ME AN' EDWARD VII.

Dunstan Times, Issue 2096, 24 September 1901, Page 3

ME AN' EDWARD VII.

We haint nivur met e,s yit, but thot's not the loss of Bantry M'Birr. An' it's the. new King's fault, too, fur me name an' addriss air in ivrv direktury, an' he kud foind his way aero'sst the oshun pond mutch aisier thon Oi, wot wud hav ter wurk me passage ovur, an' thin walk ter London besoids. Faix, an' kant King Ned kum an' go whin he '■■ lazes, wid nivur a sowl, barrin' 'Lexandrv. ter diktate ur hindur ! But they tell me he's a short mon, ruthur saw'd off at the top, an' so he may shtand a troiful in awe ov his tall han'sum woife. He's bin a Prince ov gild fellers fur years, an' me an' him moight mak the hist ov frends, though we'd ditfur a dale in sum things, an' hav' mony quare points ov resimbhnce. Edward Foive-an'-Two-Oyes lias got the aisL-st job on airth, whoile it's mesilf es is out ov a cud job half the toime. He's got gobs ov foine clothes, whoile Oi don't happin ter hav a dacint koat ter me busy back, at presint wroitin'. He sinds strings ov splendid horses off ter win races, but Oi kant git a pape at the races here twoict a year. He lies half a duzen grond palices fur livin' in, an' Oi hav' es mony kastils in Spain ter offset thim. We're es loike es twin peas in uthur things, too. Oi've read thot Edward will spind the summer at Frogmore, an' fur odol per day Oi kan summer whar thar's more frogs thin Oi kud kotch. He's got a healthy family ov childern an' grandchilden. but forty years hince Oi'll hav the same, the mesuls, mumps, an' hoopin' coff parmittin'. He lies a, Quane fur a woife, but Miss Mally Downpatrick, wot Oi hope wull be Mrs M'Birr by Kristmus nixt, is jist es mutch ov a quane in her proud, swate way. He's bin lift a hundrid fortunes bv his gud ould muthur, whoile Oi'm tiyin' ter am wun fur moine. The King's grate on goff an' the links, but the only links thot Oi ivur see air the links ov sausage in the butcher shops. He's got a, throne ter set on, but it ain't a speck more kumfurtabul thin me fathur's ould grane rockur, thot wuz 'mportid strate frum County Down. His loife's bein' writtin up by min wot thinks it wull mak thim famus, an' me own loife haint wurth wroitin' atall, atall. He's got a neck scarf num'd fur him, an' thot's honur anuff in this kuntry. His hull hed wull be on the new English post-stamp, but Oi kan buy numb-ids ov thim, ef Oi hav the sponduliks. i " He's a King fur Ireland," sez Oi ter me swatehart Mally's grandfathur, ould Sligo Downpatrick, the night ov the day Edward furst set fut on the Throne, " An' think ov the korynashun we'll be bavin' wun ov these foine clays!" Misther Sligo, who lies a peppery thnper, an' hates Brittins an' ivry thing British, jest es he duz the itch an' smallpox, klapt in his false teeth, guv his galluses a hitch, spit on both hands, an' thin started in fur a wurdy war. "A king fur Ireland, did yer say? Thot remains ter be seen, es the mon sed ter his fut-print! Misther Prince-ov-Doliins mav nivur be korynatid! Begorra, an' why shud he be? Haint England kapabul ov rulin' hersilf, the same es Ameriky? Ain't she, Bantry M'Birr?" "Yis," Oi assinted, "but the paple luv Royalty, an' air bound ter hav it, ter the ind ov toime." "Who's Edward VII.?" axt grandfather Downpatrick. " The„ biggest mon in Eurup ter day, ansor'd Oi, wid a, wi:«k at Mally. who wuz stitchin' by the winay. " Don't argu wid him," she