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  XXX.

  _The Irish Highwayman._

  It was before the introduction of railways, into Ireland at any rate,that a certain Irish Bishop had occasion to visit Dublin. There was,no doubt, a public conveyance of some sort or another of which thegood Bishop might have availed himself, but his lordship was a portlygentleman and fond of his ease; besides which his wife and daughterwished to make the journey with him, and they never would for a momenthave listened to travelling in a dirty car or coach, so their owncomfortable carriage was got ready. I said the Bishop was portly andfond of his ease, but by that I did not mean to infer that all bishopsare stout, for I knew one who was a very lean man; nor did I mean thatportly personages are all fond of their ease, that is, not more sothan the rest of us are; nor do I now mean that a lean man does notappreciate comfort. Be that as it may, the Bishop in question had ahandsome comfortable carriage which he thought he might as well use;and, indeed, as his lady and daughter were going with him, he had nochoice, so the carriage was used and his lordship's horses too; and tosave both, as well as the ladies, the journey was performed in easystages.

  Now the Bishop was an advocate for a moderate amount of exercise, andfor this reason, as well as to spare his horses as much as possible, hemade a point of alighting from his carriage at the foot of the hills,and walking up to the top, unless, indeed, the hill proved too steep.

  On one occasion he had loitered behind admiring the scenery, whichwas particularly wild and beautiful, and the carriage had got out ofsight. However, as it always waited for him at the top of the hill,that did not trouble him as long as he had only the difficulties of theroad to contend with; but soon danger appeared in the shape of an uglylooking fellow, who, suddenly starting up from behind a heap of stones,stood right in front of him, effectually stopping his progress, whichwas particularly vexatious. From the appearance of the stranger theBishop felt very much inclined to quicken his pace.

  _The Bishop and the Highwayman._]

  "What can I do for you, my good Man?" said the Bishop very civilly, andin his softest voice, for he did not like the look of the man, nor of adangerous looking club he held in his hand.

  "As your Honour is so civil as to ask," the fellow said, "you may firstof all give me your money, for I'm sartain sure so kind a gintlemanwould not like to see a poor fellow in distress, when you can relievehim by only putting your hand in your pocket."

  Civilly as he spoke he was a determined looking rascal, with whom itwould evidently be of no use to argue, so the Bishop gave him whatsilver he had about him, hoping to get off with that; but he wasmistaken, for the fellow had no sooner put it into his coat pocket thanhe said--

  "Your Honour has made a mistake, for it's sure I am a thoroughgintleman like you could not intend to give only a few paltryshillings. But I beg your Riverence's pardon, for I see now that youare an ornament of the blessed Church. It's some gold pieces youintended to give me; but it will save your Riverence trouble if yougive me your purse." This was accompanied by a scarcely perceptiblemovement of the club, which however seemed a very convincing argument,for his lordship immediately produced his purse, which as quicklyfollowed the silver into the capacious pocket.

  "I'm sorry to trouble your Honour, your Riverence I mane, any further,for I see you're in a hurry, and it's beg your pardon I do for thesame; but I judge you're going to Dublin, and you can have everythingin the big city for the asking; but here nothing can be got for love ormoney, and you see that I want a new coat and hat. Now I'm sure so kinda gintleman won't mind changing yours with me."

  "This is too much, my good Man," the Bishop said, driven to resistanceby this extraordinary demand. "Recollect that you are breaking the lawsof God and man, and think of the punishment in this world and the next.Be satisfied, for you have taken all my money, and my clothes I willnot part with."

  "Now, sure," was the answer, "your Honor's Riverence makes a mistake,for you gave me that bit of money, and it is that very kindness makesme not believe that you mane to refuse me now. Pray consider, and I'llwait with pleasure for another answer, for I know you'll be sorry."He stepped back a few paces, and, as if to while away the time whilstwaiting for the answer, he flourished his cudgel about, first over hishead, then on one side and then on the other.

