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THE SPALPEEN.

BY P. M TEAGUE, ESQ.

CHAPTER 11.

Spalpeen proceeds on his way home.-Entertained on the borders of Kilkenny by Larry Corbett, the herdsman.-Hospitality of the Irish.

THE day was beautiful, though the season was pretty far advanced, for it was late in autumn. One more parting look at the farmer's house, one more caress of the farmer's dogs as he bid them "go back!". another sigh, to think that three years' faithful services should have been thus requited,—and in a state of doubt and sorrowful perplexity, but vain regret, Connor darted into the road by which he had arrived, and commenced his journey homeward with but a few shillings more in his pocket than he had brought.

"Am I always to be out of luck? cried he. "How am I to face the wife and the children with the trifle I have about me?" and pulling out his hoard, he found that six shillings, two sixpences, and a few pennies and halfpennies, formed his entire stock. "Well," continued Connor to himself, "it's a blessed thing that I'm out of that house alive and well, at any rate. Who knows but worse might have been intended? And yet, for the matter of that who ever saw James Fitzpatrick wrong anybody? Who ever heard him telling a lie, or playing false with a friend? I'm not up to this business at all at all, it beats me out entirely. And sure I may go back again, if I like it wasn't that the way of him? Faix! and I know right well what Nelly would say to that,-and even young Jemmy, if the boy has a grain of sense in his head. No-I shall be laughed at enough as it is, without trying my luck again in Leinster. The neighbours will think me a fool, or a rogue perhaps, that I've buried my earnings. Well, I must just make the best of my bargain, now, at any rate."

With these, and many similar reflections, Connor pursued his journey, now and then retarding his steps, and then hurrying on, as his impatient starts and apostrophes overpowered his ideas.

He was now approaching the borders of Kilkenny, and being well acquainted with an honest herdsman, whose name was Larry Corbett, and who lived within a few perches of the high road, he stepped into his cabin just as the evening was closing in, and was kindly welcomed for the night. Lighting his pipe, and sitting down by the fire, his cares seemed alleviated, or to be gradually dissipating in smoke, like the fumes of his tobacco.

And here I may remark (or rather ratify the remarks of many others), that hospitality is seldom wanting in this land, so often traduced by its adversaries. The forlorn wanderer is rarely denied admittance to a cabin, however humble; while the friend is received with open arms, and with a welcome more than equal to the means frequently possessed by its poor inmates to fulfil. Paddy has a soul, a grace, an earnestness about him upon these occasions, which might do honour to a palace.

CHAPTER III.

Travelling without money proved advisable.-Pedlars: a dangerous business.Tipperary quickly traversed without broken bones (fortunate).-Sable glimpse of the county of Limerick. Night adventure. Return of Spalpeen. Striking argument against whiskers.

OUR honest spalpeen having exchanged the courtesies of his pipe frequently with the herdsman, and given and received an overflowing budget of news, laid himself down to sleep, and with early dawn recommenced his journey. To those unacquainted with Ireland, it may appear singular with what expedition great distances are performed on foot by people of this description,-nay, even by little boys, or "gossoons," who have been known to keep up a sort of trot thirty-five miles in the course of a day. One night more Connor would be obliged to seek a hospitable shelter and fireside; but the third would bring him to his own lowly cabin, once more to be reunited to his wife and children. Happy fellow! he had become more reconciled to his fate; his limbs were hardy and active, and onwards he bounded with hasty strides. No wonder, therefore, that ere he had gone many miles he should overtake two travelling pedlars, the weight of whose heavy packs prevented their walking so quickly as himself. Connor, however, was too social a being to pass them by; moreover, he soon found that they were merry fellows, well stocked with as large an assortment of news as wares; that they were young men from Dublin, making their first trial at this business, in which they had been very successful, having visited Carlow and Kilkenny, and were now preparing to dazzle the eyes of men and maidens in Tipperary. Their company, therefore, was highly agreeable; but when they spoke of their polished knives and scissors, bobbins, tape, and muslin, his heart was saddened as he thought of the small pittance he had left. As his boy Jemmy, however, was a tolerable penman, he selected a sharp sixpenny knife for his use, and a pair of scissors for Nelly, which he put carefully by.

The town of Thurles was then distant from them about ten miles, when, arriving at a particular turn of the road, one pedlar said to the other,

"Here we are, faith at the very place described by the men at the inn where we slept. This must be the oak tree, and that the gate, and yonder the footpath."

