BILLY MALOWNEY'S TASTE OF LOVE AND GLORY.
Let the reader fancy a soft summer evening, the fresh dews falling onbush and flower. The sun has just gone down, and the thrilling vespersof thrushes and blackbirds ring with a wild joy through the saddenedair; the west is piled with fantastic clouds, and clothed in tints ofcrimson and amber, melting away into a wan green, and so eastward intothe deepest blue, through which soon the stars will begin to peep.
Let him fancy himself seated upon the low mossy wall of an ancientchurchyard, where hundreds of grey stones rise above the sward,under the fantastic branches of two or three half-withered ash-trees,spreading their arms in everlasting love and sorrow over the dead.
The narrow road upon which I and my companion await the tax-cart thatis to carry me and my basket, with its rich fruitage of speckled trout,away, lies at his feet, and far below spreads an undulating plain,rising westward again into soft hills, and traversed (every here andthere visibly) by a winding stream which, even through the mists ofevening, catches and returns the funereal glories of the skies.
As the eye traces its wayward wanderings, it loses them for a momentin the heaving verdure of white-thorns and ash, from among which floatsfrom some dozen rude chimneys, mostly unseen, the transparent blue filmof turf smoke. There we know, although we cannot see it, the steep oldbridge of Carrickadrum spans the river; and stretching away far to theright the valley of Lisnamoe: its steeps and hollows, its stragglinghedges, its fair-green, its tall scattered trees, and old grey tower,are disappearing fast among the discoloured tints and haze of evening.
Those landmarks, as we sit listlessly expecting the arrival of ourmodest conveyance, suggest to our companion--a bare-legged Celticbrother of the gentle craft, somewhat at the wrong side of forty, witha turf-coloured caubeen, patched frieze, a clear brown complexion,dark-grey eyes, and a right pleasant dash of roguery in hisfeatures--the tale, which, if the reader pleases, he is welcome to hearalong with me just as it falls from the lips of our humble comrade.
His words I can give, but your own fancy must supply the advantagesof an intelligent, expressive countenance, and, what is perhaps harderstill, the harmony of his glorious brogue, that, like the melodies ofour own dear country, will leave a burden of mirth or of sorrow withnearly equal propriety, tickling the diaphragm as easily as it playswith the heart-strings, and is in itself a national music that, I trust,may never, never--scouted and despised though it be--never cease, likethe lost tones of our harp, to be heard in the fields of my country, inwelcome or endearment, in fun or in sorrow, stirring the hearts of Irishmen and Irish women.
My friend of the caubeen and naked shanks, then, commenced, andcontinued his relation, as nearly as possible, in the following words:
Av coorse ye often heerd talk of Billy Malowney, that lived by thebridge of Carrickadrum. 'Leum-a-rinka' was the name they put on him,he was sich a beautiful dancer. An' faix, it's he was the rale sportin'boy, every way--killing the hares, and gaffing the salmons, an' fightin'the men, an' funnin' the women, and coortin' the girls; an' be thesame token, there was not a colleen inside iv his jurisdiction but wasbreakin' her heart wid the fair love iv him.
Well, this was all pleasant enough, to be sure, while it lasted; butinhuman beings is born to misfortune, an' Bill's divarshin was not tolast always. A young boy can't be continially coortin' and kissin' thegirls (an' more's the pity) without exposin' himself to the most eminentparril; an' so signs all' what should happen Billy Malowney himself, butto fall in love at last wid little Molly Donovan, in Coolnamoe.
I never could ondherstand why in the world it was Bill fell in love widHER, above all the girls in the country. She was not within four stoneweight iv being as fat as Peg Brallaghan; and as for redness in theface, she could not hould a candle to Judy Flaherty. (Poor Judy! shewas my sweetheart, the darlin', an' coorted me constant, ever antil shemarried a boy of the Butlers; an' it's twenty years now since she wasburied under the ould white-thorn in Garbally. But that's no matther!)