  What was to be done? The poor Bishop saw that help was hopeless andresistance equally so, and, after a few moments' hesitation, he tookoff his coat and hat, laying them on the heap of stones by his side.

  "Now, bless your Riverence," the fellow said, "I knew you would notrefuse me; but after all your kindness I cannot allow you to be withouta coat and hat. It would be neither comfortable nor dacent, and,therefore, just put on my coat. Indeed I'll not take a refusal," hecontinued, as the Bishop hesitated, and he helped his lordship on withhis tattered garment. He then removed his unresisting victim's wig andplaced his old hat on his head.

  "Now I hope you intend to let me go," the Bishop said.

  "I have one more favour to ask, and then I will bid your Riverence avery good morning. I must beg the loan of your watch till I have thehonor of seeing you again, for there is no watch or clock for milesaround, and it is very awkward, for I don't know when to be at my work,and I'm afraid of cheating my employer out of some of the time due tohim. Your Honor can easily get another."

  "Will you never be satisfied? But beware of keeping me any longer, forthere is my carriage close by, and the servants, whom I have only tocall to my help." This the Bishop said in despair, pointing along theroad as he spoke, but he had a quick reply.

  "Don't trouble yourself to call, for I saw your Riverence's carriagepass, and it is far out of hearing." This his lordship knew well, so hegave up his watch, and was at length allowed to depart. He hurried on,for he was afraid of another demand being made upon him, and it was notlong before he reached his carriage.

  Much astonishment was caused by his extraordinary appearance, and afterhe had related his adventure his wife said to him: "Throw off thatfilthy coat, my Dear, for we shall soon reach a town where you can buysomething more befitting you to wear."

  "Not so easily, my Dear," was his reply, "for I have not a shilling ofmoney left."

  "Well, never mind," his wife said, "take off the nasty thing, forpositively you cannot come into the carriage that figure. I'll give youmy cloak to cover your shoulders."

  The good man was not used to resist his wife, so he took off the coat,throwing it upon the road. As he did so some silver fell out, whichinduced him to make his servant examine it, and to his joy and reliefall his property was found in the pocket.

  The party reached Dublin without any further adventure, and a few daysafter received intelligence of the capture of the Highwayman.

  XXXI.

  _Fiddling Jackey._

  There was once a little boy, who led a very unhappy life, for hisfather was tipsy from morning till night, and he had no mother tosoothe and console him when he had met with ill-treatment, whichhappened almost daily.

  I cannot tell you exactly how long ago this was, but it must be a long,long time, for there were fairies then, and the birds, trees, andflowers sang and spoke, which you know has not happened within yourrecollection, at all events.

  Jackey's father, for Jackey was the little boy's name, was villagemusician, and had once played the violin remarkably well, but sincehe had taken to drinking had grown so careless that his scraping wasa horror to all who could hear at all, that the dogs even howled indisgust, and probably in pain, for the noise they made was piteous inthe extreme.

  Now, when the drunken fiddler reeled home at night, accompanied bythe most dissolute of the village, the shouting of these, the horridscraping of the fiddle, and the discordant chorus of some twenty orthirty dogs, made the more steady and respectable portion of thecommunity tremble in their beds, with some undefined fear.

  All this, you must know, happened in Germany, where in every cottageof the villages there is, at least, one dog, and where the watchman,who is gen
erally the swineherd as well, no doubt was not over soberhimself, and more likely to add to the noise than stop it.

  Though the fiddler was a sad reprobate, and his playing of the worstdescription, he was tolerated; for the fact is that the most of theelder portion of the villagers cared only for drinking, and the youngerones thought of nothing but dancing; so he was good enough for themafter all.

  His disorderly life and cruelty had killed his poor wife, Jackey'smother, who would have looked upon death as a real blessing, had shenot feared for the future of her young son; however, Jackey, who waseight years old, had the thoughtlessness of youth and good health tosupport him, though, it is true, he cried bitterly after his father hadbeen beating him, and felt sorrowful enough when he had not enough toeat, which happened but too often.

