The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 16 August 1917, Page 3

The Storyteller

(By D. P. Conyngham, LL.D.)

THE O'DONNELLS OF GLEN COTTAGE A TALE OF THE FAMINE YEARS IN IRELAND.

CHAPTER XL— FOSTER BROTHERSMR. BARTER'S EXPLOITS. Frank found the party in the kitchen in the height of their enjoyment the laugh, and jest, and voice of the players rose from the table, while high above the rest rose Shemus-a-Clough's voice chanting one of his hunting songs. Frank beheld all this from the hall, where he stood a moment to listen to the merry voices of the party. "Poor souls!" thought he; "one would think that they never knew care nor sorrow, so gay and light-hearted are they. There are some of these poor fellows, now, under notice to quit their happy homes, and yet they can laugh and sing, as if they were secure from any landlord power. How would I feel if I were to be turned out of my fine house and place; and, who knows, in this land of uncertainties ! Good God ! I fear I could not bear it so quietly. Yet it is hard to know them ; there is within them a deep current of underfeeling; they could be gay and light-hearted as now, and in an hour again they could band together in the wild spirit of self-revenge. Heigh ho ! I pity the poor fellows if they should be turned out; and the Cor macks, my foster-brothers, what would become of them, and of their poor mother, my old nurse, and their fair sister; well, they shan't want while I am alive, anyway." So saying, Frank opened the door, and passed into the kitchen. "Arrah ! welcome, Misther Frank, welcome," was the exclamation that greeted him on his entrance. "Thank you, boys, thank you, how are you?" said he, shaking hands with the brothers, James and .John Cormack. It is necessary that we should give some account of the relationship, if I may so call it, that existed between Frank and the Cormacks. This might be inferred from Frank's soliloquy at the door. The tie of fostership is, or at least was, held as sacred as that of natural brothers. We have several instances of foster-brothers exposing, in fact losing their lives, in order to protect their wealthier relations. In some work on '9B I have read a very feeling account of how a young insurgent gentleman was taken prisoner, and brought before the next magistrate; of course his committal was at once made out, but, it being too late—it was, on account of the disturbed state of the country, and the small force at the magistrate's disposal—thought, better to detain him closely guarded, until morning. The prisoner recognised in the, butler his fosterbrother. The latter did not pretend to notice him. "Alas!" thought, he, as he stretched in his little prison, "I am forsaken by the world; come death, I am ready for you !" He heard singing and revelry going on through the house all night. "These can laugh and be merry, while they hold revel over a poor wretch that is to die on the gallows," said he to himself. At length the butler came in with something for him to eat. lie looked at him "And have you, too, brother, forsaken me?" said he. The other placed his fingers on his lips, in token of silence. "Sthrip off smart," whispered he; "I have drugged their drink ; the guards are all drunk or sleeping ; put on my clothes, and act as butler; the hall door is open, and pass out." "No," said the other; "it would endanger you they might make a victim of you."

