Chapter V: Part 5

I remember, when a boy, carrying the splits for a servant of the family, called Sam Wham. Now, Sam was an able young fellow, well-boned and willing, a hard headed cudgel player, and a marvellous tough wrestler, for he had a backbone like a sea serpent--this gained him the name of the Twister and Twiner. He had got into the river, and with his back to me was stooping over a broad stone, when something bolted from under the bank on which I stood, right through his legs. Sam fell with a great splash on his face, but in falling jammed whatever it was against the stone. "Let go, Twister!" shouted I; "'Tis an otter, he will nip a finger off you." "Whist!" sputtered he, as he slid his hand under the water. "May I never read a text again if he isna a sawmont wi' a shoulther like a hog!" "Grip him by the gills, Twister," cried I. "Saul will I!" cried the Twiner; but just then there was a heave, a roll, a splash, a slap like a pistol-shot: down went Sam, and up went the salmon, spun like a shilling at a pitch-and-toss, six feet into the air. I leaped in just as he came to the water, but my foot caught between two stones, and the more I pulled the firmer it stuck. The fish fell into the spot shallower than that from which he had leaped. Sam saw the chance, and tackled to again; while I, sitting down in the stream as best I might, held up my torch, and cried, "Fair play!" as, shoulder to shoulder, through, out, and about, up and down, roll and tumble, to it they went, Sam and the salmon. The Twister was never so twined before. Yet, through cross-buttocks and capsizes innumerable, he still held on; now haled through a pool; now haling up a bank; now heels over head; now head over heels; now, head over heels together, doubled up in a corner; but at last stretched fairly on his back, and foaming for rage and disappointment; while the victorious salmon, slapping the stones with its tail, and whirling the spray from its shoulders at every roll, came boring and snoring up the ford. I tugged and strained to no purpose; he flashed by me with a snort, and slid into deep water. Sam now staggered forward with battered bones and pilled elbows, blowing like a grampus, and cursing like nothing but himself. He extricated me, and we limped home. Neither rose for a week; for I had a dislocated ankle, and the Twister was troubled with a broken rib. Poor Sam! He had his brains discovered at last by a poker in a row, and was worm's meat within three months; yet, ere he died, he had the satisfaction of feasting on his old antagonist, who was man's meat next morning. They caught him in a net. Sam knew him by the twist in his tail.

Darby Doyle's Voyage to Quebec.

_From "The Dublin Penny Journal," 1832._

BY THOMAS ETTINGSALL (17----1850).

I tuck the road one fine morning in May, from Inchegelagh, an' got up to the Cove safe an' sound. There I saw many ships with big broad boords fastened to ropes, every one ov them saying "The first vessel for Quebec." Siz I to myself, those are about to run for a wager; this one siz she'll be first, and that one siz she'll be first. I pitched on one that was finely painted. When I wint on boord to ax the fare, who shou'd come up out ov a hole but Ned Flinn, an ould townsman ov my own.

"Och, is it yoorself that's there, Ned?" siz I; "are ye goin' to Amerrykey?"

"Why, an' to be shure," sez he; "I'm _mate_ ov the ship."

"Meat! that's yer sort, Ned," siz I; "then we'll only want bread. Hadn't I betther go and pay my way?"

"You're time enough," siz Ned; "I'll tell you when we're ready for sea--leave the rest to me, Darby."

"Och, tip us your fist," siz I; "you were always the broath of a boy; for the sake ov ould times, Ned, we must have a dhrop ov drink, and a bite to ate."

Many's the squeeze Ned gave my fist, telling me to leave it all to him, and how comfortable he'd make me on the voyage. Day afther day we spint together, waitin' for the wind, till I found my pockets begin to grow very light. At last, siz he to me, one day afther dinner:--

"Darby, the ship will be ready for sea on the morrow--you'd betther go on boord an' pay your way."

"Is it jokin' you are, Ned?" siz I; "shure you tould me to leave it all to you."

"Ah! Darby," siz he, "you're for takin' a rise out o' me. But I'll stick to my promise; only, Darby, you must pay your way."

"O, Ned," says I, "is this the way you're goin' to threat me after all? I'm a rooin'd man; all I cou'd scrape together I spint on you. If you don't do something for me, I'm lost. Is there no place where you cou'd hide me from the captin?"

"Not a place," siz Ned.

"An' where, Ned, is the place I saw you comin' up out ov?"

"O, Darby, that was the hould where the cargo's stow'd."

"An' is there no other place?" siz I.

"Oh, yes," siz he, "where we keep the wather casks."

"An' Ned," siz I, "does anyone live down there?"

"Not a mother's soul," siz he.

"An' Ned," siz I, "can't you cram me down there, and give me a lock ov straw an' a bit?"

"Why, Darby," siz he (an' he look'd mighty pittyfull), "I must thry. But mind, Darby, you'll have to hide all day in an empty barrel, and when it comes to my watch, I'll bring you down some prog; but if you're diskiver'd, it's all over with me, an' you'll be put on a dissilute island to starve."

"O Ned," siz I, "leave it all to me."

When night cum on I got down into the dark cellar, among the barrels; and poor Ned every night brought me down hard black cakes an' salt meat. There I lay snug for a whole month. At last, one night, siz he to me:--

"Now, Darby, what's to be done? we're within three days' sail ov Quebec; the ship will be overhauled, and all the passengers' names call'd over."

