on;it doesn't matther a sthraw which of us is sint into kingdom come, onlyit's mighty hard for me to have the since knocked out o' me by me ownmuscles."

  So saying, he put forth all the strength he could muster, and clenchedBulworthy manfully; short, but decisive was the struggle, for thesuperior vigor of the latter, enabled him to shake off Dan like afeather, and when he rushed again to the attack, Bulworthy seized theponderous lapstone, and raising it at arm's length, let its whole forcedescend upon Dan's unprotected head, crushing him down prone andsenseless as though he had been stricken by a thunderbolt.

  It was some time before Dan returned to full consciousness; but when hedid, what was his intense delight to find Peggy bending over him,tenderly bathing a trifling wound in his head.

  "Hurrah, Peg! it is back I am to myself in airnest," he cried. "Give usa bit of the lookin'-glass, darlin'; oh! the butcherin' ruffian, what acrack he gev me on me skull."

  "Whisht, don't talk, Dan, acush," said Peggy, in a low, musical voice;"shure, its ravin' you've been, terrible; oh! that whisky, thatwhisky!"

  A sudden thought flashed across Dan's mind, which he judiciously keptto himself; and, inasmuch, as the reader may, without much exercise ofingenuity imagine what that thought was,
the narrator will be silent,also.

  It will be no abuse of confidence, however, to say that the lesson Danreceived, did him good, for he never was known to repine at his lot,but, redoubling his exertions, was enabled, after a few years hadelapsed, to sport his top-boots on Sundays, and Peggy to exhibit hersilk "gound," as well as the purse-proud Squire and his gay madame,over the way.