AN IRISH STORY.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume 29, Issue 5, 29 May 1896, Page 6

AN IRISH STORY.

FOBSWORN.

(By JOHN J. O'Shka in the Catholic World ) " AND so this is the famous Blarney Oastle ! Pshaw I 'Tig only a fraud — I mean as a ruin." Such was tbe disgusted exclamation of Thorpley Vane, an English don from Oxford, to the local guide and cicerone, Jemmy Punch, as the two stood on the well-known little bridge with tbe circular opening and looked at the gray and grim old keep through the apertnre. " That's it, sir ; you see it all there sure enough," returned the guide a little apologetically. " 'Tie bigger nor you'd imagine, though, sir ; wait till you get nearer to it. Them trees that shut it in on all sides, they hide tbe half of it." 1 I can res the whole of an ugly square towei ; how, then, can tbe half be hidden ? " " There's the lodge-keeper's and the guide's quarter?, sir, in undber *he trees. Two quarters make a half, you know, Bir." Tbe gentleman from England fixed hia monocle firmly in his eye, and turning around looked at the guide steadfastly for a few seconds. Jemmy Punch bore the scrutiny with the calm insouciance of unsuspecting innocence. " V nr system of applied mathematics, my friend," at length said Mr Vane, "appears a little Btran?e to me, but I rather admire its ingenuity. Did you ever hear of the differential calculus ? " " Calculus, sir I An' what might be the manin' of that ? " " Calculus means a stone. The ancients used to couot by stones, you ought to understand." 41 TJoed they, sir 1 " Well, I suppose they knew no betther. No, I never bard of the differential calculus. The only calculus I know that's worth talkin' about is that big one beyant there in tbe castle — the Blarney Sthone, as we're proud to call it. I make a few ha'penca by it now an' agin."

" The Bl»rney Stone — ah, yes, I'va often heard nb mt it. Yon My you derive some revenue from it ; how does t at arise / " '■You sec, sir, that ould sthone baa a great name for giving people tbe gift of the gab. Some are so bould as to want to kiss it, an' I'm the on'y man about here that they care to tbiuat themselves With when they go to thry it." '•Ah, yts j I've heard about it. One baa to be lowered from the battlements, I believe, in order to accomplish the feat " "It's the feet that have to be held, st, while thi tongue is getting the accomplishment," anuw red Jemmy, »ith thai fresh pastoral look again in his ru<?dy, guileless face. •' B'.es^ me, h>w dense," mutteied Mr Vane, tot to roee. '■ lavereion is the rule everywhere in this country, I benevj," he ad led, audibly. "That's it, sir— that's the scientific name I've hard for the way you kisa the Blarney Stone. Would you wish to tbry ir, sir ? " "I do not think I need any addition to my stock of eloquence, at least for present vies ; I prefer to note and observe things just now," replied the visitor. " The pleasure of being abb to botst of the achievement would hardly compensate for ilia risk in my opinion." A peal of mocking laughter from bqlow causid the speaker to thrust his bead through the aperture in search of 'be impertinent Interruption. The laugh was as gay us the tong of a lin. et aod y. t it was exasperating. " I believe that girl ia laughing at me," he said, pulling in his head very suddenly. " Very ill-bred, but decidedly pr, t y." " People may laugh in tbe fi ldc, I suppose, without a< y rff -nee. There's more ill-breedin' shown in patsi^' diaparagiu' remaiks on people you don't Know, I'm thinkiu'." A decided change had come over the faca and m»nner of Jemmy Punch as he matU this reply. There was a> ger in the hoietofore innocent b ue i-ye, and minatory strength in th- musical brogue. The stranger pe.ceived that he had blundered somehow, aod he hastened to retncve the faux pas