"An' is that all that frets you, my jewel," siz I; "just get me an empty meal-bag, a bottle, an' a bare ham bone, and that's all I'll ax."

So Ned got them for me, anyhow.

"Well, Ned," siz I, "you know I'm a great shwimmer; your watch will be early in the morning; I'll just slip down into the sea; do you cry out 'There's a man in the wather,' as loud as you can, and leave all the rest to me."

Well, to be sure, down into the sea I dropt without as much as a splash. Ned roared out with the hoarseness of a brayin' ass--

"A man in the sea, a man in the sea!"

Every man, woman, and child came running up out of the holes, and the captain among the rest, who put a long red barrel, like a gun, to his eye--I thought he was for shootin' me! Down I dived. When I got my head over the wather agen, what shou'd I see but a boat rowin' to me. When it came up close, I roared out--

"Did ye hear me at last?"

The boat now run 'pon the top ov me; I was gript by the scruff ov the neck, and dragg'd into it.

"What hard look I had to follow yees, at all at all--which ov ye is the masther?" says I.

"There he is," siz they, pointin' to a little yellow man in a corner of the boat.

"You yallow-lookin' monkey, but it's a'most time for you to think ov lettin' me into your ship--I'm here plowin' and plungin' this month afther you; shure I didn't care a thrawneen was it not that you have my best Sunday clothes in your ship, and my name in your books."

"An' pray, what is your name, my lad?" siz the captain.

"What's my name! What i'd you give to know?" siz I, "ye unmannerly spalpeen, it might be what's your name, Darby Doyle, out ov your mouth--ay, Darby Doyle, that was never afraid or ashamed to own it at home or abroad!"

"An', Mr. Darby Doyle," siz he, "do you mean to persuade us that you swam from Cork to this afther us?"

"This is more ov your ignorance," siz I--"ay, an' if you sted three days longer and not take me up, I'd be in Quebec before ye, only my purvisions were out, and the few rags of bank notes I had all melted into paste in my pocket, for I hadn't time to get them changed. But stay, wait till I get my foot on shore; there's ne'er a cottoner in Cork iv you don't pay for leavin' me to the marcy ov the waves."

At last we came close to the ship. Everyone on board saw me at Cove but didn't see me on the voyage; to be sure, everyone's mouth was wide open, crying out, "Darby Doyle!"

"It's now you call me loud enough," siz I, "ye wouldn't shout that way when ye saw me rowlin' like a tub in a mill-race the other day fornenst your faces." When they heard me say that, some of them grew pale as a sheet. Nothin' was tawked ov for the other three days but Darby Doyle's great shwim from Cove to Quebec.

At last we got to Ammerykey. I was now in a quare way; the captain wouldn't let me go till a friend of his would see me. By this time, my jewel, not only his friends came, but swarms upon swarms, starin' at poor Darby. At last I called Ned.

"Ned, avic," siz I, "what's the meanin' ov the boords acrass the stick the people walk on, and the big white boord up there?"

"Why, come over and read," siz Ned. I saw in great big black letters:--

THE GREATEST WONDHER IN THE WORLD!!!
TO BE SEEN HERE,

A Man that beats out Nicholas the Diver!
He has swum from Cork to Amerrykey!!
Proved on oath by ten of the crew and twenty passengers.
Admittance Half a Dollar.

"Ned," siz I, "does this mean your humble sarvint?"

"Not another," siz he.

So I makes no more ado, than with a hop, skip, and jump, gets over to the captain, who was now talkin' to a yallow fellow that was afther starin' me out ov countenance.

"Ye are doin' it well," said I. "How much money have ye gother for my shwimmin'?"

"Be quiet, Darby," siz the captain, and he looked very much frickened. "I have plenty, an' I'll have more for ye iv ye do what I want ye to do."

"An' what is it, avic?" siz I.

"Why, Darby," siz he, "I'm afther houldin a wager last night with this gintleman for all the worth ov my ship, that you'll shwim against any shwimmer in the world; an', Darby, if ye don't do that, I'm a gone man."

"Augh, give us your fist," siz I; "did ye ever hear ov Paddies dishaving any man in the European world yet--barrin' themselves?"

"Well, Darby," siz he, "I'll give you a hundred dollars; but, Darby, you must be to your word, and you shall have another hundred."

So sayin', he brought me down to the cellar.

"Now, Darby," siz he, "here's the dollars for ye."

But it was only a bit of paper he was handin' me.

"Arrah, none ov yer tricks upon thravellers," siz I; "I had betther nor that, and many more ov them, melted in the sea; give me what won't wash out of my pocket."

"Well, Darby," siz he, "you must have the real thing."

So he reckoned me out a hundred dollars in goold. I never saw the like since the stockin' fell out ov the chimly on my aunt and cut her forred.

"Now, Darby," siz he, "ye are a rich man, and ye are worthy of it all."

At last the day came that I was to stand the tug. I saw the captain lookin' very often at me. At last--

"Darby," siz he, "are you any way cow'd? The fellow you have to shwim agenst can shwim down watherfalls an' catharacts."

"Can he, avic?" siz I; "but can he shwim up agenst them?"