"Not at all, man; herej I have them off; what would they do with me; they will treat it as a good joke when you are gone. Come, off smart; on wid them; there is not a moment to be lost !" They exchanged clothes, and as he passsed out with the dishes, he wrung the brave fellow's hand, exclaiming: "God bless you ! I'll reward you well." "Pooh," said the other, "that will do: pass on now, and don't appear concerned." He was challenged by the sentinel, and even by the party in the parlor; yet he stood the test. As soon as the butler heard the hall-door close after him, he breathed freely. "Thank God! he is safe ! I might as well say my prayers now; for I know the men I have to deal with too well to expect mercy ; no matter, he's saved !" When the magistrate discovered the trick that had been played upon him, there was no end to his anger; he at once ordered the poor fellow to execution. When going to the gallows, the magistrate asked him—- " Why did you do it?" "Sir," said he, "I am his foster-brother!" His death did not pass unavenged : for, after some years, the young gentleman returned from the Continent; he challenged the magistrate to a duel. They had selected a retired part, near a plantation. They took their positions on two mounds. The magistrate was shot through the breast. After falling, the young man walked over to him, and whispered into his ear: "You recollect John Mahon. he was my fosterbrother his grave is now drinking your blood you murdered him, you did ; but he is avenged. I have nursed my vengeance for years : I have practised until I ccould put a ball where I like ; now, I have sweet revenge upon his murderer. And, if there be any one here," looking fiercely around him, "that says he was not murdered, let him take your place, you dog." Such was the affection existing between fosterbrothers. Whether it is so fervid now or not, T cannot say ; perhaps, like a good many of our old Irish customs and habits, our very impulsive affections have given way to the cold, soulless philosophy of English innovators. This was the kind of relationship that existed between Frank and the Cormacks. The Cormacks held a small farm of about ten acres. They never worked for hire, as their little farm gave them sufficient employment; they helped Mr. O'Donnell during his busy season, for which they received more than an equivalent in various ways —such as a plough to till their garden, a present of a cow, a few lambs or pigs, as they wanted them. With all O'Donnell's kindness, it is no wonder that the Cormacks were what is called well-to-do in the world ; besides, they were sober, industrious young men. After some commonplace conversation with those in the kitchen, Frank remarked : "We have old Mr. Raker above half-drunk. He is as usual killing every one. I was thinking it would be a good joke if two of you would meet him when going home, and take his pistols and money from him : we would have such a good laugh at him." "I and Neddy Burkem will go," said James Cormack. "Well, I don't care," said Burkem. "But he does be so often at Mr. Ellis's that he might know me: besides he might fire." "No danger of that," said Frank; "I have drawn the balls from his pistols ; besides, he will be so much frightened I am sure he won't know any one." "Let another of the boys go with you, James," said Burkem. "Burkem is afeered ; I'll go, Misther Frank," said another. " Oh, divil afeerd," said Burkem : "but you know if he should chance to know me, I was undone." "A four-year-old child needn't be afeerd of Slob Baker," said the Rover. "Did you ever hear what they did to him at Mr. Lane's?" "Shure young Mr. Lane vexed him one night until

they got him up to fight a duel. Well becomes Mr. Lane, he loaded his pistol with blood, and put nothing but powder in Mr. Baker's. They fired across the table. When Baker saw himself all covered with blood, he kicked, and tumbled, and swore he was shot. 'Oh, Lane,' says he, 'you have me. murthered. God have marcy on me a poor sinner.' They all laughed at him. 'Oh! laugh and be ,' said he. ' You can easily laugh at a dead man,' 'Ha!ha !ha ! You're not dead at all man,' said Mr. Lane; 'get up, man alive.' ' Dead—as dead as a door nail,, man if I weren't, I'd have you shot for laughing at a poor devil you are after murdering.' 'Ha! ha! ha! Where do you feel the pain?' 'Where do I feel the pain? Shure a man never feels pain after being shot until he's dead. Shure lam all covered wid blood—isn't that enuff ? You kilt me ; for you hadn't any ball in my pistol, for if you had you were shot.' 'No, nor in mine either; there was only blood in it.' Do you say so? Gog! maybe I'm not dead afther all.' 'Divil a dead. Get up to a glass of punch.' 'Well, well; did any one ever hear the likes ! When I saw the blood I thought I was done for. Down wid the decanthur !' They then set him drunk, and rubbed his face with lamp-black; so they took him up to the drawing-room to dance wid the ladies. Shure if they didn't laugh at him, nabocklish." The parlor bell was rung. "Run, Mary Cahill; and none of your sly ways there with James; and bring them up more water. I know that is what they want. And, Cormack, let you and another of the boys get two peeled cabbage stumps, and meet him at the gate. I'll go up to hurry him off." When Frank returned to the parlor he found his father and Mr. Baker taking a parting glass. "Come, Frank, boy, take a dock a dim-is." "You don't mean to go home, Mr. Baker? It is rather late and not too safe to travel." "Safe! boy, safe! That's what makes me go, to show you and the pa , robbers, I mean, that I'm not afraid; order my horse, Frank; order my horse." • "Mary," said Frank to Mary Cahill, who had brought in the hot water, "Mary, tell one of the boys to bring out Mr. Baker's horse. "Yes, sir." As Mr. Baker rode from the house he held the following bit of conversation with himself. "I think I was a deuce of a fool, an ass, to say the least of it, to leave to-night; but then they'd say I was afraid; ay, afraid, and that wouldn't do, Mr. Baker. Afraid ! who said I was afraid ; who dare say it, I want to know ? God protect me! What the devil is that though ? Oh ! only an ass—ha ! out of my way. Well, if I meet any fellows will I shoot them? Sure they'd shoot me, but then I'd be a deuce of a fool to lose my life on account of two pistols and a few pounds. No, I am at the gate now, I " "Deliver your arms and money or you're a dead man!" was shouted from behind the piers, and two wicked looking things, guns, no doubt, looked out at him as if they would take great pleasure in cracking at him. "Ye-ye-yes! gentlemen, fo-fo-for the love of God, don't shoot me! here they are," and he handed out his pistols and money. "Ride back again now." "Ye-ye-yes! gentlemen; Lord spare your lives for sparing me." Mr. Baker thundered up to the hall door, and knocked fiercely; Frank made his appearance. "O, Frank, Frank, for the love of God, hurry! Call out the men ! I was robbed ; about twenty men attacked me. I shot two, anyway; I think three; two for certain; then they overpowered me, but I made my escape from the pa , robbers, I mean, robbers, Frank, robbers. There are four shot, anyway; four of the pa , robbers, I mean. The government will hear all this in the.morning. I will have them taken like the pa , robbers, I mean, I shot coming from Cashel."