Well, at any rate, Molly Donovan tuck his fancy, an' that's everything!She had smooth brown hair--as smooth as silk-an' a pair iv soft coaxin'eyes--an' the whitest little teeth you ever seen; an', bedad, she wasevery taste as much in love wid himself as he was.
Well, now, he was raly stupid wid love: there was not a bit of funleft in him. He was good for nothin' an airth bud sittin' under bushes,smokin' tobacky, and sighin' till you'd wonder how in the world he gotwind for it all.
An', bedad, he was an illigant scholar, moreover; an', so signs, it'smany's the song he made about her; an' if you'd be walkin' in theevening, a mile away from Carrickadrum, begorra you'd hear him singingout like a bull, all across the country, in her praises.
Well, ye may be sure, ould Tim Donovan and the wife was not a bit toowell plased to see Bill Malowney coortin' their daughter Molly; for,do ye mind, she was the only child they had, and her fortune wasthirty-five pounds, two cows, and five illigant pigs, three iron potsand a skillet, an' a trifle iv poultry in hand; and no one knew how muchbesides, whenever the Lord id be plased to call the ould people out ofthe way into glory!
So, it was not likely ould Tim Donovan id be fallin' in love wid poorBill Malowney as aisy as the girls did; for, barrin' his beauty, an' hisgun, an' his dhudheen, an' his janius, the divil a taste of property ivany sort or description he had in the wide world!
Well, as bad as that was, Billy would not give in that her father andmother had the smallest taste iv a right to intherfare, good or bad.
'An' you're welcome to rayfuse me,' says he, 'whin I ax your lave,'says he; 'an' I'll ax your lave,' says he, 'whenever I want to coortyourselves,' says he; 'but it's your daughter I'm coortin' at thepresent,' says he, 'an that's all I'll say,' says he; 'for I'd as soontake a doase of salts as be discoursin' ye,' says he.
So it was a rale blazin' battle betune himself and the ould people;an', begorra, there was no soart iv blaguardin' that did not pass betunethem; an' they put a solemn injection on Molly again seein' him ormeetin' him for the future.
But it was all iv no use. You might as well be pursuadin' the birds aginflying, or sthrivin' to coax the stars out iv the sky into your hat, asbe talking common sinse to them that's fairly bothered and burstin'wid love. There's nothin' like it. The toothache an' cholic together idcompose you betther for an argyment than itself. It leaves you fit fornothin' bud nansinse.
It's stronger than whisky, for one good drop iv it will make you drunkfor one year, and sick, begorra, for a dozen.
It's stronger than the say, for it'll carry you round the world an'never let you sink, in sunshine or storm; an', begorra, it's strongerthan Death himself, for it is not afeard iv him, bedad, but dares him inevery shape.
But lovers has quarrels sometimes, and, begorra, when they do, you'da'most imagine they hated one another like man and wife. An' so, signsan', Billy Malowney and Molly Donovan fell out one evening at ould TomDundon's wake; an' whatever came betune them, she made no more aboutit but just draws her cloak round her, and away wid herself and thesarvant-girl home again, as if there was not a corpse, or a fiddle, or ataste of divarsion in it.
Well, Bill Malowney follied her down the boreen, to try could hedeludher her back again; but, if she was bitther before, she gave itto him in airnest when she got him alone to herself, and to that degreethat he wished her safe home, short and sulky enough, an' walked backagain, as mad as the devil himself, to the wake, to pay a respect topoor Tom Dundon.
Well, my dear, it was aisy seen there was something wrong avid BillyMalowney, for he paid no attintion the rest of the evening to any soartof divarsion but the whisky alone; an' every glass he'd drink it's whathe'd be wishing the divil had the women, an' the worst iv bad luck toall soarts iv courting, until, at last, wid the goodness iv the sperits,an' the badness iv his temper, an' the constant flusthration iv cursin',he grew all as one as you might say almost, saving your presince,bastely drunk!
