WEEDS A STORY OF THE IRISH INVINCIBLES.

Observer, Volume 6, Issue 154, 25 August 1883, Page 10

WEEDS A STORY OF THE IRISH INVINCIBLES.

jy TBDE POLICY OP ASSASSINATION. v£"A SENSATIONAL STOBT OP THE TIMES. > '<:■- CHAPTEEII. „':".' AN IEISH CABIN. Bawder, the agent to Lord Galteemore, under 'whose rule at least one* third of the people assembled in the square of Galteetown lived, was a man about forty years of age : in appearance handsome and attractive looking. He "was a self-made man j he had begun life, as his name would indicate, as a Roman Catholic, but being ambitious of social as well as pecuniary advancement, he joined the Protestant Church, and, as soon as he came of age, and could afford the subscription, the Free Masons' society. He 2iad begun life in an attorney's office in Dublin, but being clever and hardworking, soon got into business on his own account. He had acquired some property in the county, and had now held lord Galteeinore's agency for about seven years. When Lawder first came to G-altmoie,the chieftain of that ilk was resident in the Castle, a big, square, modern house, situated in a splendid demesne close to the ruins — Cromwellian, of course — of what had been the chief fortification of the town. But this had ceased to be so. The family had now been away for more than a year, and was likely to remain away still longer. This change in their habits had been brought about by different causes. Lawder's leading characteristicVas love of rule. So long as Lord Galteemore was at home, his position was but a secondary one ; not that his employer ever interfered or allowed complaint or appeal ; but Lawder wanted to rule absolutely — he did virtually ; but so long as the earl and countess were there, he felt himself to be overshadowed. Lord Q-alteemore was by no means a model landlord; but that did not prevent his being popular. He had a pleasant manner, and knew how to talk to the people, in itself a talent, but he had not the slightest scruple in raising the rent where he saw the land was increased in r alue. It was not the custom of the estate "To jrant leasas. The tenants all hsra at will, and he rents had been raised "pretty often. Lord Jalteemore had h?£i educated from his boyhood a England. jlnaEad lived a " stormy youth," as ras the family habit, fifty per cent, of his income ivent to pay off. mortages. So, when a couple of >hraateniug letters reached him at his club in London, though somewhat hurt, he was not particularly surprised. He took the hint and lid not return. But it is probable that he would not have acted 'upon it so promptly had he not determined, on the occasion of his eldest son's coming of age, to break the entail, and, by disposing of part of the estate, reduce the heavy drain upon his income. He meant to raise his rental all round this coming Michaelmas — not that lie intended to exact the increase, not at all ; it was a' mere nominal thing, as would be carefully explained to the tenants. They would all continue at the former rates, but once sold the purchaser of the property, could do as he liked. He had done this once before with a small portion of his estate. Lawder knew nothing of this intention on his noble patron's part ; but G-altee-town had learned it in some mysterious manner, and the knowledge did not lessen the ill will with ■which the agent was regarded. Lawder's very civility was odioiis to them. How dare that " got-up " give himself airs with his horses and dogs ! The country was greatly come down when the gentry suffered that person in the huntingfield. His love of coursing joined to the fact of his possessing some prize greyhounds, in a measure attracted some of the better-class farmers' sons to him ; but he was distrusted by the people at large. He had, moreover, but an indifferent reputation ; he was married when he came to Oalteetown, but had now been a widower for three years. He had one child. His house had been kept for him since his wife's death by an elderly female relation, who had left his roof six months before, oh account of a " scandal," the same which the market-woman now discussed so angrily in connection with his recent marriage, and which Lawder was likely to expatiate bitterly. " Four thousan' of a fortune ! Laws !" repeated Mrs Roche, reverting to the popular topic. " I wonder what sorb she'll be. 