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By dad! the very thing," replied the other. "They were mighty dacent boys entirely, to save us three miles of a short cut to the town."

Connor, who was as willing to save time and shoe-leather as any man, was on the point of following them over a stile, when suddenly thinking of the farmer's maxims, and pausing, he repeated to himself the first piece of advice.

"As you travel homeward, never step out of the common road, nor attempt to make any short cuts, or cross any fields by way of lessening your distance."

He therefore excused himself to the two pedlars, and went on upon the beaten road.

Nothing remarkable happened until he had nearly reached the town, when, sitting upon a bank, wringing their hands in despair, who should he see but his two late fellow-travellers.

"O my poor fellows, and what in the world is the matter?-—and what has happened to you?" cried Connor.

At first they could hardly speak, but after a few minutes' pause told their tale of distress. They informed Connor that the pathway they took led them into a small thick wood, and that they were attacked by six desperate men with heavy sticks in their hands, and their faces blackened with bog-dirt; and that, besides having been robbed of both their packs, stripped of most of their clothes, and all their money, they had been cruelly abused and beaten. They added also, that they were quite sure, by their voices, that two at least of the number among these villians had been their companions at the inn where they had passed the previous night. Connor heard their tale with pity, and felt great regret that he had not given the pedlars an equal share of the farmer's first piece of advice. But then, again, he reflected that they would probably have only laughed at it, and mentally added,-who knows but I'd have gone with them, after all, if I had not kissed the book? Such consolation as it was in his power to bestow was freely administered by poor Connor; and, low as his own stock of silver was, he not only gave them a shilling a-piece from his little pittance, but promised he would send them speedy assistance from the town. Nor did he fail to do so, or cease to thank God that he had followed the counsel of one who seemed much better aware than himself of what might happen to him; though, while congratulating himself in this way, his conscience smote him as he called to mind his secret thoughts when receiving Fitzpatrick's advice, and that he had gone so far as to whisper to himself upon that occasion that he was listening only to a piece of nonsense. Indeed, he was in two minds whether he should not return and ask the farmer's pardon on his knees, and also admit that he was already his debtor, seeing that if he had not been previously instructed by a much wiser head, he would at this very moment have found himself stripped of everything he possessed, and beaten, wounded, or perhaps killed, into the bargain!

Having sent people from the town to the assistance of the unhappy pedlars, he hastened through it, and walking briskly forward, came at length to a clear spring by the road-side, where he sat down, and with a keen appetite attacked the good mistress's loaf, concluding with a draught of pure water. He then washed his face, hands, and feet, and praying for his late master, and thanking God for so great an escape, he pursued his journey rapidly till the close of day.

Connor had by this time crossed the county of Tipperary, and had just reached the borders of the county of Limerick, when the night became so dark that he could hardly find his way. He had hoped to have reached a cabin a little beyond O'Brien's bridge, in the county of Clare, the owner of which he knew; but he was tired enough with his march, and therefore the better pleased to discern a light in the window of a large farm-house, which he approached, and knocking first at the door, and then entering with the usual salutation of God save all here!" was kindly received by a young girl, who told him he would be welcome.

Connor, having walked forward into the large kitchen, was much cheered by the sight of a blazing fire. He sat down upon a stool, and, "reddening his pipe," began, as usual, to smoke and chat with

those about him. To this succeeded some hot potatoes, with a can of milk, brought by the servant girl; and when he had satisfied his appetite, he began to look about him, and soon saw that he was indeed in a most comfortable house, where everything denoted an abundance of wealth. Many hams and flitches of bacon were hanging up in goodly rows over his head; the dressers were loaded with bright pewter dishes of all sorts and sizes; there were two closets with glass doors, through which he saw a great deal of china and silver; and the lowing of cattle, bleating of sheep, and grunting of pigs (sounds so familiar to his ears), denoted as well-stocked a farm as Fitzpatrick's.

His eyes were next directed to the inmates of the house,—and the first person that attracted his attention was a fine handsome young woman, very gaily dressed. She was bustling about here and there, but he remarked that she would sometimes stop before the clock, as if wishing the time to move on a little faster. He then observed two very decent men, who appeared like middling farmers on their way to a fair; and, on addressing them, he found his conjectures right, that they were bound to the fair of O'Brien's Bridge, and had stopped at the house a short time before he came. But to his farther questions, as to whom the house belonged, they were nearly as ignorant as himself, knowing only that the proprietor's name was Kennedy; for they had come from a greater distance than the spalpeen himself.