  Jackey still remembered the time when, though at rare intervals, hisfather played really well; and the sweet sounds of music had so enteredhis very soul that he felt a secret consolation within him, amidst allhis troubles.

  This love of music, though it consoled him, occasionally caused himmore bitter sorrow than the most cruel beatings; for when he looked atthe violin, hanging against the wall, neglected and covered with mud,he thought of the sweet sounds that were still within it, though therewas no one to bring them out.

  Now, one day, when Jackey had been staring longer than usual at theviolin, and his mind was filled with sad thoughts, his father happenedto come in, and the poor boy, mustering up all his courage, said--

  "My dear Father, do not be angry if I ask what the poor fiddle has doneto you that you neglect it so? Take care or it will die too, as my deargood mother did, of a broken heart."

  The only answer to this was a sound thrashing; and, as the beating hadbeen more severe than usual, so Jackey cried longer and more bitterly,all by himself, for his father had gone again; but, as the pain grewless, his crying was not so violent nor loud; then he thought he hearda voice, like sobbing, come from the wall.

  There was no mistaking it, the sobbing proceeded from the violin, andJackey's tears burst forth afresh; but there must be an end to allthings, and when he had become calmer, he got on a chair, so as to benearer the instrument, and whispered--

  "My dear Fiddle, you pity me, and now I have a friend in the place ofmy good lost mother. But you, too, I am afraid, are not more happy thanshe was. Tell me if I can do anything for you."

  "I do pity you," the violin answered, "for you are a good boy, and Iwish to console you for the loss of your mother, and make you forgetall the hardships you have to suffer. At the same time, you can do mea very great service. Take me down, and when you have cleaned me andput me in proper order, I will teach you how to make me sing again,better than ever I used to do. Then I shall be happy, and you, my poorBoy, will forget your sorrow, for I know that sweet sounds will consoleyou in all your troubles."

  _The neglected Fiddle repining._]

  Jackey said, sorrowfully, "Oh, how I wish to make you happy! But if Itake you down, my father will beat me, and, what is worse, perhaps, inhis passion, throw you against the wall, and dash you to pieces."

  "Be not afraid, but do as I tell you," the violin answered; "you knowthat your father is at the tavern all day long till dusk, when he comesto fetch me, and if, by chance, he does come in, he never noticesanything. I promise you no harm shall happen to you; so take me downand carry me, with the bow, into the forest, where, by the side of thestream, I will teach you how to make me bring forth sweet sounds."

  "You know better than I do what is safe to do, so I will take you tothe forest, as you tell me."

  As he said this, Jackey took down the violin, and having cleaned andtuned it, according to its own directions, he carried it and the bowinto the forest, where he seated himself by the side of the rivulet.

  The breeze played between the leaves and branches of the trees, theleaves and branches rustled, the birds sang sweetly, the streammurmured softly, and all seemed to say--

  "Welcome, Jackey! welcome to the forest!"

  "Oh, how delightful it is here!" Jackey cried; "and now, my dearFiddle, teach me to imitate all these sweet sounds."

  The violin told him how to hold the bow and where to place his fingers;and all the birds came round him, first one whistling a note till hecould imitate it, and then another giving him the next note, and so on;the rivulet, too, and the wind assisted; and then came the nightingaleand taught him how to join the different notes together, that theymight harmonize and form sounds agreeable to the ear.

  Jackey was so attentive, and did all so well, that the trees, theflowers, the stream, and all the birds cried out--

  "Bravo, Jackey!"

  As soon as evening began to draw near Jackey put up his fiddle andprepared to go home, when all the voices, with one accord, cried--

  "Come again soon, and we will sing together."

  Jackey went the very next day, and every succeeding day, and he madethe flowers join in the universal harmony. His dear fiddle seconded himin all his endeavours, so that very shortly he imitated all the voicesof the forest with the greatest accuracy.

  It happened about this time that the landlord of the village inn died,leaving a widow, who wished for nothing better than to give him asuccessor as speedily as possible; but though she was rich, and thebusiness most thriving, yet no suitors appeared.