whispered. "He burnt his mouth wid hot soup at supper, an"' he's bin spoilin' fur a foiglit wid sumbuddy ivur since." " Who's Edward VII. ?" he demanded again. "Wot is he but the oldist son ov Victory? Ony uther sprig ov nobil'ty wud do es well! Thar's a plinty ov hansummer nun!" "Yis," Oi nodded; "Oi'm wun mesilf." "But who air you, Bantry M'Birr?" "Me farthur's vuiHsfc," retorts Oi, kuinposidly. "An' Edward VII. is all right, fur he's got a boat kall'd Shamrock II." But grandfathur Downpatrick shuk his kontrarv lied with a scowl. "Thot's ter fool ther Irish! Don't ye bud on any sich ' doin's ! Ireland must hav' her liberty ! She wull hav' it!" "Yis,' 'sez Oi, "ef we hav' ter go back an' fnight fur it." But Misther Downpatrick is only brave wid his tung, an' so he didn't secund me propysishun. Me oyes wor hxt on Mally, fur she's got a face swate anuff ter be stared at by the hour, an' Oi nivur miss me chance. Shure an' King Edward an' all his court wud lie plazed wid it. But nivur a wun ov the Downpatricks air plazed wid mesilf. "Bantry M'Birr," sed the ould mom " why don't yer start for South Afriky. an' hilp the Boers foigbt fur liberty?" " Bekase Oi'm nadetl in Noo York. An' me inteurnashunal frendship ain't extindin' thot fur, Misther Downpatrick. Oi'd rutheur foight fur King Edwurd ony day." " Ye wud?" "Ony day manes no day—giuerilly." " But ye're on this new King's soide !' " Nary," sez Oi; " Oi'm on this soide—ov the oshun." (The last three worruds undur me breth.) An' Mally liurd, an' smoiled. Ould Sligo swung round an' faced inc. "Ye've got a bukit ov wather on both shouldirs, M'Birr, an' ye'd karry anuthur fur Mally thar, ef ye kud!" "Ov coorse," sez Oi • " the ladies shudn t be sloighted." " But ye're a two-faced gossoon !" " The mon uv ter-day nades a duzen faces." "Thar wuz nivur a mon loike thot m the Downpa'rrick fain']-"!" " But thai- may be wun yit," sez Oi. unblushin'. "Ye think thot yell marry me grandartur, Bantry M'Birr! Shure an' haint Oi o-ot'uthur plans made fur her futur? Shc'Jl wed wid munny, or not atall!" "Oi think a, dale ov Miss Mally, Misther Downpatrick." "Ye kant hav' her. not ef Edward himsilf kommanded it, Oi'm no mon's mon, not aven the King's!" He guv his pipe a fling thot kivur'd the cat wid ashes an' suit Fitzsimmuns, the dog, nyin' through the windy. Mally sprung up in a, froight, an' klung ter ine arrum, whoile we both wundur'd what wuz kumin'' nixt, "Git out ov me flat, wid yer baksass 'bout Edward the Sivinth, an wot not," he croid. "An' shtay out furivur-— d'ye hear thot?" "Yis," sez Oi, wid a laff, "the M'l'.uts all hav' two ears apiece an' " "Hush!" sed Mally, opniiv the dure. "Things thot folks may be sorry fur shud nivur be shpoken atall." "An' Misther Sligo Downpatrick is a jintlemou at hart," ses Oi. wid the bow ov a Chisturheld. "It's me waul ov munny thot always riles him an' maks him riddy ter foight. The Downpatricks an' M'Birrs wor frends fur a sinshurry in Ireland, Oi'm told." "(!it out wid yer blarney!" sed the ould mon, puttin' on his coat, an' pertendin' not ter see tlie snuaze Oi guv ter Mally's purty whoite hand, es we parted fur a noight an' a day, at the top ov the stair. An' whin Oi reaehl the fut Oi shoutid back: "Rah fur Edward the Sivinth!" But Oi didn't wait a, seckund fur the bootjack thot came tumblin' afther. Me absince wuz a dale bether "thou me kutnpany.—Mrs Findley Braden. in ' Leslie's Weekly.'