'Tia a power o' money if the woman's young." "Young ajad good looking !" repeated the housekeeper, with the same bitter voice. She did not know whether she spoke truth or not, but it pleased her to pour oil on the flame of popular resentment against Lawder. " Ah," snarled Mrs Roche, " it's the likes of him meets in wid luck. Sure look at him with his hunting horses and dogs, and his new gig, and look at the monej he earns doing nothing for it but sit in that office and take the rints, and may be potther with a little writing." Lawder'was a tafd working energetic agent, but Mrs Roche's conception of work was limited to picking stones off a field, or churning on a hot summer's day. *' G-ood day to yez all," she said suddenly. * f Come on " — this was to her donkey, catching bis head and proceeding to drag the cart put of the crowd. M.a,ry .Heffernan, -whose brown, wrinkled face was flushed with the exertion of getting into the cart, wfts l '~no sooner settled comfortably on the aeat than she recollected her grievance; and, moved to sudden wrath, shook her fist in the face of ttie constabulary man, as the ass-cart passed him. " Listen to me, peeler ! If I have to leave me little place ; and cross the say this year — do you hear me — assure as God made little apples I'll do it on a rope, I wili. I'll have Lawder's life." The constabulary man looked at the little * feeble old creature who was threatening him with '.sfche energy and venom of a September wasp, and burst into arpar of laughter at the sight. Mrs JJoche, who had. just taken her seat beside her, gave her a push, with her elbow in friendly •warning. Slight as' it was, it was sufficient to upset Mrs Heffernan's equilibrium. She tumbled over backward into the hay among the parcels, aiid Qj^ejfpoioe'by sleep and heat, fell into A'peaceful .dozens. -.:}■'.- :- - ■.-,. .'>-.; =' .-,-. • -.< . i ,•; ■-;,' ..-..- ." They had five miles to go before Mrs Roche

and Mrs Heffernan reached the cross-roads where they were to part company. It was close upon half -past five when they started, and the donkey's pace, homeward though his steps were turned, was deliberate in the extreme. It was not long before his owner was forced to lighten the load by getting out. Weeds there were everywhere. Tall thistles loosed and sent abroad countless winged messengers of mischief. Rag weed grew all round them, lifting its brazen head even in the potato ridges, and crowning every ditch ; nettles and docks and thistles sprang up, pushing their lusty growth like the indigenous lords of the soil, out into the very highway itself, and dandelions, vetch, and purple loose-strife crowded in their shade. Everything was ripe, the blackberries were already turning, the haws had a bronzed look, and the berries of the mountain ash hung in brilliant clusters, the hue of which was caught and repeated by the poppies among the other dusty weeds at the roadside. The people had all gone home from work, and save the corncrake with its hoarse August voice calling in the fields, ' or the cooing of the wood-pigeons which peopled the copses, not a sound broke the stillness. At last they reached the cross-roads, where they were to part company. The instant the cart sto|Dped Mary Heffernan woke up and tumbled j herself out upon the road ; then she grasped her bag of meal and swung it over V-: sbrmicb\ . j " God reward you, MYs E<Wh-. ' r--. ■ - : >J.. '' &•- <.! j reward you always, 1W '•■on &c: - 1 aoo- 1 ! " Good night to yui., Vi-ivy Iloi; .-l'nn.n " I i " You are a kind woii-t.l 1.0 mo Mrs RuCf<; j .' : | 1 "Ah, whisht! good " Z --/.M -o you," ■■,;■.< : ( ,r-- ! Roche's reply, accompli iid by ;i thu;.-ir; L..« \.hnt \ portion of the donkey's body v. hic-li -y:\; : ni urr-^i | to her. The cart drove oJi' thrnujrh ''-.•;• vL:i> wood, and Mary Heffer/nr-.ii bi>ni, her back and faced the hill-road that led to her home. Half way up this lane she met her husband, who was waiting there for her. He was a thin, anxiouslooking old man, with fine dark eyes, very poorly clad, and seemingly both out of health and spirits. Mary Heffernan stopped and rested the mealbay agaiust the dyke-side, and wiping the perspiration off hhre r face ?;ij^4lGr- h^ds began at once |^_ " ' - "''"l did sell the little chickens — yes ; an' there was a power of ducks and chickens in the place. Con," she was fumbling in her pocket as she spoke, " and there is yer bit of tobacka, Limerick Twist, it is, for you. Oh, weary on ye for mail — ugh :" she had hoisted the bag on her back again. "My poor arms are tired ; only for that good woman below there, that .gives me a lift, sure I might die with all my sins upon me on that road. There was not much butter in the market ; the mountainy people brought down but little. The place is all burnt up, you see." Con had lighted his pipe and was trudging stolidly ahead. She followed him as closely as she could, talking all the time. Another might easily have seen from her hurried pouring forth that she had bad news to tell, and was by degrees approaching it as circuitoualy as possible. This was her habit ; but it sometimes happens that the people