"Right, Mr. Baker," said Frank, "I am sure you will get a pension; come in, anyway; you won't go home to-night, now ?" "No, Frank; no, boy." "Come in, sir." "What are these?" said Mr. Baker, as he saw his purse and pistols on the parlor table. "I think you ought to know them," said Frank. "Ha, ha, ha, two of the boys got cabbage stumps, it appears, and robbed you, ha! ha! ha!" "Gog! I have my purse and pistols anyway: you think I didn't know them, Frank, right well a good joke, by Jove : ha ! ha ! ha ! I'd like to shoot your servants, wouldn't I ; catch me at that, boy ! ha ! ha ! ha ! Well for them it wasn't any one else was in it; ha! ha ! ha ! here, get up the decanter, ana some hot water ring the bell, Frank !" Mary Cahill made her appearance. "More hot water,,Mary," said Frank. "See, Mary, try is there any cold meat for a snack," said Mr'. Baker. "Ha! ha! ha! faith, it was a good joke. Give me the hand, Frank, they may thank being your servants for having whole skins. That's a good girl, Mary: is that hot? It is: now, Mary, what about the meat?" "I fear there is none clone, sir." "No matter, get a chopfine mutton ! Nothing makes a man drink but to eat enough—"eat, drink, and be merry," as his lordship says ; you know, Frank, we are particular friends." Perhaps we have devoted too much of our space to Mr. Baker. However, he belonged to a class, now nearly, if not altogether, extinct. Many of my readers will, no doubt, feel surprised that the craft of his profession did not, like magic tricks, change his very nature, and make something of him. All I can say to this is that he was not fit for his profession, nor his profession for him. Like most, I might say nearly all, of my characters, Mr. Baker is no ideal being created to heighten the plot: no, 1 give him in propria persona. "I think, Kate," said Frank, at the breakfast table next morning, "as we had some rain last night, we must give up our little picnic to Glenbower!" "I fear so." said Kate, looking disappointed. "I will tell you what we will do: Willy and 1 will go shooting until dinner-time, and then we will spend the evening in the summer-house." "Very well," said Kate. So Frank and Willy set out, with their dogs and guns. "I must pass by Ballybruff, to see my poor nurse, Willy,-" said Frank. Mrs. Cormack's house was a nice clean one. It was surrounded with larch and poplar trees. The walls were rough-cast, and three real glass windows gave light and air to the interior. The yard was gravelled, and free from sink holes, or any nuisance of the kind. Nelly Cormack was very busy in the yard, feeding a whole regiment of poultry, that clattered and cackled about her. "Good morning, Mary," said Frank: "old nurse doesn't see me yet, she is so busy at her stocking. How are you?" said he, coining up, and blocking up the door near her. Mrs. Cormack raised her head, and pulled her specks over her nose. "Arrah ! is this Misther Frank?" "It is, ma'am: and this is my young friend, Mr. Shea." "Shure ye're welcome ; sit down, gintlemen : Mary, get thim chairs." Mary dusted two suggawn-bottomed chairs, and placed them near the fire. Willy cast his eyes about the clean, tidy kitchen, with its rows of tins and plates and noggins, all as bright and clean as sand could make them. "This is a comfortable house you have, Mrs. Cormack," said Willy. "It is indeed, sir," said she; "but what good is that: shure we are sarved wid an ejectment," and Mrs. Cormack sighed and wiped her eyes.