Well, who should he fall in wid, in that childish condition, as he w
asdeploying along the road almost as straight as the letter S, an' cursin'the girls, an' roarin' for more whisky, but the recruiting-sargent ivthe Welsh Confusileers.
So, cute enough, the sargent begins to convarse him, an' it was not longuntil he had him sitting in Murphy's public-house, wid an elegant dandyiv punch before him, an' the king's money safe an' snug in the lowestwrinkle of his breeches-pocket.
So away wid him, and the dhrums and fifes playing, an' a dozen moreunforthunate bliggards just listed along with him, an' he shakin' handswid the sargent, and swearin' agin the women every minute, until, be thetime he kem to himself, begorra, he was a good ten miles on the road toDublin, an' Molly and all behind him.
It id be no good tellin' you iv the letters he wrote to her from thebarracks there, nor how she was breaking her heart to go and see himjust wanst before he'd go; but the father an' mother would not allow ivit be no manes.
An' so in less time than you'd be thinkin' about it, the colonel had himpolished off into it rale elegant soger, wid his gun exercise, and hisbagnet exercise, and his small sword, and broad sword, and pistol anddagger, an' all the rest, an' then away wid him on boord a man-a-war tofurrin parts, to fight for King George agin Bonyparty, that was great inthem times.
Well, it was very soon in everyone's mouth how Billy Malowney was batin'all before him, astonishin' the ginerals, an frightenin' the inimy tothat degree, there was not a Frinchman dare say parley voo outside ofthe rounds iv his camp.
You may be sure Molly was proud iv that same, though she never spoke aword about it; until at last the news kem home that Billy Malowney wassurrounded an' murdered by the Frinch army, under Napoleon Bonypartyhimself. The news was brought by Jack Brynn Dhas, the peddlar, that saidhe met the corporal iv the regiment on the quay iv Limerick, an' how hebrought him into a public-house and thrated him to a naggin, and got allthe news about poor Billy Malowney out iv him while they war dhrinkin'it; an' a sorrowful story it was.
The way it happened, accordin' as the corporal tould him, was jist howthe Jook iv Wellington detarmined to fight a rale tarin' battle wid theFrinch, and Bonyparty at the same time was aiqually detarmined to fightthe divil's own scrimmidge wid the British foorces.
Well, as soon as the business was pretty near ready at both sides,Bonyparty and the general next undher himself gets up behind a bush, tolook at their inimies through spyglasses, and thry would they know anyiv them at the distance.
'Bedadad!' says the gineral, afther a divil iv a long spy, 'I'd bet halfa pint,' says he, 'that's Bill Malowney himself,' says he, 'down there,'says he.
'Och!' says Bonypart, 'do you tell me so?' says he--'I'm fairlyheart-scalded with that same Billy Malowney,' says he; 'an' I think if Iwas wanst shut iv him I'd bate the rest iv them aisy,' says he.
'I'm thinking so myself,' says the gineral, says he; 'but he's a toughbye,' says he.
'Tough!' says Bonypart, 'he's the divil,' says he.
'Begorra, I'd be better plased.' says the gineral, says he, 'to takehimself than the Duke iv Willinton,' says he, 'an' Sir Edward Blakeneyinto the bargain,' says he.
'The Duke of Wellinton and Gineral Blakeney,' says Bonypart, 'is greatfor planning, no doubt,' says he; 'but Billy Malowney's the boy forACTION,' says he--'an' action's everything, just now,' says he.
So wid that Bonypart pushes up his cocked hat, and begins scratching hishead, and thinning and considherin' for the bare life, and at last sayshe to the gineral:
'Gineral Commandher iv all the Foorces,' says he, 'I've hot it,' sayshe: 'ordher out the forlorn hope,' says he, 'an' give them as muchpowdher, both glazed and blasting,' says he, 'an' as much bullets doye mind, an' swan-dhrops an' chain-shot,' says he, 'an' all soorts ivwaipons an' combustables as they can carry; an' let them surround BillMalowney,' says he, 'an' if they can get any soort iv an advantage,'says he, 'let them knock him to smithereens,' says he, 'an' then takehim presner,' says he; 'an' tell all the bandmen iv the Frinch army,'says he, 'to play up "Garryowen," to keep up their sperits,' says he,'all the time they're advancin'. An' you may promise them anything youlike in my name,' says he; for, by my sowl, I don't think its many ivthem 'ill come back to throuble us,' says he, winkin' at him.