  Jackey's father, in his drunken moments, thought he would propose tothe widow, for he said to himself that, when master of the inn, hecould have as much drink as he liked without paying for it; but whena little more sober his courage failed him, for she was the veriestshrew, and the charms of her person were no more engaging than thoseof her character.

  Her hair was neither red, brown, nor black, but a sort of dirtycoloured mixture of the three, and each hair seemed to go a differentway. Her nose was very, very long, not projecting, but hanging down,like the beak of some of the small tribes of parrots. I think thelove-birds have such beaks, but I can scarcely compare her to those,for certainly she had nothing of the love about her. Well, her nose,anyhow, was like a parrot's beak, but flattened down, and that on oneside, or else it would have covered her mouth, which would have beenno great harm, for that was as ugly a feature as any other, and notimproved by having only half the due number of teeth, which, unlikethe nose, stuck out instead of hanging down. Her eyes were like thoseof a cat, and one squinted awfully. Shaggy eyebrows and a pointedhairy chin complete her portrait. Her figure was long, lank, andshapeless--shapeless not meaning no shape at all, but an ugly shape.

  Most people have some redeeming qualities, or quality at least, but noone had yet discovered hers, and no one had been found bold enoughto propose to the interesting widow, though she let it be clearlyunderstood that she wished to remain a widow no longer.

  Jackey's father had so often made up his mind to make her an offer thatat last his mind became familiarized to the horror, and if not in lovewith the widow, he was decidedly so with her beer and spirits; so oneevening, having screwed up his courage to the highest pitch, he, in afew words, offered himself as a husband.

  The widow took but a few minutes to consider, that, though he was adrunken, worthless fellow, he was better than no husband at all; soshe did not give him time to draw back, but accepted him with all hisfaults.

  The wedding followed with the least possible loss of time, and theguests drank deeply to the health and happiness of the bride andbridegroom, but the happy husband drank more than any of them. This wasa happy beginning; but how short-lived is happiness, for to his thiswas not only the beginning but also the end.

  How changed was everything the very next day! Beer and spirits werecarefully locked up, and the poor fiddler was put under the water-curetreatment, and this was the first of a series of strictly sober days.He did not resign himself to petticoat government without a struggle,but in every way she was more than his match.

  Adversity is the bitterest of all medicines, but frequently acts mostbeneficially on the soul, if not on the body. So it proved with thefiddler
, for though, during the first few days of his new life, histemper was sourer than ever, by degrees his spirit was broken, and theoutbursts of passion became less frequent. Passion was of no avail, forit never gained him his object, and his amiable spouse still remainedhis better half.

  Example had its effect also, for as he daily suffered from his wife'sintolerable temper, her unamiability, which at first roused his anger,now caused disgust and horror, and occasionally he could not helpreflecting that in many respects he had been like her. As yet theimprovement in his character was involuntary, forced upon him, as itwere, and failed to soothe his mind and feelings; but Jackey, beingtreated with less harshness, began to feel for the first time that hehad a father.

  The good boy, looking on his father now without fear, saw the dejectionhe was constantly labouring under, and, as much as he had dreaded andalmost abhorred the harsh brutal man, he now pitied his sufferingfather, so that he took every opportunity to get near to him, sometimesventuring a remark; and one day, when he saw him in a particularlydesponding mood, he fetched the violin and played the voices of theforest to him.

  Jackey's father was at first bewildered by the tender emotions towhich his heart had so long been a stranger, but as the sweet soundscontinued, it seemed as if his nature were changed and a new lifedawned upon him. He clasped his son to his breast and burst into tears.When he became a little calm, he said--

  "How beautifully you play, Jackey! How did you learn? But why inquire?You have always been a good boy, and kinder, better spirits than thoseof the earth, seeing you so neglected by your unnatural father, havetaken compassion on you. I have led a bad life, but now I see myfaults, and I will be always kind to you, my Son. Oh, Jackey, your goodmother will forgive me for all my past cruelty when she sees how Iwatch over her dear child!"