"Do you owe much rent?" said lie. "Only a year's, and I have it all barrin' three pounds ; but what good is that; I fear they won't take it; it is said that they mean to throw us all out, for ' to make large farms, as they did to the Croghlawn tenants." "I hope not," said Frank; "they cannot be so cruel as that, to toss out a poor widow, that pays her rent." "I hope not, sir, I hope not; but they have done as bad. If they were to throw me out I would not live long; mavrone, it would be the heart-break, where my father and mother, and my poor man all died, if I don't be allowed to close my eyes there." Mrs. Cormack wiped her eyes, for a mournful tear rose from the heart to them, and from them along her withered cheeks. "Oh! offer them the rent, nurse," said Frank; "I will see if I can do anything for you; they cannot refuse it. "I will, alanna, as soon as we sell the slip of a pig, to make up the three pounds, and may God soften their hearts to take it." "Don't sell your pig, Mrs. Cormack," said Frank; "1 will be your creditor, until you get richer," and he placed three pounds in her lap. "I won't take it, Misther Frank: it is too good you are." "No, now, you must keep it; it is my Christmas present to my old nurse ; and God knows, Mrs.- Cormack, I would not have a happy Christmas if you were disturbed." "God bless you ! Misther Frank : it's you have the good heart God will reward you, Frank, for happy are they who feel for the widow and the orphan." "Well, Mary," said Frank, in order to change the conversation, "I hope you don't be courting the boys yet." "A little, sir, said Mary, looking most coquettish ly at Frank, and then tossing back her hair with a shake of her head. Mary was evidently a coquette : it was in the sparkle of her eye, it was in the toss of her head, it was in her pretty dimpled face, it was in every braid of her auburn hair. "I fear, Mary, you are a coquette: take care that von don't burn your wings like the moth," said Frank. "O ! sorra fear of that, Mister Frank; I only pay back the boys wid their own coin ; they think, wid their palavering, they have nothing to do but coax poor innocent colleens : faith, they'll have two dishes to wash wid me, I am thinkin'." "Take care, Mary, take care: we are often caught when we least expect it : it is time for us to go. now, Willy; good-bye, Mary, and take care of the boys," said Frank, extending his hand with a smile to her, "and you, nurse, good-bye." " Take care, yourself," said Mary, with a sly wink at him. "I don't know is it devotion takes you to see your uncle so often : ha ! ha ! ha ! take that." Frank blushed up. " Ha ! Mary, you are too many for me, I see.'.' "Don't mind that helther-skelther, Misther Frank," said Mrs. Cormack. "I believe you are right, ma'am," said Frank, "so good day." "Good-day, and God bless ye!" replied Mrs. Cormack. "Go to Clerihan on Sunday; there does be some one in a front pew there, looking out for Misther Frank," said Mary. "She is a pretty girl, Frank, and can banter well," said Willy. "She is," said Frank, with a sigh. " I think there were some grains of truth in her bantering, though," said Willy with a smile; "at least, Frank, you got very red in a minute." "Hem! maybe so," said Frank: "I didn't turn poet yet though, Willy, and begin to make songs, and call her 'Cathleen dear'."

It was Willy's turn now to blush. "Oh, don't change colors that way, .man," said Prank; "you see we both have our secrets; and, Willy, my dear fellow," said Frank taking him by the hand,, "if I have judged your secret rightly, I will respect it, and be your friend, too." (To be continued.)