Read Ebook: The Irish Penny Journal Vol. 1 No. 39 March 27 1841 by Various

Font size: 10 px 15 px 20 px 25 px 30 px 35 px

Background color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Text color: BlackWhiteGrayLight GrayDark GrayDim Gray

Apply/Save settings

Ebook has 107 lines and 14887 words, and 3 pages

At a glance he perceived that the house contained a master and a mistress; but an old lady in the chimney corner, having by her a pair of crutches, made him quail, by the sinister expression of her countenance. Still, nothing daunted, he asked the master of the house at once for employment.

"Plenty of employment have I, friend, and good wages," answered he, "but I am a man of a thousand: and I may also say, not one man of a thousand will stop with me in this house."

"And may I ask the reason of this, sir?" said Mihal, taking off his hat respectfully.

"Sir," answered Mihal, "you surprise me. I have travelled far, have no money, neither any more to eat; say, therefore, your terms; and if I can at all reconcile myself to them, I am prepared to stop here."

They then returned to the house, and Mihal felt somewhat refreshed, even by the smell alone of the savoury viands which the mistress was then preparing for the afternoon's repast; the greyhound, too, cast occasionally wistful glances towards the operations going forward.

At length the dinner hour being all but arrived, the old lady in the chimney-corner then opened her lips for the first time since Mihal had come in, and expressed a wish to go out and take a walk; "for," said she, "I have not been out for some weeks, ever since our last servant left us. What is your name, my man?" So he told her. "Come out, then," said she, "Mihal, and assist me about the garden, for I am completely cramped."

"O, by no means, sir," said Mihal, frightened; "I must do my business, I suppose."

The dinner was actually laid out on the plates to every one when Mihal and the old lady walked out. No sooner had they done so, than the greyhound, before she could be prevented, pounced on his dinner, and devoured it in a moment!

The old lady thought proper to walk for some hours in the garden; and now was Mihal very hungry, for he had tasted nothing since he had finished the hen early that morning; he almost began to wish that he had relieved the greyhound.

When they came in at last, the supper was being prepared. Mihal was now quite certain that his wants would be attended to; but how woefully was he doomed to be disappointed! For, no sooner had they entered the house than the accursed old lady seized a large cake of wheaten bread, which was baking on the embers, and, hastily spreading on it a coat of butter, directed Mihal to attend her again into the garden! He could say nothing, for his master's eyes were on him. He was completely bewildered. In despair he went with the old lady, and as it was a lovely moonlight night, she stopped out an unusual time, and it was very late when they came in.

Mihal stretched himself, quite fainting, on the bed, but slept not a wink. How I wish, now, thought he, that I had given the greyhound not only the small bones, but even half my hen!

He was now completely exhausted; and, determining to expostulate with his master when he came in, went up to him, craving some food.

"No," said the farmer; "we never eat except at stated times, and my mother keeps the keys."

"Ah, sir, have pity on me!" answered Mihal; "how can I exist, or do your business?"

Mihal, now quite losing sight of the agreement, and confused by the question, put in so treacherous a manner, answered, "that of course he could not but blame any person who would permit such infamous conduct."

The feelings of the poor widow may be imagined, when no tidings ever reached her of her Mihal More. But, on the expiration of a year, the second son, Pauthrick Dhuv, or Patrick Black Fellow, so called from his dark complexion, also prevailed on his mother to let him go in search of his brother, and of employment.

But why should I describe again the horrid scene? Let me satisfy you by merely saying that precisely the same occurrences also happened to poor Pauthrick Dhuv, and that his bones were added to those of his brother, and of the other victims behind the farmer's garden!

The conversation that ensued when Rooshkulum arrived at the farmer's, and offered himself for his servant, was much of the same nature as I have before detailed while relating the former part of my story. "But," said Rooshkulum the fool, "I will not bind myself to these terms for ever; I might get tired of you, or you of me; so, if you please, I will agree to stop with you for certain till we both hear the cuckoo cry when we are together."

To this they agreed, and went into the house. However, just before they stepped in, the farmer asked Rooshkulum his name.

"Well! that will do," answered the master.

The dinner was now prepared, and laid out on the plates, and the old tricks about to be played. Rooshkulum, as with the others, could not find fault, for, fool as he was, he knew the consequences. As he went out with the old lady, she too inquired his name.

And, reader, if thou understandest not our vernacular, know that "Mehane" signifies in English "myself."

