A TALE OF THE GALTEE MOUNTAINS.

Press, Volume XLIV, Issue 6905, 10 November 1887, Page 2

A TALE OF THE GALTEE MOUNTAINS.

In the early part of the year 1807,1 was travelling on business in the south of Ireland, and one evening found myself in a small town on the borders of the counties of Cork and Tipperary. The country was

just then very unsettled, and the trading classes uneasy, the-wildest rumours being afloat respecting the impending Fenian insurrection. The telegraph wires between Dublin and the south were cut; the insurgent* were iv possession of Cork and Limerick : shiploads of men were on'their way from England and America to aid the rebels —such were some of tho canards that spread alarm through the district in which I then was.

I believed only a small portion of these reports, but enough to make mc uncomfortable : and I determined to return to Englaud at once. There was no vehicle to be obtained, police officials and newspaper correspondents having hired them all; but as my host promised to send on my luggage in a day or two, I did not hesitate to face on foot the distance between my inn and the nearest railway station, which, by a cut across the hills, was, I was assured, only four miles away. I set off, then, on tho morning of, I thiuk, tue sth of March. The sky was overcast, and a keen east wind made my ears and cheeks tingle. The half-clad gossoon who served mc as guide for a part of the way trotted at my side, his hands thrust into his pockets, his neck and bosom bare, his trousers admitting the air by a score of rents. He had quite a budget of intelligence about the ' boys,' as the Fenians were popularly designated, and dwell with pride on the fact that he knew many of them. Were they dangerousi—"O no!" he replied, laughing at the question. '"Tis only polis an' sojers they'd shoot; they won't harm any one else."

With this grain of consolation, I parted from my guide at the foot of the Galtec Mountains, and clin.bcri the narrow pathway which he called a "road." Little round stones slipped and rolled beneath my feet; in some places the path passed by the brink of depths where a fall would certainly be fatal; in others, it crossed the side of steep slopes where it was difficult to maintain an erect position. At length I reached the top, and congratulated myself on having accomplished the most difficult part of my journey.

Far below, the path could be seen winding like a gray thread. As my guide said, I could not miss it. Snow now began to fall, slowly, softly, silently, shutting out the plain, and gradually narrowing my horizon, until I could only see a few yards around mc. The path was soon obliterated, and the ground became slippery. However, feeling sure that I knew the general direction of the road, 1 went forward confidently. But it gradually dawned upon mc that I had lost my way, and I looked anxiously around for some sign of human life.

I wandered on for some time, now plunging into a pit filled with snow, now stumbling over some hidden stone, and at length, when almost exhausted, reached a cabin, where I resolved to seek shelter. Standing near the head of a steep glen, the house rested against the side of a clilT, which sheltered it, while helping to support the wooden roof. Though the cottage was diminutive, it looked clean in its fresh coat of whitewash; and a slender column of smoke suggested warmth and fooJ.

In reply to my knock, a woman of about fifty opened the door and bade mc enter. She was tall, with good features, and an air almost of refinement. Her black cap and dress were fresh and neat; her manner was reserved, though kindly, and the house was as clean as such a dwelling could be. But in the damp earthern floor and walls, in the meagre furniture and the woman's deeply-lined face, there was evidence of poverty and care. I told her my story, and begged permission to rest for a while.

" An' welcome, sir, she said, drawing to 'the fire a rush-bottomed chair and desiring mc to be seated. " I am sorry, sir, that I have little to offer you to ate, but"

I hastened to assure her that I was well supplied; and emptying my haversack on the table showed that dearth of food was not likely to cause mc anxiety. It turned out that I was only three miles from the railway station, to ■which a Rood road led; and my mind beingxelieved on this point, I proceeded to make myself comfortable. We talked of the insurrection; and she was inucli put oub when I spoke of the rebels' defeat as certain.