So away with the gineral, an' he ordhers out the forlorn hope, all'tells the band to play, an' everything else, just as Bonypart desiredhim. An' sure enough, whin Billy Malowney heerd the music where hewas standin' taking a blast of the dhudheen to compose his mind formurdherin' the Frinchmen as usual, being mighty partial to that tuneintirely, he cocks his ear a one side, an' down he stoops to listen tothe music; but, begorra, who should be in his rare all the time but aFrinch grannideer behind a bush, and seeing him stooped in a convanientforum, bedad he let flies at him sthraight, and fired him right forwardbetween the legs an' the small iv the back, glory be to God! with whatthey call (saving your presence) a bum-shell.
Well, Bill Malowney let one roar out iv him, an' away he rowled over thefield iv battle like a slitther (as Bonypart and the Duke iv Wellington,that was watching the manoeuvres from a distance, both consayved) intoglory.
An' sure enough the Frinch was overjoyed beyant all bounds, an' smallblame to them--an' the Duke of Wellington, I'm toult, was never all outthe same man sinst.
At any rate, the news kem home how Billy Malowney was murdhered by theFrinch in furrin parts.
Well, all this time, you may be sure, there was no want iv boys comin'to coort purty Molly Donovan; but one way ar another, she alwayskept puttin' them off constant. An' though her father and mother wasnathurally anxious to get rid of her respickably, they did not like tomarry her off in spite iv her teeth.
An' this way, promising one while and puttin' it off another, sheconthrived to get on from one Shrove to another, until near seven yearswas over and gone from the time when Billy Malowney listed for furrinsarvice.
It was nigh hand a year from the time whin the news iv Leum-a-rinkabein' killed by the Frinch came home, an' in place iv forgettin' him,as the saisins wint over, it's what Molly was growin' paler and morelonesome every day, antil the neighbours thought she was fallin' into adecline; and this is the way it was with her whin the fair of Lisnamoekem round.
It was a beautiful evenin', just at the time iv the reapin' iv the oats,and the sun was shinin' through the red clouds far away over the hillsiv Cahirmore.
Her father an' mother, an' the boys an' girls, was all away down in thefair, and Molly Sittin' all alone on the step of the stile, listeningto the foolish little birds whistlin' among the leaves--and the sound ofthe mountain-river flowin' through the stones an' bushes--an' the crowsflyin' home high overhead to the woods iv Glinvarlogh--an' down in theglen, far away, she could see the fair-green iv Lisnamoe in the mist,an' sunshine among the grey rocks and threes--an' the cows an' thehorses, an' the blue frieze, an' the red cloaks, an' the tents, an'the smoke, an' the ould round tower--all as soft an' as sorrowful as adhrame iv ould times.
An' while she was looking this way, an' thinking iv Leum-a-rinka--poorBill iv the dance, that was sleepin' in his lonesome glory in the fieldsiv Spain--she began to sing the song he used to like so well in the ouldtimes--
'Shule, shule, shale a-roon;'
an' when she ended the verse, what do you think but she heard a manlyvoice just at the other side iv the hedge, singing the last words overagain!
Well she knew it; her heart flutthered up like a little bird that idbe wounded, and then dhropped still in her breast. It was himself. In aminute he was through the hedge and standing before her.
'Leum!' says she.
'Mavourneen cuishla machree!' says he; and without another word theywere locked in one another's arms.