"I beg your pardon," be said ; " I w s not aware it was any friend of yours, and I thought it was at mysel r , not you, ihe^y laughing. G od-day." He moved ( ff in the direction of the villaee of Blarney, and the guide, planting his back against the coping of he lit 1 le bridge, folded his arms a d looked after him with a doubtful expression. Wbethrr to be angry or whether to be hilarious depended on a whim of the moment frcm btl >w. '0 Jemmy I come here ; make haste ; here's a g'and eel as long as your arm, but I'm not able to hould him." It was tbe same rich piccolo voice whose tones had so irritated tbe stranger wbich calif" 7 . Down the bank, t'.ree yards at each bound, plunged Jemmy Punch, like Theseus at the cry of Andromeda, The sea-monster would have fared as badly as the unlucky eel had it been there when Moya Connor cried for help on Jemmy Punch. Whit a specimen of young manhood he was I A great broad* shouldered fleet-limbrd fellow, such as the old Fenii were composed of— men who could burl tbe massive stone through the air with tbe force of a catapult, and tread so lightly as not to b r eak a twig. A handsome giant too, for all his rough dress ; and a m ny one as ye bare seen. Tbe girl who was playing the angler was not much more (ban a child in years, yet she was ii truth as a full-Mown roee. Tnat delicate texture of early girlhood wbich s^ems 83 like the wpxen beauty of tbe mellow peach was fresh npon her check, although b<r sm^ll and shapely hand was decidedly brown and hard-lookin ', betokening wholesome outdoor toil. On her head was nei'her hat nor binnet, but tbe glossy black bair wbich coiled about btr ruck w»t looped up with a morsel of red ribbon, in a way that tuggested tbe latent c quetishness of even work-a-day rusticity. " An' how did you manage to get away fishin' to-day, Moya 7 " queried tbe guide, as te extricated the now defunct eel from the book and proceeded to rearrange the very primitive tack irq upon the sou* sally-rod which served the girl for her pisca'orial pastime " Bure I thought ye were all to be busy at baymakin' to-dny."

"We had to put it rff 'ill to-morrow. Dad had to g> to Cork to get some ropes, fur he fjuni 'ie wj» short wh**n he went to \o >k for 'em in the barn. 8> O »i«y here a*ked m■ to come fisbin' along with him. Maybe 'tis lucky I did, for that eel might have dragged tbe poor child into the river." Owoey looked at bis sister with a reproachful glanc, A boy of eight years old to be thought liable to be overcome by a two-pound cci 1 It looked like an aspersion on his character. " Tell the truth, M >ya," he re'orted. " Didn't you say to mes'lf when yon saw me takin' down the Hoe that you saw Terence Foley comin' over to the house, and that you'd get away, for you couldn't bear the sight of htm 1 " A Bmile leped into the b'ae ey a s of Jemmy Punch, which h*d been fastened keenly upon the youngster's face as he told bit artless tale. '■ More power to you, Ovney, my boucbal 1 " be cried, patting the little fellow on the back with hia great hind. " Always tell the truth — to me— bu*, mind, don't tell this to Terry Foley— unless you're axed." •• I don't want to tell anything to Terry Foley ; he's an ould naygur that ge*s all the begsrar's curses," replied the boy impetuously, and then he added meditatively, " I wonder what he do be comin' over to our bouse bo often for ? Nobody there talks to him much bat dad." 11 Maybe he* comin' to smuggle you off to the fairies, Owney.an' pnt an old sherfrah in yoor place," suggested Jemmy Punob, " K j ep an eye on him, an 1 if he ever aska you to go anywhere a'ong with him set Nettle at him." " Sorra a aep I'll ever go with him," answered tbe nrchin. " But I'd be afraid to set Nettle at him, for dad likes to have him cimin' over, I know." Hiving exhausted all the game m this pirt of tbe stream in the capture of tbe eel the trio moved off to a bend lower down to see whatfurth*r luck awaited the fishers. Meantime, the gentleman from Oxford rursued his j mrney towards the village. Ht was a stoutly-built, well-fed, fresh-corn-