"Thin you don't think the boys will win, sir?" " Impossible," I exclaimed. " They are madmen to attempt it." , " I suppose you're right, sir," she sighed. " This is the second risin , I've seen—me poor husband was out in '48—an' no good can come of 'am. Poor lads, to throw away their lives so foolishly.—What's that?" she asked suddenly; and seeing her strain her ears, I too listened, and heard a dull tramp and the confused sound of many voices. My hostess sprang up, filled with animation, and hastened to the door, saying : "'Tis some o , the boys !"

About a score of men were scaling the height before the cabin; and when they neared the woman, she addressed them in Irish: "Howgoes the cause?"

" Badly, niissus," one of the foremost replied. " The game is up, an' I daresay the sojers is at our heels."

The party advanced etragglingly, and entered the house without ceremony. All appeared to be of the humbler classes— email farmers, labourers, artisans—and were miserably armed. There were a few revolvers and rifles among them ; but old muskets, swords, even scythes tied to staffs formed the bulk of their weapons. Their leader wore a red sash and swordbelt outside a green uniform, and above bis hat a large plume waved. He was a handsome soldier-like man, and seemed worthy of a better command. In the rear, one of their number was borne on hurdles.

When the men saw mc they stopped, and questioned the hostess suspiciously. A few words sufficed to satisfy them, and they proceeded to make themselves at home. Aheap of peat that stood beside the hearth was thrown upon the fire, and a bright blaze soon danced in the chimney and lit up the forms of the men, who, crowded as closely as possible, sat or lay around the fire. The woman of the house was activity itself. She filled a large pot with potatoes, and set them to cook, afterward* spreading on a table her little store of eatables. Then she attended to the person who was injured. He was a low-sized, slender lad of fourteen or fifteen, who now lay on the only bed of which the cottoge boasted. His face was pale, and his feature.? we're distorted in an effort to suppress the cry of agony that rose to his Kpe. The lad's pain arose from a sprained ankle; and when the foot was relieved from the pressure of the boot and wrapped in wet flannel, the boy uttered a sigh of relief.

The majority were a rough wild lot; but I was interested by their chief and by this boy. The former eat apart, his dark handsome face wrapped in gloom, bis hands toying with the knot of his sash, while he looked thoughtfully at the ground. The boy was apparently ignorant of the oaths and jests around him ; eye and ear were on the alert, his glance being fixed on the window, through which he commanded a Tiew of the high ground outside,

I soon found, tfcftt I wee the subject of -conversation between two or three of the ixwrty, oee P* them a tall, burly, black -brewed rtiißim eyeing mc in no friendly manner, "'Wnew may yon be tram, stranger?" he naked, " JLendan," I replied briefly. " I told yea so," he said, turning to his eomredea. "I knew he was a Sassenach,

objectionable. I shall Save™ " U \ «»"» tell where w e v e JLI, 180I 80 \ Hkely-look here, boys »« \ H'» up and throw him into thc J'/'! ing thai then- violence might fatal lengths. I snatched up a one of them had laid aside, and saidtl whoever approached mc would do <wi his own risk. "**»•» The leading ruffian grinned, nud onfeti. pointing a musket, at mc, said- -p 7 down that sword before I say three n« two,' * ' ne > " Lower your weapon, sir!" came life« trumpet-blast from the corner wh ere theit chief sat. Up to that moment he seem«J ignora.nl o£ what passed around but S now stood erect, his eyes tlaehhw i 7 dignautly. "Leave that man alone "h* continued ; " we are not murderers."' "Oh, begorra!" the other " we're all captains now, an' there's no masther here.' He again pointed hisimn at mc, which ha had lor a moment lowered.

"You scoundrel," the leader rejoined " you'll bo in the dock soon, and μ-ill enough to answer for without adding to it the blood of an innocent mau."

The eyes of all were fixed on my assailant. Those, who formerly encourugedhiu" less ruffianly or less daring, fell back on hearing their captain's voice ; but this one appeared quite unmoved. The woman of the house sat in a corner, her apron thrown over her head, in order to shut out the bloody scene that was, she believed, imminent. The lad looked on with dilated eyes, his lips parted, and his breathing almost suspended. I mechanically clutched the sword, and kept my eyes fastened on the trigger of the musket, which the man's linger pressed.