Well, it id only be nansinse for me thryin' an' tell ye all the foolishthings they said, and how they looked in one another's faces, an'laughed, an' cried, an' laughed again; and how, when they came tothemselves, and she was able at last to believe it was raly Billyhimself that was there, actially holdin' her hand, and lookin' in hereyes the same way as ever, bar
rin' he was browner and boulder, an' didnot, maybe, look quite as merry in himself as he used to do in formertimes--an' fondher for all, an' more lovin' than ever--how he tould herall about the wars wid the Frinchmen--an' how he was wounded, and leftfor dead in the field iv battle, bein' shot through the breast, and howhe was discharged, an' got a pinsion iv a full shillin' a day--andhow he was come back to liv the rest iv his days in the sweet glen ivLisnamoe, an' (if only SHE'D consint) to marry herself in spite iv themall.
Well, ye may aisily think they had plinty to talk about, afther sevenyears without once seein' one another; and so signs on, the time flew byas swift an' as pleasant as a bird on the wing, an' the sun wint down,an' the moon shone sweet an' soft instead, an' they two never knew aha'porth about it, but kept talkin' an' whisperin', an' whisperin' an'talkin'; for it's wondherful how often a tinder-hearted girl will bearto hear a purty boy tellin' her the same story constant over an' over;ontil at last, sure enough, they heerd the ould man himself comin' upthe boreen, singin' the 'Colleen Rue'--a thing he never done barrin'whin he had a dhrop in; an' the misthress walkin' in front iv him, an'two illigant Kerry cows he just bought in the fair, an' the sarvint boysdhriving them behind.
'Oh, blessed hour!' says Molly, 'here's my father.'
'I'll spake to him this minute,' says Bill.
'Oh, not for the world,' says she; 'he's singin' the "Colleen Rue,"'says she, 'and no one dar raison with him,' says she.
'An' where 'll I go, thin?' says he, 'for they're into the haggard antop iv us,' says he, 'an' they'll see me iv I lep through the hedge,'says he.
'Thry the pig-sty,' says she, 'mavourneen,' says she, 'in the name ivGod,' says she.
'Well, darlint,' says he, 'for your sake,' says he, 'I'll condescend tothem animals,' says he.
An' wid that he makes a dart to get in; bud, begorra, it was toolate--the pigs was all gone home, and the pig-sty was as full as theBurr coach wid six inside.
'Och! blur-an'-agers,' says he, 'there is not room for a suckin'-pig,'says he, 'let alone a Christian,' says he.
'Well, run into the house, Billy,' says she, 'this minute,' says she,'an' hide yourself antil they're quiet,' says she, 'an' thin you cansteal out,' says she, 'anknownst to them all,' says she.
'I'll do your biddin', says he, 'Molly asthore,' says he.
'Run in thin,' says she, 'an' I'll go an' meet them,' says she.
So wid that away wid her, and in wint Billy, an' where 'id he hidehimself bud in a little closet that was off iv the room where the ouldman and woman slep'. So he closed the doore, and sot down in an ouldchair he found there convanient.
Well, he was not well in it when all the rest iv them comes into thekitchen, an' ould Tim Donovan singin' the 'Colleen Rue' for the barelife, an' the rest iv them sthrivin' to humour him, and doin' exactlyeverything he bid them, because they seen he was foolish be the manes ivthe liquor.
Well, to be sure all this kep' them long enough, you may be sure, fromgoin' to bed, so that Billy could get no manner iv an advantage to getout iv the house, and so he sted sittin' in the dark closet in state,cursin' the 'Colleen Rue,' and wondherin' to the divil whin they'd getthe ould man into his bed. An', as if that was not delay enough,who should come in to stop for the night but Father O'Flaherty, ofCahirmore, that was buyin' a horse at the fair! An' av course, there wasa bed to be med down for his raverence, an' some other attintions; an' along discoorse himself an' ould Mrs. Donovan had about the slaughter ivBilly Malowney, an' how he was buried on the field iv battle; an' hisraverence hoped he got a dacent funeral, an' all the other convaniencesiv religion. An' so you may suppose it was pretty late in the nightbefore all iv them got to their beds.
