Part 5 (2/2)
He then laid his mouth to hers, and immediately a sound, nearly resembling a pistol-shot, was heard through every part of the house. It was, in fact, a kiss upon a scale of such magnitude, that the Emperor of Morocco might not blush to be charged with it. A reconciliation took place, and in due time it was determined that Peter, as he understood poteen, should open a shebeen house. The moment this resolution was made, the wife kept coaxing him, until he took a small house at the cross-roads before alluded to, where, in the course of a short time, he was established, if not in his own line, yet in a mode of life approximating to it as nearly as the inclination of Ellish would permit.
The cabin which they occupied had a kitchen in the middle, and a room at each end of it, in one of which was their own humble chaff bed, with its blue quilted drugget cover; in the other stood a couple of small tables, some stools, a short form, and one chair, being a present from his father-in-law. These const.i.tuted Peter's whole establishment, so far +as it defied the gauger. To this we must add! a five-gallon keg of spirits hid in the garden, and a roll of smuggled tobacco. From the former he bottled, over night, as much as was usually drank the following day; and from the tobacco, which was also kept under ground, he cut, with the same caution, as much as to-morrow's exigencies might require. This he kept in his coat-pocket, a place where the gauger would never think of searching for it, divided into halfpenny and pennyworths, ounces or half-ounces, according as it might be required; and as he had it without duty, the liberal spirit in which he dealt it out to his neighbors soon brought him a large increase of custom.
Peter's wife was an excellent manager, and he himself a pleasant, good-humored man, full of whim and inoffensive mirth. His powers of amus.e.m.e.nt were of a high order, considering his station in life and his want of education. These qualities contributed, in a great degree, to bring both the young and old to his house during the long winter nights, in order to hear the fine racy humor with which he related his frequent adventures and battles with excis.e.m.e.n. In the summer evenings, he usually engaged a piper or a fiddler, and had a dance, a contrivance by which he not only rendered himself popular, but increased his business.
In this mode of life, the greatest source of anxiety to Peter and Ellish was the difficulty of not offending their friends by refusing to give them credit. Many plans, were, with great skill and forethought, devised to obviate this evil; but all failed. A short board was first procured, on which they got written with chalk--
”No credit giv'n--barrin' a thrifle to Pether's friends.”
Before a week pa.s.sed, after this intimation, the number of ”Pether's friends” increased so rapidly, that neither he nor Ellish knew the half of them. Every scamp in the parish was hand and glove with him: the drinking tribe, particularly, became desperately attached to him and Ellish. Peter was naturally kind-hearted, and found that his firmest resolutions too often gave way before the open flattery with which he was a.s.sailed. He then changed his hand, and left Ellish to bear the brunt of their blarney. Whenever any person or persons were seen approaching the house, Peter, if he had reason to suspect an attack upon his indulgence, prepared himself for a retreat. He kept his eye to the window, and if they turned from the direct line of the road, he immediately slipped into bed, and lay close in order to escape them. In the meantime they enter.
”G.o.d save all here. Ellish, agra machree, how are you?”
”G.o.d save you kindly! Faix, I'm mid-dim', I thank you, Condy: how is yourself, an' all at home?”
”Devil a heartier, barrin' my father, that's touched wid a loss of appet.i.te afther his meals--ha, ha, ha!”
”Musha, the d.i.c.kens be an you, Condy, but you're your father's son, any way; the best company in Europe is the same man. Throth, whether you're jokin' or not, I'd be sarry to hear of anything to his disadvantage, dacent man. Boys, won't you go down to the other room?”
”Go way wid yez, boys, till I spake to Ellish here about the affairs o' the nation. Why, Ellish, you stand the cut all to pieces. By the contints o' the book, you do; Pether doesn't stand it half so well. How is he, the thief?”
”Throth, he's not well, to-day, in regard of a smotherin' about the heart he tuck this mornin' afther his breakfast. He jist laid himself on the bed a while, to see if it would go off of him--G.o.d be praised for all his marcies!”
”Thin, upon my _sole_vation, I'm sarry to hear it, and so will all at home, for there's not in the parish we're sittin' in a couple that our family has a greater regard an' friends.h.i.+p for, than him and yourself.
Faix, my modher, no longer ago than Friday night last, argued down Bartle Meegan's throath, that you and Biddy Martin wor the two portliest weemen that comes into the chapel. G.o.d forgive myself, I was near quarrelin' wid Bartle on the head of it, bekase I tuck my modher's part, as I had a good right to do.”
”Thrath, I'm thankful to you both, Condy, for your kindness.”
”Oh, the sarra taste o' kindness was in it at all, Ellish, 'twas only the truth; an' as long as I live, I'll stand up for that.”
”Arrah, how is your aunt down at Carntall?”
”Indeed, thin, but middlin', not gettin' her health: she'll soon give the crow a puddin', any way; thin, Ellish, you thief, I'm in for the yallow boys. Do you know thim that came in wid me?”
”Why, thin, I can't say I do. Who are they, Condy?”
”Why one o' them's a bachelor to my sisther Norah, a very dacent boy, indeed--him wid the frieze jock upon him, an' the buckskin breeches.
The other three's from Teernabraighera beyant. They're related to my brother-in-law, Mick Dillon, by his first wife's brother-in-law's uncle.
They're come to this neighborhood till the 'Sizes, bad luck to them, goes over; for you see, they're in a little throuble.”
”The Lord grant them safe out of it, poor boys!”
”I brought them up here to treat them, poor fellows; an', Ellish, avourneen, you must credit me for whatsomever we may have. The thruth is, you see, that when we left home, none of us had any notion of drinkin' or I'd a put somethin' in my pocket, so that I'm taken at an average.--Bud-an'-age! how is little Dan? Sowl, Ellish, that goorsoon, when he grows up, will be a credit to you. I don't think there's a finer child in Europe of his age, so there isn't.”
”Indeed, he's a good child, Condy. But Condy, avick, about givin'
credit:--by thim five cra.s.ses, if I could give score to any boy in the parish, it 'ud be to yourself. It was only last night that I made a promise against doin' such a thing for man or mortual. We're a'most broken an' harrish'd out o' house an' home by it; an' what's more, Condy, we intend to give up the business. The landlord's at us every day for his rint, an' we owe for the two last kegs we got, but hasn't a rap to meet aither o' thim; an' enough due to us if we could get it together: an' whisper, Condy, atween ourselves, that's what ails Pettier, although he doesn't wish to let an to any one about it.”
”Well, but you know I'm safe, Ellish?”
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