An' who shou'd come up while I was tawkin' to the captain but the chap I was to shwim with, and heard all I sed. He was so tall that he could eat bread an' butther over my head--with a face as yallow as a kite's foot.

"Tip us the mitten," siz I, "mabouchal," siz I; "Where are we going to shwim to? What id ye think if we swum to Keep Cleer or the Keep ov Good Hope?"

"I reckon neither," siz he.

Off we set through the crowds ov ladies an' gintlemen to the shwimmin' place. And as I was goin' I was thript up by a big loomp ov iron struck fast in the ground with a big ring to it.

"What d'ye call that?" siz I to the captain, who was at my elbow.

"Why, Darby," siz he, "that's half an anchor."

"Have ye any use for it?" siz I.

"Not in the least," siz he; "it's only to fasten boats to."

"Maybee you'd give it to a body," siz I.

"An' welkim, Darby," siz he; "it's yours."

"God bless your honour, sir," siz I, "it's my poor father that will pray for you. When I left home the creather hadn't as much as an anvil but what was sthreeled away by the agint--bad end to them. This will be jist the thing that'll match him; he can tie the horse to the ring while he forges on the other part. Now, will ye obleege me by gettin' a couple ov chaps to lay it on my shoulder when I get into the wather, and I won't have to be comin' back for it afther I shake hands with this fellow."

Oh, the chap turned from yallow to white when he heard me say this. An' siz he to the gintleman that was walkin' by _his_ side--

"I reckon I'm not fit for the shwimmin' to-day--I don't feel _myself_."

"An', murdher an' Irish, if you're yer brother, can't you send him for yerself, an' I'll wait here till he comes. An' when will ye be able for the shwim, avic?" siz I, mighty complisant.

"I reckon in another week," siz he.

So we shook hands and parted. The poor fellow went home, took the fever, then began to rave. "Shwim up catharacts!--shwim to the Keep ov Good Hope!--shwim to St. Helena!--shwim to Keep Clear!--shwim with an anchor on his back!--oh! oh! oh!"

I now thought it best to be on the move; so I gother up my winners; and here I sit undher my own hickory threes, as independent as anny Yankee.

Bob Burke's Duel.

_From "Tales from Blackwood."_

BY DR. MAGINN.

HOW BOB BURKE, AFTER CONSULTATION WITH WOODEN-LEG WADDY, FOUGHT THE
DUEL WITH ENSIGN BRADY FOR THE SAKE OF MISS THEODOSIA MACNAMARA,
SUPPOSED HEIRESS TO HER OLD BACHELOR UNCLE, MICK MACNAMARA OF
KAWLEASH.

"At night I had fallen asleep fierce in the determination of exterminating Brady; but with the morrow, cool reflection came--made probably cooler by the aspersion I had suffered. How could I fight him, when he had never given me the slightest affront? To be sure, picking a quarrel is not hard, thank God, in any part of Ireland; but unless I was quick about it, he might get so deep into the good graces of Dosy, who was as flammable as tinder, that even my shooting him might not be of any practical advantage to myself. Then, besides, he might shoot me; and, in fact, I was not by any means so determined in the affair at seven o'clock in the morning as I was at twelve o'clock at night. I got home, however, dressed, shaved, etc., and turned out. 'I think,' said I to myself, 'the best thing I can do, is to go and consult Wooden-Leg Waddy; and, as he is an early man, I shall catch him now.' The thought was no sooner formed than executed; and in less than five minutes I was walking with Wooden-Leg Waddy in his garden, at the back of his house, by the banks of the Blackwater.

"Waddy had been in the Hundred-and-First, and had seen much service in that distinguished corps.

"Waddy had served a good deal, and lost his leg somehow, for which he had a pension besides his half-pay, and he lived in ease and affluence among the Bucks of Mallow. He was a great hand at settling and arranging duels, being what we generally call in Ireland a judgmatical sort of man--a word which, I think, might be introduced with advantage into the English vocabulary. When I called on him, he was smoking his meerschaum, as he walked up and down his garden in an old undressed coat, and a fur cap on his head. I bade him good morning; to which salutation he answered by a nod, and a more prolonged whiff.

"'I want to speak to you, Wooden-Leg,' said I, 'on a matter which nearly concerns me,' to which I received another nod, and another whiff in reply.

"'The fact is,' said I, 'that there is an Ensign Brady of the 48th Quartered here, with whom I have some reason to be angry, and I am thinking of calling him out. I have come to ask your advice whether I should do so or not. He has deeply injured me, by interfering between me and the girl of my affection. What ought I to do in such a case?'

"'Fight him, by all means,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy.

"'But the difficulty is this--he has offered me no affront, direct or indirect--we have no quarrel whatever--and he has not paid any addresses to the lady. He and I have scarcely been in contact at all. I do not see how I can manage it immediately with any propriety. What then can I do now?'

"'Do not fight him, by any means,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy.

"'Still, these are the facts of the case. He, whether intentionally or not, is coming between me and my mistress, which is doing me an injury perfectly equal to the grossest insult. How should I act?'

"'Fight him by all means,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy.

"'But then, I fear if I were to call him out on a groundless quarrel, or one which would appear to be such, that I should lose the good graces of the lady, and be laughed at by my friends, or set down as a dangerous and quarrelsome companion.'

"'Do not fight him, by any means,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy.