Connor had frequently noticed the figure of a remarkably fine old man, with white hair, who was seated in a comfortable arm-chair near the fire, and had more than once spoken words of kindness to them all. He appeared, however, much fatigued, and his boots, which were drying near him, showed that he had been lately on horseback. He had evidently had his dinner, and could hardly keep himself awake, but would every now and then give a yawn, rub his hands, and look towards the clock, as if impatient for bed-time, when the young handsome woman wonld come to him, and pat him on the cheek, and caress him.

The travellers could not tell Connor who this old gentleman was, but said they supposed it must be the young woman's father, and that they had no doubt she would be a rich prize for a bachelor. His curiosity, however, was not yet satisfied. He had still an unaccountable desire to know more about the place and its inmates ; and, watching his opportunity when the servant girl was occupied near him, he asked her, and was immediately told that the old man was her master, and the young lady her mistress, and that they had been married a few months before, and were consequently man and wife.

No sooner had Connor heard this, but the second piece of advice given by Fitzpatrick came much more vividly to his remembrance than the first.

"Whenever you have occasion to stop at any sheebeen or farm-house you do not know, particularly at night, look well about you; and if you should happen to see that the owner of the house is an old man, and the mistress young and handsome, away with you as soon as you can! But do not lie down, or sleep a wink in that house.”

The words," away with you-do not lie down or sleep a wink in that house," seemed actually to ring in his ears. He had Fitzpa

trick's image before him, and the words, "Have you got this by heart?" were repeated, as by an echo, in his breast. He therefore watched his opportunity, and when the old gentleman's time for going to bed had arrived, and the mistress and servant were attending him up stairs, and the travellers, drawing closer to the fire, had turned their backs towards him, he rose, and quietly raising the latch of the yard-door, slipped out of the house without making any noise.

It was a cold stormy night; and, creeping forward with the greatest caution, he soon found that he was in the haggard, where there appeared to him to be a great number of stacks of corn and hay. Wishing for a little rest, and with the intention of regaining the highway very early in the morning, he settled himself as snugly as he could on one side of a haystack least exposed to the wind, and drawing as much hay about him as he could do without making a noise, he expected soon to be asleep. In this, however, he found himself mistaken; for what with thoughts of his wife and children, and Fitzpatrick's family, and the pieces of advice, and the pedlars and the robbers, and all that he had seen upon the road, to say nothing of the old man and his young handsome wife, not a good wink of sleep could he get. Now and then he would perhaps doze a little; but the slightest grunt of a pig, or movement of a cow, or horse in a stable, would cause a start, accompanied by an indescribable dread, so that he now lost all drowsiness. It did not escape his notice that there was not a single man, or boy, or dog, about the premises. This used not to be the way at Fitzpatrick's, he thought to himself. By and by he heard the kitchen clock strike eleven, when immediately after a curtain was drawn against a small window, where a light had been burning, the candle was put out, and everything seemed hushed and tranquil in sleep.

"And now," said Connor to himself, " don't you think but you're a great fool, to have thrust yourself out of a warm kitchen, and gone to bed to a great stack of hay, when you might have had a shakedown by a good kitchen fire?—and not to be able to sleep a wink, after all, barring a nod or two, and a doze now and again, and thinking of thieves, and robbers, and cut-throats, and-but what's that?"

Intently did Connor listen, for he surely heard the approach of a horse. The kitchen clock had long struck twelve-it might be now nearly one in the morning; but he could be no longer mistaken. The horse approached nearer and nearer, he heard some one dismounting, then the gate was opened, and a person advanced leading the horse. Connor held his breath, and lay quite still, while he could distinctly trace the outline of a figure, which seemed to be approaching the very spot where he was concealed; and, in fact, had the man advanced two steps farther, he must have stumbled over the poor spalpeen.

Fortunate indeed was it for Connor that he had neither been perceived by the stranger, nor had been missed from the kitchen, where, most probably, it had been supposed that he had coiled himself up in some corner, and gone to sleep. The man, who appeared tall and powerful, pulled off his great coat, and laid it over the saddle of his horse. Connor was then horrified by hearing the ominous "click" of a pistol. A cold perspiration settled on his