who in this world least know each other's habits are the husbands and wives who have lived forty years together. The little cabin was all but dark. From the grieshoch) which was as she had left it that morning, she perceived the faintest possible glow. She seized a couple of dry sods from the heap beside the fire, with her fingers removed the gray ashes, and blowing on the mass, soon made a blaze. Then she went to a corner, where the three-legged irou pot had been laid upon its side for the convenience of the feathered inhabitants of the house, washed it well, and bringing it back placed it upon the fire half filled with water. " What did you get for the chickens ?" asked the old man, knocking as he spoke the ashes from his pipe on the hearthstone. " Four and sixpence for them all. I sold three for fifteen-pence, to Darey it was," she replied, looking up furtively at him. He had laid his pipe upon the shelf beside him, and was now leaning both hands upon his stick. After a moment's pause, it seemed as if it took some time for him to realise the import of what was said to him, he struck the stick on the floor. " Did he send any word to me ?" he asked. Mary Heffernan stooped her head over the pot and sighed bitterly. This was the fatal item of news which she had kept to the last. " Said 'twas little -use your goin' to him," she replied in a choked voice, after v pause, during which the bubbling of the porridge seemed unnaturally loud. He said not a word, but looked at her fixedly for an instant, then let his head fall upon his hands which rested upon the stick and groaned. The porridge bubbled and boiled, the fitful flame of the turf by degress drove out the last lingering reflections of the August evening. It | lighted up the bent white head of the old man, j and Mary Heffernan's ragged red shawl, with the corner of which she was now and again wiping away the tears which coursed one another down ' her withered cheeks. ] Mrs Roche had a couple of miles to travel - yet, ere she reached her home after setting down her I neighbour. As she guided the tired donkey into a narrow path which led .up to her house, a tall, slim girl jumped down from behind a I'ock where she had been waiting, and clinging to her skirt and following her as closely as she could, came a chubby, ragged urcliin of four, bare-legged and with a head and face burned by the sun to the colour of ripe wheat. " Mammy ! mammy !" he shouted, jumping into the middle of the path in front of the cart. "Ay," responded mammy, rather hoarsely; " stand out of the way, will ye ?" " Where's my sugarstick ?" he demanded, beginning to kick and caper in the dust. Mrs Roche was tired and cross, and had for- . gotten the sugarstick in the excitement and hurlyburly ; it did not improve her temper to remind her of it, and that she had disapointed the child — her Benjamin. " Sugarstick !" she shouted angrily. " How dare ye ask me for sugarstick ? Norah, why haven't ye that child in bed ? Nothin' will serve ye but sugarstick ; wait till I get you, and seethe bating I'll give ye !"- ..-.:■ I He stared at .her with: wide-opened brown eyes for an instant. Then on her making afeifet to

eatclx him, he turned and ran as fast; as he could up the road. She shook her fist at him. The brown legs scudded off through the dust, and the tangled yellow head never turned to look round. "Sugarstick, indeed ? You have that boj destroyed, Norah," grumbled Mrs Eoche, relenting of her humour already. JSTorab never even looked round. She had taken the bridle and was drag- ! ging the ass after her up the steep hilly path. ' " Weary on ye both, ye torments II am dead bet up, I am. Tom ! she called, getting sight of a man -who was standing in the yard at the end of the house ; " come and take out the beast." He lounged forward obediently : he was a big goodhumoured looking man, in his shirt sleeves. His coat was lying on top of the dyke. There was every sign of plenty and prosperity about, notwithstanding the untidiness j a lean-to cow-house, the door of which was open, showed a couple of calves tethered in the stalls. The cows were all in the fields, a large potato-patch "was behind the house, and side by side with it several acres of oats. A good-sized pool of liquid slush with an opalescent scum upon its surface, decorated the yard before the cow-house. The oat-field, of which a broken wall. gave a full view, was like a botanical garden, hawkweed topped all the multi-colour weeds, its humble relation, the dnndelion, growing faithfully clo=" 4 o "f. side by »-k'if with a red flush of poppic?, ivo or throe kinds of thistles and purple vetch, vvhilf ! lie :v>;usi i was kept by meadowjwoi"'. -Did rag->veod, uH in the prime of their 'liooni. uiiti scc-j it ms: t; ■:• <">?v (U-'.urously. No one niir.riV:v.:fi '\"i--- tii ii i.