"'Yet, as he is a military man, he must know enough of the etiquette of these affairs to feel perfectly confident that he has affronted me; and the opinion of the military man, standing, as of course, he does, in the rank and position of a gentleman, could not, I think, be overlooked without disgrace.'

"'Fight him, by all means,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy.

"'But then, talking of gentlemen, I own he is an officer of the 48th, but his father is a fish-tackle seller in John Street, Kilkenny, who keeps a three-halfpenny shop, where you may buy everything from a cheese to a cheese-toaster, from a felt hat to a pair of brogues, from a pound of brown soap to a yard of huckaback towels. He got his commission by his father's retiring from the Ormonde Interest, and acting as whipper-in to the sham freeholders from Castlecomer; and I am, as you know, of the best blood of the Burkes--straight from the De Burgos themselves--and when I think of that I really do not like to meet this Mr. Brady.'

"'Do not fight him, by all means,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy.

"'Why,' said I, 'Wooden-Leg, my friend, this is like playing battledore and shuttlecock; what is knocked forward with one hand is knocked back with the other. Come, tell me what I ought to do.'

"'Well,' said Wooden-Leg, taking the meerschaum out of his mouth, 'in dubiis auspice, etc. Let us decide by tossing a halfpenny. If it comes down 'head,' you fight--if 'harp' you do not. Nothing can be fairer.'

"I assented.

"'Which,' said he, 'is it to be--two out of three, as at Newmarket, or the first toss to decide?'

"'Sudden death,' said I, 'and there will soon be an end of it.'

"Up went the halfpenny, and we looked with anxious eyes for its descent, when, unluckily, it stuck in a gooseberry bush.

"'I don't like that,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy, 'for it's a token of bad luck. But here goes again.'

"Again the copper soared to the sky, and down it came--Head.

"'I wish you joy, my friend' said Waddy; 'you are to fight. That was my opinion all along; though I did not like to commit myself. I can lend you a pair of the most beautiful duelling-pistols ever put into a man's hand--Wogden's, I swear. The last time they were out, they shot Joe Brown, of Mount Badger, as dead as Harry the Eight.'

"'Will you be my second?' said I.

"'Why, no,' replied Wooden-leg, 'I cannot; for I am bound over by a rascally magistrate to keep the peace, because I nearly broke the head of a blackguard bailiff, who came here to serve a writ on a friend of mine, with one of my spare legs. But I can get you a second at once. My nephew, Major Mug, has just come to me on a few days' visit, and, as he is quite idle it will give him some amusement to be your second. Look up at his bedroom--you see he is shaving himself.'

"In a short time the Major made his appearance, dressed with a most military accuracy of costume. There was not a speck of dust on his well-brushed blue surtout--not a vestige of hair, except the regulation whiskers, on his closely-shaven countenance. His hat was brushed to the most glossy perfection--his boots shone in the jetty glow of Day and Martin. There was scarcely an ounce of flesh on his hard and weather-beaten face, and as he stood rigidly upright, you would have sworn that every sinew and muscle of his body was as stiff as whipcord. He saluted us in military style, and was soon put in possession of the case. Wooden-Leg Waddy insinuated that there were hardly, as yet, grounds for a duel.

"'I differ,' said Major Mug, 'decidedly--the grounds are ample. I never saw a clearer case in my life, and I have been principal or second in seven-and-twenty. If I collect your story rightly, Mr. Burke, he gave you an abrupt answer in the field, which was highly derogatory to the lady in question, and impertinently rude to yourself?'

"'He certainly,' said I, 'gave me what we call a short answer; but I did not notice it at the time, and he has since made friends with the young lady.'

"'It matters nothing,' observed Major Mug, 'what you may think, or she may think. The business is now in my hands, and I must see you through it. The first thing to be done is to write him a letter. Send out for paper--let it be gilt-edged, Waddy,--that we may do the thing genteelly. I'll dictate, Mr. Burke, if you please.'

"And so he did. As well as I can recollect, the note was as follows:--

"'Spa-Walk, Mallow, June 3, 18--

"'Eight o'clock in the morning.

"'Sir,--A desire for harmony and peace, which has at all times
actuated my conduct, prevented me, yesterday, from asking you the
meaning of the short and contemptuous message which you commissioned
me to deliver to a certain young lady of our acquaintance whose name I
do not choose to drag into a correspondence. But, now that there is no
danger of its disturbing anyone, I must say that in your desiring me
to tell that young lady she might consider herself as d----d, when she
asked you to tea after inadvertently riding over you in the hunting
field, you were guilty of conduct highly unbecoming of an officer and
a gentleman, and subversive of the discipline of the hunt. I have the
honour to be, sir,

"'Your most obedient humble servant,

"'ROBERT BURKE.

"'P.S.--This note will be delivered to you by my friend, Major Mug, of
the 3rd West Indian; and you will, I trust, see the propriety of
referring him to another gentleman without further delay.'

"'That, I think, is neat,' said the Major. 'Now, seal it with wax, Mr. Burke, with wax--and let the seal be your arms. That's right. Now direct it.'

"'Ensign Brady?'

"'No--no--the right thing would be, 'Mr. Brady, Ensign, 48th Foot,' but custom allows 'Esquire,' that will do.--'Thady Brady, Esquire, Ensign, 48th Foot, Barracks, Mallow.' He shall have it in less than a quarter of an hour.'