They spent some hours, as usual, in the garden, and Rooshkulum returned tired and exhausted. But when he expected to get his supper, and when she again brought him out, and ate the fine hot buttered cake before his very eyes, it was more than flesh and blood could stand. However, he pretended not to mind it in the least, but was very civil to the old lady, amusing her by his silly stories. "And now, ma'am," said he, "let's walk a little way down this sunny bank before we go in."

"Alas, my son! here I am down in this hole! Help me out! I am ruined, disfigured for life!"

"Who?" said the farmer, as he helped her out.

"Well, then," said the farmer, "I suppose it can't be helped, as it was yourself that did it. So here, 'Boy!' take her on your back, and carry her home: it was but an accident!"

But then the old lady called her son to her bedside, and explained how that it was "the Boy" who had done the mischief, "and I command you," said she, "to get rid of him, and for that purpose desire him at once to go and make 'cuisseh na cuissheh na guirach' , that you have long been intending to do, and then to send him with the flock over the road to the land of the giant; we shall then never see him more; and it is better to lose even a flock of sheep than have him longer here, now that he has discovered our trick."

The farmer called Rooshkulum to him, and taxed him with what he had done to his mother.

"No," said Rooshkulum, driving away the sheep.

But, contrary to all their expectations, in an hour's time in marched Rooshkulum, covered with bog dirt and blood. "O!" said he, "I have had hard work since, and made a good deal of the road of the sheeps' legs; but, indeed, there are not half enough legs after all, and you must give me more legs, if you would wish the road made firm."

"And, you rascal, do you tell me you have cut off the legs of all my fine sheep?"

"O dear no! by no means! Only take care, and don't do it any more."

They went on tolerably for a few days, for they were afraid of Rooshkulum, and let him alone, till one morning the farmer told him he was going to a wedding that night, and that he might go with him.

"Well," said Rooshkulum, "what is a wedding? what will they do there?"

"Why," answered the farmer, "a wedding is a fine place, where there is a good supper, and two people are joined together as man and wife."

"O, is that it? I should like much to see what they'll do."

"Well, then, you must promise me to do what I'll tell you with the horses when we are going."

"Why, what shall I do?"

Rooshkulum said nothing. They went to the wedding; but when they sat down to supper, all were surprised to find a round thing on their plates, covered with blood, and not looking very tempting. But the farmer soon guessed the sad truth, and calling Rooshkulum aside, he sternly asked him what he had done.

They were all by this time heartily sick of Rooshkulum, especially the old lady, who had never left her bed; and one morning, feeling something better, she called the farmer to her bedside, and addressed him thus:--"You know, my son, that your agreement with that rascal will terminate when you both shall hear the cuckoo. Now, in my youth I could imitate the cuckoo so well that I have had them flying round me. Put me up, therefore, in the big holly bush; take him along with you to cut a tree near; I will then cry 'cuckoo!' 'cuckoo!' and the agreement will be broken!" said she, chuckling to herself.

This seemed a capital idea; so the farmer lifted his mother out of bed, and put her up into the holly bush, calling Rooshkulum to bring the big axe, for that he intended to fell a tree. Rooshkulum did as he was desired, and commenced cutting down a certain tree, which the farmer pointed out. And not long had he been thus engaged when the old lady in the holly bush cried out "cuckoo!" "cuckoo!" "Hah! what's that?" said the farmer; "that sounds like the cuckoo!"

"O, that cannot be," said Rooshkulum, "for this is winter!"

But now the cuckoo was heard, beyond a doubt.

"Well," said Rooshkulum, "before I've done with you, I'll go and see this cuckoo."

"Why, you stupid fool!" said the farmer, "no man ever saw the cuckoo."

"Never mind!" said Rooshkulum, "it can be no harm to look. Wouldn't you think, now, that the cuckoo was speaking out of the holly bush?"

"O, not at all!--perhaps she is five miles away. Come away at once and give up your place. Did not we both hear her?"

"Stop!" said Rooshkulum; "stay back! don't make a noise! There! did not you see something moving? Ay! THAT must be the cuckoo!"

So saying, he hurled the axe up into the holly bush with his whole force, cutting away the branches, scattering the leaves and berries, and with one blow severing the head from the shoulders of the farmer's mother!

"O!" said the farmer, "my poor old mother! O! what have you done, you villain! You have murdered my mother!"

"O, very well!" said Rooshkulum, as the farmer continued looking at his mother, and lamenting, "perhaps you also remember our own little agreement. I have but too good reason to think that you and your accursed old mother, by your schemes, caused the death of my two fine brothers. But now for the fulfilment of my share of the bargain!"

Share on: WhatsApp @Hash Facebook Tweet