CHAPTER XI.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXI, Issue 8, 9 December 1892, Page 23

CHAPTER XI.

The tall man, with the long neck enveloped ia the white cravat, was standing at the Pound gate. The three pigs passed mutely and reverentially with their noses close to the ground.

•'Tis amazin'," Joe Sproul remarked, looking sojaewhat awestruck. "I thought we'd have the devil to pay up and down the lane. But no ; you'd think 'twas into a cathedral, while the bishop was preachin', they were goin'. The Glenmoynan pigs must be a very peculiar race, for in all my experience I never met the like of 'em."

•• Thank ye," said Murty Magrath with a polite bow to the two policemen, as he handed a paper to the Pound-keeper, when the three pigs had passed in through the gate. _ The two policemen stared at him,

" £ always said," continued Murty MaßTath ccmplaieantly, " that we never could get on without the Bo — ahem I—the1 — the constabulary . A most useful body of men is the constabulary, especially now when • as a role, they are read in' men." Joe Sproul opened his eyes wider, while the military-looking actine-constable began to show signs of being frightened. " ' Open sesame,' " continued Murty Magrath, surveying Joe Sproul with bland admiration, •• satisfied me that you were a readin' man. And when you spoke of ' wan of Bulwer's,' I was sure of it. But I confess," added Mnrty Magrath, fixing his eyes upon the ground and with a Bolemn movement of the head — " I confess I was unprepared for the Latin. An uncle of my mother's," Murty Magrath went on confidently, looking from one to the other of the dumbfounded constabulary officers, " w&b a classical teacher. He took great pains to get some Latin into me. But I resisted. Like yourself," he remarked}, addressing himself especially to Jos Sproul, "he relied too much upon compulsion. And I believe I always had a spice of the Glen moy nan pig in me ; the devil wouldn't fatten me, or make me do anything I didn't like myself. But my mother's uucle was a tough wan. Lord, what a kithonge he had 1 " exclaimed Murty Magratb, twisting his shoulders and wincing at the bare recoLlection of that classical left hand. " Acd as for the rod, aB be called it— bat it was a compressed shillelagh— the essence of everything stinging was infused into that instrument. No matter how low he'd hit yon with that rod you'd instantaneously feel it comin' into your throat ; you'd be tryin' to swally something the minate that rod touched your person. Ah, wasn't there venom in it 1 " The Pound-keeper grinned ; but Joe Sproul and the acting-con-stable only stared. ■ , " Well, he did whale a trifle of Lilly's Grammar into me," Marty Magrath continued. " 'Tis not very useful, so far as I can see ; but 'tis pleasing to the mind sometimes. When I saw them pigs trotting so elegantly over the bridge, Lilly's Grammar oame to my mind, and I said — ' Numquan sera est ad botiot mores vial 1 which means good manners on the road — to the Pound or elsewhere — is better late than never. And in like marner, when ye so kindly took charge of 'em at the Gross of Glenmoynan, I just got over the ditch for fear ye'd be anyway shy— l at once said Nemo vwrtalium omnibus horis tapit, which, as near as I can make out, is no mortal policeman is wise at all hours." " What are you ? " Acting-con3table Finucan asked falteringly, •' A sheriff's officer," was the reply ; " or, if you prefer the more commonly used term— a bailiff. The decree was only for one pound fifteen acd fourpenca half-penny. But I thought it would be cruel to separate the creathers. Bo I seized the three." " 'Tis an awful se 1," s .id Acting-constable Finucan, looking piteously into Joe Sproul's face. " You're a man of few words," said Marty Magrath pleasantly. " But don't tell me you're not a readin' man. I see ' The Stories of Waterloo ' in your eye. Tell the truth now, don't people call you captain? just as if they couldn't help it? Now if you volunteered the time of the Indian War ; I'm lookin' at you," continued Muxty Magrath, shutting one eye, and fixing the other on the black pig, reposing in the far corner of the Pound, "on the broad of your back on a sofy in the mess-zoom, smokin' a cigar. Or — " here Murty Magrath moved his feet genteelly, and turned half round, with an air and look which we think the word coquettish will best convey an idea of — " all round the room, you know ; waltzin'. I'm sorry you didn't volunteer for India — though your loss to the constabulary would be felt. I hope," Murty asked with concern, " that fall on the heap of stones in the quarry didn't hurt you much ? " Acting-con-stable Finucan stooped down and rubbed bis left shin. "As for the fall oa the road," added Murty Magrath, " I wou dot mind that. A fall on the fl»t is nothing ; you ju^t feel upset ; that's all. But that tumble in the quarry looked ugly. ' The tall bailiff had lit his pipe while delivering these last remarks, and now stood leaning against the Pound gate, puffiag con. templatively with his bat back on his poll. He thrust his hands into his breeches pockets, and raised one shoulder up nearly to his ear. A light seemed to break upon Joe Sproul as he gazed upon the tall bailiff, who had undergone quite a metamorphosis in a moment. •• I remember now," Joe Sproul muttered. •• 'T wasn't a picture. 'Twas you was sittin' on the lime-kiln while we were chasm' 'em round the quarry 2 " "Twas," was the reply. "And d— a smart fellows ye are, 'Twas a pleasure to be looking at ye. Sure I mighc have known even then that ye were readin' men. That wary expression, ' try 'em diagonally, as they won't go straight,' taken in conjunction with the way ye got over the large heap, might have satisfied me that I had cultivated minds to rely upon." " You didn't give us much assistance," said Joe Sproul. " No," replied Murty Magrath. " I said I'd act magnanimously and leave ye all the credit. And I'm not sorry for it. It would be unworthy of a sheriff's officer of thirty years' standing, to step in and rob ye of an iota of the glory. I leave such meanness to Sammy Sloane and the likes of him. He's a little Saxon without an idea in his head ; kaowa nothing about piga bat to pat a fat slice between