"The Major was as good as his word, and in about half-an-hour he brought back the result of his mission. The Ensign, he told us, was extremely reluctant to fight, and wanted to be off on the ground that he meant no offence, did not even remember having used the expression, and offered to ask the lady if she conceived for a moment he had any idea of saying anything but what was complimentary to her.

"'In fact,' said the Major, 'he at first plumply refused to fight; but I soon brought him to reason. 'Sir,' said I, 'you either consent to fight or refuse to fight. In the first case, the thing is settled to hand, and we are not called upon to inquire if there was an affront or not--in the second case, your refusal to comply with a gentleman's request is, of itself, an offence for which he has a right to call you out. Put it, then, on the grounds, you must fight him, it is perfectly indifferent to me what the grounds may be; and I have only to request the name of your friend, as I too much respect the coat you wear to think that there can be any other alternative.' This brought the chap to his senses, and he referred me to Captain Codd, of his own regiment, at which I felt much pleased, because Codd is an intimate friend of my own, he and I having fought a duel three years ago in Falmouth, in which I lost the top of this little finger, and he his left whisker. It was a near touch, he is as honourable a man as ever paced a ground; and I am sure that he will no more let his man off the field until business is done than I would myself.'

"I own," continued Burke, "I did not half relish this announcement of the firm purpose to our seconds; but I was in for it, and could not get back. I sometimes thought Dosy a dear purchase at such an expense; but it was no use to grumble. Major Mug was sorry to say that there was a review to take place immediately at which the Ensign must attend, and it was impossible for him to meet me until the evening; 'but,' he added, 'at this time of the year it can be of no great consequence. There will be plenty of light till nine, but I have fixed seven. In the meantime you may as well divert yourself with a little pistol practice, but do it on the sly, as, if they were shabby enough to have a trial it would not tell well before the jury.'

"Promising to take a quiet chop with me at five, the Major retired, leaving me not quite contented with the state of affairs. I sat down and wrote a letter to my cousin, Phil Burdon, of Kanturk, telling him what I was about and giving directions what was to be done in the case of any fatal event. I communicated to him the whole story--deplored my unhappy fate in being thus cut off in the flower of my youth--left him three pairs of buckskin breeches--and repented my sins. This letter I immediately packed off by a special messenger, and then began a half-a-dozen others, of various styles of tenderness and sentimentality, to be delivered after my melancholy decease. The day went off fast enough, I assure you; and at five the Major, and Wooden-Leg Waddy, arrived in high spirits.

"'Here, my boy,' said Waddy, handing me the pistols, 'here are the flutes; and pretty music, I can tell you, they make.'

"'As for dinner,' said Major Mug, 'I do not much care; but, Mr. Burke, I hope it is ready, as I am rather hungry. We must dine lightly, however, and drink not much. If we come off with flying colours, we may crack a bottle together by-and-by; in case you shoot Brady, I have everything arranged for our keeping out of the way until the thing blows over--if he shoots you, I'll see you buried. Of course, you would not recommend anything so ungenteel as a prosecution? No. I'll take care it shall appear in the papers, and announced that Robert Burke, Esq., met his death with becoming fortitude, assuring the unhappy survivor that he heartily forgave him, and wished him health and happiness.'

"'I must tell you,' said Wooden-Leg Waddy, 'it's all over Mallow and the whole town will be on the ground to see it. Miss Dosy knows of it, and she is quite delighted--she says she will certainly marry the survivor. I spoke to the magistrate to keep out of the way, and he promised that, though it deprived him of a great pleasure he would go and dine five miles off--and know nothing about it. But here comes dinner, let us be jolly.'

"I cannot say that I played on that day as brilliant a part with the knife and fork as I usually do, and did not sympathise much in the speculations of my guests, who pushed the bottle about with great energy, recommending me, however, to refrain. At last the Major looked at his watch, which he had kept lying on the table before him from the beginning of dinner--started up--clapped me on the shoulder, and declaring it only wanted six minutes and thirty-five seconds of the time, hurried me off to the scene of action--a field close by the castle.

"There certainly was a miscellaneous assemblage of the inhabitants of Mallow, all anxious to see the duel. They had pitted us like game-cocks, and bets were freely taken as to the chances of our killing one another, and the particular spots. One betted on my being hit in the jaw, another was so kind as to lay the odds on my knee. The tolerably general opinion appeared to prevail that one or other of us was to be killed; and much good-humoured joking took place among them while they were deciding which. As I was double the thickness of my antagonist, I was clearly the favourite for being shot, and I heard one fellow near me say, 'Three to two on Burke, that he's shot first--I bet in tenpennies.'

"Brady and Codd soon appeared, and the preliminaries were arranged with much punctilio between our seconds, who mutually and loudly extolled each other's gentleman-like mood of doing business. Brady could scarcely stand with fright, and I confess that I did not feel quite as Hector of Troy, or the Seven Champions of Christendom are reported to have done on similar occasions. At last the ground was measured--the pistols handed to the principals--the handkerchief dropped--whiz! went the bullet within an inch of my ear--and crack! went mine exactly on Ensign Brady's waistcoat pocket. By an unaccountable accident, there was a five shilling piece in that very pocket, and the ball glanced away, while Brady doubled himself down, uttering a loud howl that might be heard half-a-mile off. The crowd was so attentive as to give a huzza for my success.