-. . 'Ja? .- h'lch'en, who had L'diiJaf .v.y.v. :iw.\ :":• ■ >cv.'- ais-a^f in the sun v- tl'.;:v !;:•■>;•■-, d' -^ little 0: needing as of -fiwiiii ov ix-..: ,;.-- M oiv.li hud i;\vo bigger who were .-'< uOiin-r.i- scno °i " an es " pense somewhat un-r.'ik-fi. ta-vhr- -C:\tj-.ilv means; but Mrs Eoche hail. ,\ti miej$ x - and deemed it needful to kecy up -v< : \ reai-oet-ability of the family by causing her dtingbte;-.-* to learn French and the u^e of dv; glol>"»- Tho boys, of whom there were throe, ranging iron; fifteen down to the four-year-ojil Mick, h J/^ <c their parents, that weeding wa« oo use. ..'-'< ° one weeds. The thistle and dandelion, if rooted out in one place, would only be blown on ' ' a ,F ain .. fr-OTP. fee. -TJc'igiivunth. 'i'n&j held nearly" two" hundred acres, only eighty of which was good land, and two acreß of that at least was wasted in ditches. " That was always so," like the weeds and like sowing the refuse potatoes of a worn-out variety, for the equally valid reason that " every one did it." They kept two horses, chiefly for their amusement, for Eoche and hia eldest son were fond of attending funerals and races, and a woman servant to cook for and feed the animals. Inside the house, which was a two-storied plastered edifice, things were much like the poor Heffernans' cabin. There was the same clay tloor, the turf burning on the hearthstone — everything was much the same, but there seemed to be more of it, more delf on the dre3ser, a larger turf fire, and a larger pot swinging by a chain over it. Mrs Eoche wore a silk dress on Sunday,ar.d drove to mass on her " side car." That did not prevent her putting a blazing Bpark of turf into the churn before setting to make butter, and consulting a wise woman \>hen her cow fell ill, in preference to the veterinary surgeon in G-altee-town. Her mother-in-law lived with them. They agreed on the whole fairly well. Mrs Eoche, senior, always held that her daughter-in-law expected too much, seeing the figure of her fortune. There was not a book in the house save the children's tattered national school-booka. Eoche read The Freeman, which he subscribed for in union with two neighbouring farmers. He was a lazy, good-tempered man, a tenant at will ; his rent had been raised twice since he got possession of his farm, and he expected, with some show of reason, for it was still, speaking relatively, low rented, that the process would be repeated, a consideration which did not stimulate him to increased exertion. Mrs Eoche was met at the house door by her mother-in-law, who was in the act of flattening out a large flour cake into the shape of a wheel between her hands. There was a rolling-pin in the house, but she liked the old-fashioned way " But you're late, Mary Ann !" was her salutation. " I began the cake without waitin' on ye longer. Tom is wanting big supper this hour — he's goin' over the Cross Eoads to night." A quick, sharp look was exchanged by the two woman. " What news have ye ?" went on the elder. " Mr? Connor was in here on her way home from market. Heff ernan's son is to be home next week, she tells me. Can't get nothin' to do, they'll have to quit that place surely. Mary Clifford was taken to Cork yesterday to be put off to America." " What's this yon done to Mickey ?" said the j farmer's voice at the door. He had seated himself on the doorstep, and the little fellow who had been disappointed of bis sugar-stick Btoocl by him with a sulky pout on his grimy face. " Come here wid ye, tormint," said the mother. She went to a press, and taking a loaf thence which she had brought home with her from the town, cut him a slice which sbe spread with dark brown sugar. '' I must give him something, or he'll say I'm a liar. Say thank you no^r, and take that puss off you this minute," she said, holding it away from him until he obeyed. He obeyed her and grinned, then carried his prize back to the doorstep. He was a pretty child, the youngest of the brood, and spoilt. The father winked at him approvingly, "There ye are now, Mick : and more power to ye, son." "Are ye going to the Cross Eoada to-night ?" aaked the wife from within, in a complaining voice. He made her no answer, bx;t began to sing : " To the Currach of Kildare The boys they will repair, And Lord Edward will be there Says the Shau-van-vogt." The singing, varied by conversation with Mick, was kept up until the cake was cooked. Mrs | Eoche asked no more question, and the moment the meal was over, the farmer put on his hat and took the road down hill. (To he continuedj.

j■ It iw saia that, the' Queen's temper must soon incapacitate her ~for the discharge of public affairs.