Well, Tim Donovan could not settle to sleep at all at all, an' sohe kep' discoorsin' the wife about the new cows he bought, an' thestripphers he sould, an' so an for better than an hour, ontil from onething to another he kem to talk about the pigs, an' the poulthry; andat last, having nothing betther to discoorse about, he begun at hisdaughter Molly, an' all the heartscald she was to him be raison ivrefusin' the men. An' at last says he:
'I onderstand,' says he, 'very well how it is,' says he. 'It's how shewas in love,' says he, 'wid that bliggard, Billy Malowney,' says he,'bad luck to him!' says he; for by this time he was coming to hisraison.
'Ah!' says the wife, says she, 'Tim darlint, don't be cursin' themthat's dead an' buried,' says she.
'An' why would not I,' says he, 'if they desarve it?' says he.
'Whisht,' says she, 'an' listen to that,' says she. 'In the name of theBlessed Vargin,' says she, 'what IS it?' says she.
An' sure enough what was it but Bill Malowney that was dhroppin' asleepin the closet, an' snorin' like a church organ.
'Is it a pig,' says he, 'or is it a Christian?'
'Arra! listen to the tune iv it,' says she; 'sure a pig never done thelike is that,' says she.
'Whatever it is,' says he, 'it's in the room wid us,' says he. 'The Lordbe marciful to us!' says he.
'I tould you not to be cursin',' says she; 'bad luck to you,' says she,'for an ommadhaun!' for she was a very religious woman in herself.
'Sure, he's buried in Spain,' says he; 'an' it is not for one littleinnocent expression,' says he, 'he'd be comin' all that a way to annoythe house,' says he.
Well, while they war talkin', Bill turns in the way he was sleepin'into an aisier imposture; and as soon as he stopped snorin' ould TimDonovan's courage riz agin, and says he:
'I'll go to the kitchen,' says he, 'an' light a rish,' says he.
An' with that away wid him, an' the wife kep' workin' the beads all thetime, an' before he kem back Bill was snorin' as loud as ever.
'Oh! bloody wars--I mane the blessed saints about us!--that deadlysound,' says he; 'it's going on as lively as ever,' says he.
'I'm as wake as a rag,' says his wife, says she, 'wid the fairanasiness,' says she. 'It's out iv the little closet it's comin,' saysshe.
'Say your prayers,' says he, 'an' hould your tongue,' says he, 'whileI discoorse it,' says he. 'An' who are ye,' says he, 'in the name iv ofall the holy saints?' says he, givin' the door a dab iv a crusheen thatwakened Bill inside. 'I ax,' says he, 'who are you?' says he.
Well, Bill did not rightly remember where in the world he was, but hepushed open the door, an' says he:
'Billy Malowney's my name,' says he, 'an' I'll thank ye to tell me abetther,' says he.
Well, whin Tim Donovan heard that, an' actially seen that it was Billhimself that was in it, he had not strength enough to let a bawl out ivhim, but he dhropt the candle out iv his hand, an' down wid himself onhis back in the dark.
Well, the wife let a screech you'd hear at the mill iv Killraghlin,an'--
'Oh,' says she, 'the spirit has him, body an' bones!' says she. 'Oh,holy St. Bridget--oh, Mother iv Marcy--oh, Father O'Flaherty!' says she,screechin' murdher from out iv her bed.
Well, Bill Malowney was not a minute remimberin' himself, an' so out widhim quite an' aisy, an' through the kitchen; bud in place iv the dooriv the house, it's what he kem to the door iv Father O'Flaherty's littleroom, where he was jist wakenin' wid the noise iv the screechin' an'battherin'; an' bedad, Bill makes no more about it, but he jumps, widone boult, clever an' clane into his raverance's bed.