"Codd ran up to his principal, who was writhing as if he had ten thousand colics, and soon ascertained that no harm was done.

"'What do you propose,' said he to my second--'What do you propose to do, Major?'

"'As there is neither blood drawn nor bone broken,' said the Major, 'I think that shot goes for nothing.'

"'I agree with you,' said Captain Codd.

"'If your party will apologise,' said Major Mug, 'I'll take my man off the ground.'

"'Certainly,' said Captain Codd, 'you are quite right, Major, in asking the apology, but you know that it is my duty to refuse it.'

"'You are correct, Captain,' said the Major; 'I then formally require that Ensign Brady apologise to Mr. Burke.'

"'I, as formally, refuse it,' said Captain Codd.

"'We must have another shot then,' said the Major.

"'Another shot, by all means,' said the Captain.

"'Captain Codd,' said the Major, 'you have shown yourself in this, as in every transaction of your life, a perfect gentleman.'

"'He who would dare to say,' replied the Captain, 'that Major Mug is not among the most gentleman-like men in the service, would speak what is untrue.'

"Our seconds bowed, took a pinch of snuff together, and proceeded to load the pistols. Neither Brady nor I were particularly pleased at these complimentary speeches of the gentlemen, and, I am sure, had we been left to ourselves, would have declined the second shot. As it was, it appeared inevitable.

"Just, however, as the process of loading was completing, there appeared on the ground my cousin Phil Purdon, rattling in on his black mare as hard as he could lick--

"'I want to speak to the plaintiff in this action--I mean, to one of the parties in this duel. I want to speak to you, Bob Burke.'

"'The thing is impossible, sir,' said Major Mug.

"'Perfectly impossible, sir,' said Codd.

"'Possible or impossible is nothing to the question,' shouted Purdon; 'Bob, I must speak to you.'

"'It is contrary to all regulation,' said the Major.

"'Quite contrary,' said the Captain.

"Phil, however, persisted, and approached me: 'Are you fighting about Dosy Mac?' said he to me, in a whisper.

"'Yes,' I replied.

"'And she is to marry the survivor, I understand?'

"'So I am told,' said I.

"'Back out, Bob, then; back out, at the rate of a hunt. Old Mick MacNamara is married.'

"'Married!' I exclaimed.

"'Poz,' said he. 'I drew the articles myself. He married his housemaid, a girl of eighteen; and,' here he whispered.

"'What,' I cried, 'six months!'

"'Six months,' said he, 'an' no mistake.'

"'Ensign Brady,' said I, immediately coming forward, 'there has been a strange misconception in this business. I here declare, in presence of this honourable company, that you have acted throughout like a man of honour, and a gentleman; and you leave the ground without a stain on your character.'

"Brady hopped three feet off the ground with joy at the unexpected deliverance. He forgot all etiquette, and came forward to shake me by the hand.

"'My dear Burke,' said he, 'it must have been a mistake: let us swear eternal friendship.'

"'For ever,' said I. 'I resign you Miss Theodosia.'

"'You are too generous,' he said, 'but I cannot abuse your generosity.'

"'It is unprecedented conduct,' growled Major Mug. 'I'll never be second to a Pekin again.'

"'My principal leaves the ground with honour,' said Captain Codd, looking melancholy, nevertheless.

"'Humph!' grunted Wooden-Leg Waddy, lighting his meerschaum.

"The crowd dispersed much displeased, and I fear my reputation for valour did not rise among them. I went off with Purdon to finish a jug at Carmichael's, and Brady swaggered off to Miss Dosy's. His renown for valour won her heart. It cannot be denied that I sunk deeply in her opinion. On that very evening Brady broke his love, and was accepted. Mrs. Mac. opposed, but the red-coat prevailed.

"'He may rise to be a general,' said Dosy, 'and be a knight, and then I will be Lady Brady.'

"'Or, if my father should be made an earl, angelic Theodosia, you would be Lady Thady Brady,' said the Ensign.

"'Beautiful prospect!' cried Dosy, 'Lady Thady Brady! What a harmonious sound!'

"But why dally over the detail of my unfortunate loves? Dosy and the Ensign were married before the accident which had befallen her uncle was discovered; and if they were not happy, why, then, you and I may. They have had eleven children, and, I understand, he now keeps a comfortable eating-house close by Cumberland Basin, in Bristol. Such was my duel with Ensign Brady of the 48th."

Billy Malowney's Taste of Love and Glory.

_From "The Purcell Papers."_

BY JOSEPH SHERIDAN LE FANU (1814-1873).

Let the reader fancy a soft summer evening, the fresh dews falling on bush and flower. The sun has just gone down, and the thrilling vespers of thrushes and blackbirds ring with a wild joy through the saddened air; the west is piled with fantastic clouds, and clothed in tints of crimson and amber, melting away into a wan green, and so eastward into the deepest blue, through which soon the stars will begin to peep.

Let him fancy himself seated upon the low mossy wall of an ancient churchyard, 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 that is 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 into soft hills, and traversed (every here and there visibly) by a winding stream which, even through the mists of evening, catches and returns the funeral glories of the skies.