" Put down the sword," he repeated, in a low hoarse voice. " One—tiro"-

I closed my eyes and muttered a prayer. For an instant I hesitated whether to comply or to make a dash for the door. A loud report nearly deafened mc; then was a scream ; and on opening my eyes, I saw my assailant dancing about the room, swearing furiously, and nursing his right hand, from which blood poured. The leader stood looking sternly at his wounded follower; and the sight of a revolver, still smoking, in his hand told mo to whom I owed my life. There was uot a murmur heard, even the ruflian whose murderous designs were frustrated, aftur the first outburst, writhed in silence.

" My good woman," suld the chief calmly, " pei-haps you will be kind enough to give that rascal some old linen and help him to bandage his hand."

While my hostess was engaged on this task, two of the men who had been placed as sentinels rushed in. '• The redcoats are comin , !" they cried. "There's cavalry there, too, an' some o' the boys are runnln' this way."

Inaninstantallwaswildconfusion. With, a cry of alarm my would-be murderer lied, completing the wrapping of his wounded limb while running. Hβ was followed by several others. "Strain the praties I" cried some of those who remained; and before many seconds, the huge pot was taken from the fire, the water drained off, and the half-cooked potatoes divided among the hungry rebels, who them into their pockets and hats, burr^,^ : their hands, and dancing with pain.~..2Yra' chief was the last to leave the house, after committing the boy to the woman's charge. While he diverted himself of hie ■- plnme and sash, and put on a large overcoat that one of his followers had left behind, I thanked him for his timely intervention on my behalf. < • ■■■

" Pray4o not mention it,~he said with a pleasant smile. '' Had I stood by quietly I should have been as great a villain as the other. —Farewell!"

The lad was terribly frightened. "Oh t he sobbed, "if I could only run! But I can't, an , they'll ketch mc an' hang pie." >

My hostess was hardly recovered from the stupor into which she was thrown by my peril, and she now looked around with dull eyes.

"Can we do nothing to save this poor boy ?" I asked. " Why not say he your son?"

" Of coorse, o£ coorse 1" she answered, her face lighting up with intelligence. "Rest aisy, darlin'," Bhe continued; "no wav '11 hurt a hair o , yer head."

I corroborated this, and tJie boy was comforted. " Why did you join those men?" I askat " Mc father was with 'am, sir." " Is he killed ?" I went on. " No, sir; oh, no 1" the lad replied, with a look of alarm; " but we lost wan another." " What's yer name, alaunnaht" Inquired the woman. " Patsy Ryan, ma'am." ' Her face became dark, and she et«t» back from the bud, over which she Jaa been leaning, asking in a cold, hard voice —" Where d'ye come from, good boyr -' "P>om Tulla, ma'am, three n> Ue <>tff other side o' Doneraile," the lad answered, puzzled by the change in her manner. " Is foxy Pud Ryau yer father?" ebe atmost screamed. "Yes, ma'am," was the faltering reply. The woman became frantic. "Cursed brood 1" she shrieked, "h"" brought nothing to mc and mine but »»* fortune! Whelp of a vairabone aesa»¥j an' parjurcd informer, come till I ®* e £ to the polie, an'put ye in a fair way o oe» hanged , !" » She seized the boy by the shoulders,£** before he could resist, dragged him am the bed, and they struggled together tor* moment on the floor. I raised the woman and drew her away, remonstrating » entreating meanwhile. She turned on mc like a fury, -and snatching up aa axe Wβ* stood behind the door, rushed towards nwy wielding the weapon, while bar <!)** flashed and her lips quivered. ( "Don't come between mc aa n»™: vinge !" she cried. " D'ye know vhoW mc husband into crime, a^* B *^ him to the gallows, who broke ff "gj an' ruined mc life t TU Kyan. An , whin I hare hia my power, who'll say I for blood 1-1 followed roe darlin Cork gaol, an , saw him brought out .vm with ropes, an' thin they strangled him w death. An* whin I come home, I mc baby dead from cowld and hanger; a* I knelt down an' prayed that the cf*** all the eainte might attind the vffltn ■» brought the desolation on mo house. *» here's his son, an* ITI follow him to n» gallows too!" .; ««- Exhausted by passion, she droppe*/?;" a chair, still holding the axe, and looxws threateningly on the boy, who &»*«"£ back to bed. and now lay gazing in «££ at the woman. We heard voices oots&J and all three turned towards tfau «»»™ The snow had ceased, the air *»*£ and the eun ahone coldly on robed hills, while an icy through the glen. "Sγ father V er&L boy joyfully. ?^P A group of men were crooeflftl Jock outside the house, and after sla*** 'down the elope. ttWF levelled their guns and fired. Wtt* *£ exception, they (ten turned and ran. » who remained was a tall amewy withasloached hat and a lonjc coat, out»id« which a belt was His hair and whiskers were W^ lß "',*! he had a yeUow, wrinkled, hawWiWFj that was stngularty repulsive. Hβ to watch the efftwfe of hia shofc *"*"