two pieces of bread and chaw it, If it was bim instead of me, ye couldn't talk of this day's work, as ye can now, of a winter's night, sittin' round the fire like the former's rosy children, when some gentle hand will tap at the bolted|door, maybe to tell you that your friend the tinker's wife wtu sending some poor fellow's front teeth inside his shirt. Bat yon didn't say whether yours went down," said Murty Magrath, thrusting iis finger inside his cravat. " But don't suppose," tbe bfefiiff s pdded, " that I want to deny that I am under an obligation to ytju. I : atm ; and I ackowledge it. Good evenin' and safe home. I'll drop it to see ye the next day lam passing. You'll know by that rime whether that black pig is very like a black swan, or only a common character in Glenmoynan." " Where did you pick up yonr Latin 1 " he asked, 'turning round after having walked half-a-dozen yards from the Pound; gate. "In the 'Spellin' Book Superseded,'" replied Jon Sprool, evidently doubtful as to whether the tall bailiff was not after all a civil «nd 'sociable person. "Twaan't wbaled into you 1 " the tall bailiff inquired. "No," replied the sub-coostable, " Fmucan an' me studied the L»tin^nd French phrases of ourowa accord." "'Ha I ye haven't the Glenmoynan pig in yer insides," said the bailiff. " There's nothing gives a young man confidence like a few Latin rjhrase's, besides the comfort to the mind when a fellow feels cast down. Try it and you'll find I'm right. The next time you make an ass of yourself jnstrssy, Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit, and you'll find how comforting it is. But mind say sa-pit like a Christian," added the bailiff benevolently, " and not say-pit, like Parson Latouch. And above all," he continued imploringly, raising his hand and waring it there several times towards Joe Sproul, " don't make a saw-pit of it. That'? woree even than say-pit, for 'tis barbarous — and would be uncommonly out of place in the mouth of an intelligent policeman whose teeth have met with accidents."'

Having delivered himself of this impressive leoture, Murty Magrath put his hand under his coat-tails and walked leisurely away, softly whistling the " Peeler and the Goat."