As the eye traces its wayward wanderings, it loses them for a moment in the heaving verdure of white-thorns and ash, from among which floats from some dozen rude chimneys, mostly unseen, the transparent blue film of turf smoke. There we know, although we cannot see it, the steep old bridge of Carrickdrum spans the river; and stretching away far to the right the valley of Lisnamoe; its steeps and hollows, its straggling hedges, its fair-green, its tall scattered trees, and old grey tower, are disappearing fast among the discoloured tints and blaze of evening.

Those landmarks, as we sit listlessly expecting the arrival of our modest conveyance, suggest to our companion--a bare-legged Celtic brother of the gentle craft, somewhat at the wrong side of forty, with a turf-coloured caubeen, patched frieze, a clear brown complexion, dark-grey eyes and a right pleasant dash of roguery in his features--the tale, which, if the reader pleases, he is welcome to hear along 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 advantages of an intelligent, expressive countenance, and what is, perhaps, harder still, the harmony of his glorious brogue, that, like the melodies of our own dear country, will leave a burden of mirth or of sorrow with nearly equal propriety, tickling the diaphragm as easily as it plays with the heart-strings, and is in itself a national music that, I trust, may never, never--scouted and despised though it be--never cease, like the lost tones of our harp, to be heard in the fields of my country, in welcome 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, and continued his relation, as nearly as possible, in the following words:--

Av coorse ye often heerd talk of Billy Malowney, that lived by the bridge of Carrickadrum. "Leumarinka" 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--killin' the hares, and gaffin' the salmons, an' fightin' the men, an' funnin' the women, and coortin' the girls; an', be the same token, there was not a colleen inside iv his jurisdiction but was breakin' her heart wid the fair love iv him.

Well, this was all pleasand enough, to be sure, while it lasted; but inhuman beings is born to misfortune, an' Bill's divarshin was not to last always. A young boy can't be continually coortin' and kissin' the girls (an' more's the pity) without exposin' himself to the most eminent parril; an' so signs an' what should happen Billy Malowney himself, but to fall in love at last wid little Molly Donovan, in Coolamoe.

I never could ondherstand why in the world it was Bill fell in love wid her, above all the girls in the country. She was not within four stone weight iv being as fat as Peg Brallaghan; and as for redness in the face, she could not hould a candle to Judy Flaherty. (Poor Judy! she was my sweetheart, the darlin', an' coorted me constant, ever entil she married a boy of the Butlers; an' it's twenty years now since she was buried 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 was every taste as much in love wid himself as he was.

Well, now, he was raly stupid wid love: there was not a bit of fun left 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 got wind for it all.

An', bedad, he was an illigant scholar, moreover an', so signs by, it's many's the song he made about her; an' if you'd be walkin' in the evening, a mile away from Carrickadrum, begorra you'd hear him singing out 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 too well plased to see Bill Malowney coortin' their daughter Molly; for, do ye mind, she was the only child they had, and her fortune was thirty-five pounds, two cows, and five illigant pigs, three iron pots, a skillet, an' a trifle iv poultry in hand; and no one knew how much besides, whenever the Lord id be plased to call the ould people out of the way into glory!

So, it was not likely ould Tim Donovan id be fallin' in love wid poor Bill Malowney as aisy as the girls did; for, barrin' his beauty, an' his gun, an' his dhudheen, an' his janious, the divil a taste of property iv any sort or description he had in the wide world!

Well, as bad as that was, Billy would not give in that her father and mother had the smallest taste iv a right to intherfare, good or bad.

"An' you're welcome to rafuse me," says he, "whin' I ax your lave," says he; "an' I'll ax your lave," says he, "whenever I want to coort yourselves," says he; "but it's your daughter I'm coortin' at the present," says he, "an' that's all I'll say," says he; "for I'd a soon take 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 betune them; an' they put a solemn injection on Molly again seein' him or meetin' him for the future.

But it was all iv no use. You might as well be pursuadin' the birds agin flying, or sthrivin' to coax the stars out of the sky into your hat, as be talking common sinse to them that's fairly bothered and burstin' wid love. There's nothin' like it. The toothache and colic together id compose you betther for an argyment than itself. It leaves you fit for nothin' bud nansinse.

It's stronger than whisky, for one good drop iv it will make you drunk for 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 stronger than Death himself, for it is not afeard iv him, bedad, but dares him in every shape.

Bud lovers has quarrels sometimes, and, begorra, when they do, you'd a'most imagine they hated one another like man and wife. An' so, signs an', Billy Malowney and Molly Donovan fell out one evening at ould Tom Dundon's wake; an' whatever came betune them, she made no more about it but just draws her cloak round her, and away wid herself and the sarvant-girl home again, as if there was not a corpse, or a fiddle, or a taste of divarsion in it.

Well, Billy Malowney follied her down the boreen, to try could he deludher her back again; but, if she was bitther before, she gave it to him in airnest when she got him alone to herself, and to that degree that he wished her safe home, short and sulky enough, an' walked back again, as mad as the devil himself, to the wake, to pay respect to poor Tom Dundon.