plexiooed man of about thirty yean. Hii face bore that look of con•dom superiority which a long heritage of good living and habits of command impart to a certain type of what a distinguished authority ■tyles an imperial race. His attire was that of the summer tourist, remarkable for something like audacity in pattern and absence of Ityleincat. In his right hand he bore a substantial walking-cane with a showy koob of silver ; in his left he carried a bulgy gripsack. He looked like a brilliant apparition as he rounded the tnrn of the rot/ btyond the bridge where the heavy border of treeß along the sides of a demesne plunges the way into a dense shadow. So he mast appear to that gloomy. looking individual in black, with the military-looking cap and portentous baton depending from shining leathern belt, which he saw coming leisurely toward aim as be hastened along in the pleasant sunlight. He did not calculate on producing any more than an impression ; he was not prepared for inch a result as an imperious challenge : " Stand, in the Queen's name I Who are yon ? What are you doing here z What have you got in that sack 7 " Almost letting fall the sack in question along with the relaxed lower jaw, Mr Vane drew up sharply and stood stock-Btill for a moment, speechless from amazement. "Th— there must be some mistake — some confusion of persons," be stammered at length, " I'm not the person you take me for, Mr Officer. I'm a tourist — an English gentleman — and this I take to be the Qaeen's highway." " dome, come, none of your nonsense. I believe I know my duty. Answer my questions at once, or come along with me to the ■tation-house." Something metallic olinked as he spoke, lending the suggestion of a castanet accompaniment to bis harsh syllables. " Surely it is not possible that you think of putting handcuffs on me I This proceeding is entirely unwarranted. I think I am entitled to an explanation — " " Will yon give me your name and open the sack, before I make you my prisoner ? Say yes or no at once; I've no time for humbuggin."' "There, there's the sack and here's the key — and there's my card. But I must say I thought the public roads in Ireland were free to the English people." " I'm acting according to law— and the law is made in England," returned the policeman sternly, as he ransacked the " grip " in March of treasonable documents, dynamite and war material. " That'll do, now ; you may p ss on." " Oh, thank you ! But suppose lam stopped again by another officer, am I to be subjected to a similar examination ? " 41 You're liable to it as long as you go about in this suspicious way. I'd strongly advise you to get to your hotel as soon as you can and put on something that's not so noticeable —^specially while you're carrying a hand-bag." 11 I've been the viotim of a gross outrage," said Mr Thorpley Vane indignantly to his friend, Professor Zug from Dat iDgen, with whom be had come over to spend a holiday at 8t Anne's sanitorium—"a very great indignity, my dear professor. I have actually been stopped on the Q -eaa's highway by a policeman, and searched." "So too have I, mine vriend," replied the professor. •' Tbe police here are no better than they are in Bdrlin. Police are all ■laves of monarchs ; and all monarchs are despots ; so are all governments. I would sweep them all away, I would put in their place tbe grand socialism.'' Mr Thorpley Vane was a member of the undergraduates' philosophical society at Oxford. Often tbe debates at the society's meetings dealt with socialism, and even more violent revolutionary theses, with all the freedom of omniscient academic discussion. He was consequently quite an adept in debate. Here was new ground for him. Tbe opportunity of studying an agrarian system ou its own ground, and tbe methods of a paternal government under which that system grew, at once struck him as an advantage not to be despised. " The etbuic and anthropological conditions are most favourable," he said to Professor Zug." "In the action of great economic and political tests upon a crude and primitive society such a* we find it here, we shall be enabled to watch tbe conUct of,ihe present with the past — the living with tbe dead, so to speak." "That vill be vary interesting," replied the professor, with •nthnaiam. Not far from St Anne's, on the road toward Mac room, stood the cottage wherein Moya Connor «nd her parents dwelt. Attached to the cottage was a farm— a snug one of a c uple of huDdred acres. In »11 the barony there was not so trim a cottage or a better kept farm than Bat Connor's, Twice be got the pnza at the annual ■hows of the agricultural society for neatness and good farming. Bat Cod nor was no less respected than he was envied by his neighbour. He was a sap rior man, not in point of education, but in self-respect. He was a rigid total abstainer and a most exemplary Catholic.

