Part 38 (1/2)

”Surely, Thomas, you have been in love yourself, too, now, with Peggy-Anne, and your present wife? When you asked them to marry you, you had to pretend it anyhow. What did you say to them?”

”Is it me? Well it was this way; me and Peggy-Anne, we went the pair of us to Scarva on the twelfth. Did ever ye hear tell of the battle o'

Scarva? I mind it well. I had a wheen o' cloves in me pocket, and Peggy-Anne she had a wee screw o' pepperment sweeties. Says I te her:

”'Peggy-Anne, wud ye conceit a clove?'

”And says she te me:

”'Tak a sweetie, Tummus!'

”And I went in the mornin' and giv in the names till the Reverend Crampsey; so I did.”

After all, there are many worse ways of concluding the business, and few that would be more full of symbol. There is the mutual help; the inevitable ”give and take” of married life; the strength and pungency of the manly clove; the melting sweetness of the maidenly peppermint; two souls united in the savour of both scents combined rising to heaven on the summer air.

I could not recall in the tale or history, or the varied reminiscences of married friends on this interesting topic, any manner of ”proposal”

more delicate and less ostentatious. Tummus graciously accepted my congratulations on his elegant good taste, but when I inquired about the preliminaries of his second alliance, he only shook his head and muttered, ”Them widdies! Them widdies!”

In this there is almost a suggestion that, like Captain Cuttle, he was taken at a disadvantage, but one can scarcely credit it. It seems impossible that he would not have extricated himself with the inspired dexterity of a Sherlock Holmes, or the happy resource of a Stanley Weyman hero, from whatever dilemma.

”As I was sayin',” he resumed, ”Did ever ye hear tell o' the battle o'

Scarva?”

Of course I had heard of it. Who has not heard of the Oberammergau of the North? There, in a gentleman's prettily wooded park, on a large open meadow sloping down to a clear running brook, is yearly enacted a veritable Pa.s.sion Play of the Battle of the Boyne.

”I suppose you have often seen it, Thomas.”

”I have that; many and many's a time. But there was wan battle that bate all--do ye know what I'm goin' te tell ye? I would give a hundred pounds te see thon agin--so I wud. Boys, oh! it was gran'. There was me own aunt's nephew was King William, and him on the top of the beautifullest white horse ever ye seen, with the mane o' him tied with wee loops o'

braid, or'nge and bleue. Himself had an or'nge scarfe on him and bleue feathers te his hat, just like one o' them for'n Princes, and his Field-marshal and Ginerals just the same, only not so gran'. And King James, they had a fine young horse for him that Dan Cooke bought off the Reverend Captain Jack in Moy Fair. But he set his ears back, and let a squeal out o' him, and got on with quare maneuvers whenever Andy Wilson came near him, and Andy--that was King James--he says:

”'I am no used with horse exercise, and I mis...o...b.. thon baste.'

”'But,' says Dan Cooke, 'up with ye sonny, and no more about it.'

”Well, with that Andy turned about, and, says he, 'I'll ride no blooded horse out of Moy. I'd sooner travel. I'll ride none, without I have me own mare that drawed me and hersel' and the childer out of Poyntzpa.s.s--so I won't.'

”With that the Field-marshals and the Ginerals and the Aiden-scampses away with them, and they found Andy's mare takin' her piece by the roadside, and not agreeable to comin' forbye. Howsumever she was coaxed along with an Aiden-scamp sootherin' her and complimentin' her: 'There's a daughter, and a wee jooel,' and a Field-marshal holdin' a bite o'

gra.s.s in the front o' her, and a Gineral persuadin' her in the rare; and they got King James ontil her, and the two armies was drawed up on the banks o' the wee burn that stood for the Boyne Watter. Then they began, quite friendly and agreeable-ike, temptin' other.

”'Come on, ye thirsty tyrant ye,' says William.

”'Come on, ye low, mane usurper,' says James.

”'Come on ye heedious enemy to ceevil and releegious liberty, ye,' says William.

”'Come on, ye glorious, pious, and immortal humbug, ye,' says James.