'What do ye mane, you uncivilised bliggard?' says his raverance. 'Isthat a venerable way,' says he, 'to approach your clargy?' says he.
'Hould your tongue,' says Bill, 'an' I'll do ye no harum,' says he.
'Who are you, ye scoundhrel iv the world?' says his raverance.
'Whisht!' says he? 'I'm Billy Malowney,' says he.
'You lie!' says his raverance for he was frightened beyont allbearin'--an' he makes but one jump out iv the bed at the wrong side,where there was only jist a little place in the wall for a press,an' his raverance could not as much as turn in it for the wealth ivkingdoms. 'You lie,' says he; 'but for feared it's the truth you'retellin',' says he, 'here's at ye in the name iv all the blessed saintstogether!' says he.
r /> An' wid that, my dear, he blazes away at him wid a Latin prayer iv thestrongest description, an', as he said himself afterwards, that was iva nature that id dhrive the divil himself up the chimley like a puff ivtobacky smoke, wid his tail betune his legs.
'Arra, what are ye sthrivin' to say,' says Bill; says he, 'if ye don'thould your tongue,' says he, 'wid your parly voo;' says he, 'it's whatI'll put my thumb on your windpipe,' says he, 'an' Billy Malowney neverwint back iv his word yet,' says he.
'Thundher-an-owns,' says his raverance, says he--seein' the Latin tookno infect on him, at all at all an' screechin' that you'd think he'drise the thatch up iv the house wid the fair fright--'and thundher andblazes, boys, will none iv yes come here wid a candle, but lave yourclargy to be choked by a spirit in the dark?' says he.
Well, be this time the sarvint boys and the rest iv them wor up an' halfdressed, an' in they all run, one on top iv another, wid pitchforks andspades, thinkin' it was only what his raverence slep' a dhrame iv thelike, by means of the punch he was afther takin' just before he rowl'dhimself into the bed. But, begorra, whin they seen it was raly BillMalowney himself that was in it, it was only who'd be foremost outagin, tumblin' backways, one over another, and his raverence roarin' an'cursin' them like mad for not waitin' for him.
Well, my dear, it was betther than half an hour before Billy Malowneycould explain to them all how it raly was himself, for begorra they wereall iv them persuadin' him that he was a spirit to that degree it's awondher he did not give in to it, if it was only to put a stop to theargiment.
Well, his raverence tould the ould people then, there was no use insthrivin' agin the will iv Providence an' the vagaries iv love united;an' whin they kem to undherstand to a sartinty how Billy had a shillin'a day for the rest iv his days, begorra they took rather a likin'to him, and considhered at wanst how he must have riz out of all hisnansinse entirely, or his gracious Majesty id never have condescindedto show him his countenance that way every day of his life, on a silvershillin'.
An' so, begorra, they never stopt till it was all settled--an' there wasnot sich a weddin' as that in the counthry sinst. It's more than fortyyears ago, an' though I was no more nor a gossoon myself, I remimber itlike yestherday. Molly never looked so purty before, an' Billy Malowneywas plisant beyont all hearin,' to that degree that half the girls in itwas fairly tarin' mad--only they would not let on--they had not himto themselves in place iv her. An' begorra I'd be afeared to tell ye,because you would not believe me, since that blessid man Father Mathewput an end to all soorts of sociality, the Lord reward him, how manygallons iv pottieen whisky was dhrank upon that most solemn and tindheroccasion.
Pat Hanlon, the piper, had a faver out iv it; an' Neddy Shawn Heigue,mountin' his horse the wrong way, broke his collarbone, by the manesiv fallin' over his tail while he was feelin' for his head; an' PaytherBrian, the horse-docther, I am tould, was never quite right in the headever afther; an' ould Tim Donovan was singin' the 'Colleen Rue' nightand day for a full week; an' begorra the weddin' was only the foundationiv fun, and the beginning iv divarsion, for there was not a year for tenyears afther, an' more, but brought round a christenin' as regular asthe sasins revarted.
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