A fiae type of the stalwart Irishman, physically, waft^fcsj Connor. He had served a few yean io the army, and this had set up bis physique. Bat it bad also gained him a ballet in the cranium, which, being lodged in one of the most inaccessible bony processes, never could be extracted. Bat as long as he refrained from nervous excitement ha suffered no inconvenience nor ran any risk from the imbedded souvenir of battle. Neither did it afl ct his countenance or bis good spirits. His large, pleasant features ever wors a smile of content, and h« was always ready with some racy jokt or reminiscence of the army whenever the cue was gaiety, But it was kaown that in addition to the bullet he had bad a sun-8 roke while serving in India. Hence there were three g<od reasons why Bat Connor should rigidly adhere to tht temperance vow be had made away back in the forties, when the great Fat er Mathew was rousing the country by his apostolic labours. The money with which Bat Connor had been enabled to purchase the good will of the farm from its former tenant, Neal Downey, on bis emigration to the United Statts, had been made at the Australian gold-fields, in the office of the governmental inspector. Tueemplojei thsre were all military men of the retired lie', and of good character. Bat Connor had been twice married. Moya so much resembled her dead Irish mother that she was inexpressibly dear to him. And indeed his second wife, who was a Eurasian, half English, half Bajput, did not seem to be lacking in love for her somewhat wilful and roguish step-daughter. Moya's propensity for fan sometimes, however, went far enough to cause friction. Those who are not of a naturally gay or humorous temperament rarely appreciate to the foil the value of this attribute in others. She was a woman of moods, difficult to understand. Usually reticent, retiring, and of quiet ways, she at times w»8 seized with fits of unaccountable depression, the re-action from which usually led to the extreme of a strange and irrepressible gaiety. Sometimes thett) little idiosyncrasies produced a passing cloud in the domestic realm for Bat Connor, but bis own good spirits and cheerful ways soon made wife and daughter forget their little poiats of friction and tarn with renewed zest to the routine of daily life in the house and about the farm. Jemmy Punch was a great favourite with Bat Connor, and with Moya— well, it is said iv Ireland that girls "take after" tatir fathers in many peculiarities. Bat Connor had a fund of anecdotes of the outside world, which the guide bad never s«en. But tbe guide had a wonderfully receptive memory, and a power of imagination capable of tiansforming a very bald fact into a very curly-headed sprite of romance ; and those wonderful tales with which he often imposed upon the ingenuous visitors to the castle of MacOarthy Mora were for the most part spun out of his own fancy, on the mci« strength of a suggestion found in Bat Connor's experiences With Mrs Connor Jemmy Punch was n>t so great a favourite as with the others of the family and honsebold. There was something too subtle in bis humour for her intelligence. The vague ess of tht Oriental mind predominated too much in her being to enable her to sympathise with the profound intricacies of Celtic wit. Sbe had at first believed too imp icitly tbe marvellous tales which he wove from the loom of bis fancy, bu', finding herself imposed upon, even though harmlessly, she entertained a feeling of distrust henceforward, and her manner toward tbe guide grew reserved and taciturn. This circumstance did not pray much on Jemmy Punch's mind ; &s long as he was welcomed by the master of the house and by Moya he felt bis ground secure. Other young men — farmers and cattle dealers— dropped in there frequently too, on business or on pleasure and he was shrewd enough to perceive that he himself appeared to get a warmer welcome than any of them. To one member of tbe household at least Jemmy Punch appear- d to be a being somewhat akin to a demigod. Tbe boy Owen, Moyit's step-brother, seemed to live an enchanted life listening to Jemmy* wonderful stories He was a creature of romance, and tales of the marvellous were bis favourite mental food. Jemmy was bis co. fiient in everything — his oracle as well as bis mind's depository. All the woods i-mi fields and groves in and around Blarney Jemmy had people^ wiih an invisible host of spirits or immaterial beings, all of which were familiar to Owney. He knew the fairies of 'the fort" who came out to dance itißide the magic ring there, by moonlight, and be knew the banshee who wailed nightly on the topmoßt window in tbe tower of the castle, near the cres^e' — 'he banshee <i the MucOarthy Mores. He knew the phooka who fldW over tbe lakes and thf glens at night, and he knew the lepnchauns who plied tbe shoemaking trade under tbe harebells and tbe bur docks. He wondered at Moya laughing at these things when be told her about them— although she still kept asking him what cUe did Jemmy Punch tell bim. Although the guide was a born story-teller, oveifl >wing with words when words were needed, his flow of speech was always kept well in control. He did not tbink it necessary to talk ahoaf cv. rj« thing he knew. Hundry things were happening there, of which he was well aware, and over which he was discreetly silent. Of the nature of these things, tne abnormal activity of the police, as brit fly indicated in the stoppage of Mr V*ne, may give Borne idea. Secret drilling was going on all over the country ; revolutionary ageuts were going around ; arms were being smuggled jn from abroad. Under tbe quiet, smiling face of tbe country smouldered the fires of a political volcano. QTo be concluded.}