Well, my dear, it was aisy seen there was something wrong wid Billy Malowney, for he paid no attintion for the rest of the evening to any soart of divarsion but the whisky alone; an' every glass he'd drink it's what he'd be wishing the divil had the woman, an' the worst iv bad luck to all 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 was deploying along the road almost as straight as the letter S, an' cursin' the girls, an' roarin' for more whisky, but the recruiting-sargent iv the Welsh Confusileers.

So, cute enough, the sargent begins to convarse him, an' it was not long until he had him sitting in Murphy's public-house, wid an elegant dandy iv punch before him, an' the king's money safe an' snug in the lowest wrinkle of his breeches pocket.

So away wid him, and the dhrums and fifes playing, an' a dozen more unforthunate bliggards just listed along with him, an' he shakin' hands wid the sargent, and swearin' agin the women every minute, until, be the time he kem to himself, begorra, he was a good ten miles on the road to Dublin, an' Molly and all behind him.

It id be no good tellin' you iv the letters he wrote to her from the barracks there, nor how she was breaking her heart to go and see him just wanst before he'd go; but the father and mother would not allow iv it be no manes.

An' so in less time than you'd be thinkin' about it, the colonel had him polished off into a rale elegant soger, wid his gun exercise, and his bagnet exercise, and his small sword, and broad sword, and pistol and dagger, an' all the rest, an' then away wid him on board a man-a-war to furrin parts, to fight for King George agin Bonypart, that was great in them times.

Well, it was very soon in everyone's mouth how Billy Malowney was batin' all before him, astonishin' the ginerals, and frightenin' the inimy to that degree, there was not a Frinchman dare say parley voo outside of the rounds iv his camp.

You may be sure Molly was proud iv that same, though she never spoke a word about it; until at last news kem home that Billy Malowney was surrounded an' murdered be the Frinch army, under Napoleon Bonypart himself. The news was brought by Jack Bryan Dhas, the pedlar, that said he met the corporal iv the regiment on the quay iv Limerick, an' how he brought him into a public-house and thrated him to a naggin, and got all the 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 how the Dook iv Wellington detarmined to fight a rale tarin' battle wid the Frinch, and Bonypart at the same time was aiqually detarmined to fight the divil's own scrimmidge wid the British foorces.

Well, as soon as the business was pretty near ready at both sides, Bonypart and the general next undher himself gets up behind a bush, to look at their inimies through spy-glasses, and thry would they know any iv them at the distance.

"Bedad!" says the gineral, afther a divil iv a long spy, "I'd bet half a pint," says he, "that's Billy Malowney himself," says he, "down there," says he.

"Och!" says Bonypart, "do you tell me so?" says he--"I'm fairly heart-scalded with that same Billy Malowney," says he; "an' I think if I wanst got shut iv him, I'd bate the rest of them aisy," says he.

"I'm thinking so myself," says the general, says he; "but he's a tough bye," says he.

"Tough!" says Bonypart, "he's the divil," says he.

"Begorra, I'd be better plased," says the gineral, says he, "to take himself than the Duke iv Willinton," says he, "an' Sir Edward Blakeney into the bargain," says he.

"The Duke of Wellinton and Gineral Blakeney," says Bonypart, "is great for planning, no doubt," says he; "but Billy Malowney's the boy for action," says he--"an' action's everything, just now," says he.

So with that Bonypart pushes up his cocked hat, and begins scratching his head, and thinking and considherin' for the bare life, and at last says he to the gineral:

"Gineral Commandher iv all the Foorces," says he, "I've hot it," says he: "ordher out the forlorn hope," says he, "an' give them as much powdher, both glazed and blasting," says he, "an' as much bullets, do ye mind, an' swan-dhrops an' chainshot," says he, "an' all soorts iv waipons an' combustables as they can carry; an' let them surround Bill Malowney," says he, "an' if they can get any soort iv an advantage," says he, "let them knock him to smithereens," says he, "an' then take him 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'. And you may promise them anything you like in my name," says he; "for, by my sowl, I don't think it's many iv them 'ill come back to throuble us," says he, winkin' at him.

So away with the gineral, an' he ordhers out the forlorn hope, an' tells the band to play, an' everything else, just as Bonypart desired him. An' sure enough whin Billy Malowney heerd the music where he was standin' taking a blast of the dhudheen to compose his mind for murdherin' the Frinchmen as usual, being mighty partial to that tune intirely, he cocks his ear a one side, an' down he stoops to listen to the music; but, begorra, who should be in his rare all the time but a Frinch grannideer behind a bush, and seeing him stooped in a convenient forum, bedad he let flies at him straight, and fired him right forward between the legs an' the small iv the back, glory be to God! with what they call (saving your presence) a bum-shell.

Well, Bill Malowney let one roar out iv him, an' away he rolled over the field iv battle like a slitther (as Bonypart and the Duke iv Wellington, that was watching the manoeuvres from a distance, both consayved) into glory.

An' sure enough the Frinch was overjoyed beyant all bounds, an' small blame to them--an' the Duke of Wellington, I'm toult, was never all out the same man sinst.

At any rate, the news kem home how Billy Malowney was murdhered by the Frinch 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 always kept puttin' them off constant. An' though her father and mother was nathurally anxious to get rid of her respickably, they did not like to marry her off in spite iv her teeth.

An' this way, promising one while and puttin' it off another, she conthrived to get on from one Shrove to another, until near seven years was over and gone from the time when Billy Malowney listed for furrin sarvice.