"TZZ* to hi", feet, uttered a rtirm ■ SStofheSnou-, and lay motionless, his outstretched. her face pressed against the ■■«£>*. '° okcd on breathlessly, and when ' San fell she dropped on her knees and sFuplifted hands cried, in an agitated £L"God pardon mc for a poor, wicked !rSare. who forgot that her cause was in Stands when I sought the life of an innocent gossoon !" She staggered to the Kd throwing herself across the boy s S sobbed hysterically. He, divided Hwen sorrow for his father and anxiety Himself, after one sad wail of » Daddy ! itaddy I"' sat pale and trembling. " The wind brought to us the dull sound of horses' hoofs, and a troop of lancers Lne trotting up the glen by twos, the . goujjght glancing from the points of their Behind, at a slower pace, two or tow companies of infantry climbed the -used path. The whole force was drawn noon the level space before the door, and jn officer, attended by a couple of soldiers, entered. ... t , A The poor woman -was too agitated to gnstrerbis inquiries, and I undertook to satisfy h» n about the passage of the rebels ' jadmy own identity. "Who is this young man, madame s he sfced, referring to the boy, who, on findingßimself observed, shrank back in the bed,:.- , , "Mc son, capten—me only boy, yer hohonr. Don't be afraid, Patsy, darlin': {jje han'some gintleman wont doanythin' loje. "Is the poor lad ill?" the officer asked sjmp atheticall J'* "No.sir; no, yer honour; but the boys -the Faynians, I mane, sir—frightened him, an' runnin' home, he turned his ankle benatbe him. That's all, capten, sir." The soldiers departed, and I soon followed, leaving the boy bemoaning the loss of his only relative, whose body the troops tarried with them, while the woman tried to console him. I arrived in London without further incident

Business took mc again into that neighbourhood some years afterwards, and as the weather w &s fine, I made an excursion to the scene of the adventure I have related Jhe place was easily found, and I was agreeably surprised by the changes that had taken place. Patsy Ryan was still tritb the widow, whose desire for vengeance had collapsed on the death of the boy's father. He was married, and had three sturdy children* who called the old kdy "grannie." The little cottage was replaced by a substantial house; the fugged waste that formerly ran downward from the door, was now cultivated and fenced in with the stones that Patsy dug from his land; a couple of cows grazed lower down ; and pigs, ducks, and {peese roamed about at will. Nothing could exceed the tenderness ihowh by the old lady and her adopted eon towards one another; and as I sat before the hearth, surrounded by the fcinily, 1 1 could not help contrasting the (fflifort and peace that now reigned there, with the poverty, the misery, the fierce passions that I saw on my former visit.— Chambers , Journal.