Read Ebook: The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry The Works of William Carleton Volume Three by Carleton William Flanery M L Illustrator

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Ebook has 739 lines and 73154 words, and 15 pages

"Phaddhy, ye thief o' the world," said Jim Dillon, when Father Philemy was gone, there's no comin' up to ye; how could you make sich a fool of his Rev'rence, as to tell im that Katty was dead, and that you had only four childher, an' you has eleven o' them, an' the wife in good health?"

"But won't he go mad when he hears you tould him nothing but lies?"

"Not now, Tim," answered Phaddhy--"not now; thank God,--I'm not a poor man, an' he'll keep his temper. I'll warrant you the horsewhip won't be up now, although, afore this, I wouldn't say but it might--though the poorest day I ever was, 'id's myself that wouldn't let priest or friar lay a horsewhip to my back, an' that you know, Tim."

Phaddhy's sagacity, however, was correct; for, a short time after this conversation, Father Philemy, when collecting his oats, gave him a call, laughed heartily at the sham account of Katty's death, examined young Briney in his Latin, who was called after his uncle, pronounced him very cute, and likely to become a great scholar--promised his interest with the bishop to get him into Maynooth, and left the family, after having shaken hands with, and stroked down the heads of all the children.

When Phaddhy, on the Sunday in question, heard the public notice given of the Station about to be held in his house, notwithstanding his correct knowledge of Father Philemy's character, on which he looked with a competent portion of contempt, he felt a warmth of pride about his heart, that arose from the honor of having a station, and of entertaining the clergy, in their official capacity, under his own roof, and at his own expense--that gave him, he thought, a personal consequence, which even the "stockin' of guineas" and the Linaskey farm were unable, of themselves, to confer upon him. He did enjoy, 'tis true, a very fair portion of happiness on succeeding to his brother's property; but this would be a triumph over the envious and ill-natured remarks which several of his neighbors and distant relations had taken the liberty of indulging in against him, on the occasion of his good fortune. He left the chapel, therefore, in good spirits, whilst Briney, on the contrary, hung a lip of more melancholy pendency than usual, in dread apprehension of the examination that he expected to be inflicted on him by his Reverence at the station.

"Well, Briney," said Phaddy, as the father and son returned home, cheek by jowl from the chapel, "I suppose Father Philemy will go very deep in the Latin wid ye on Thursday; do ye think ye'll be able to answer him?"

"Is that Latin or Greek, Briney?"

"It's Latin, Phaddhy."

"And what's the translation of that?"

"It signifies the Fables of AEsiopius."

"Bliss my sowl! and Briney, did ye consther that out of yer own head?"

"And, Briney, are ye in Greek at all yet?"

"No, Phaddhy, I'll not be in Greek till I'm in Virgil and Horace, and thin I'll be near finished."

"And how long will it be till that, Briney?"

"Why, Phaddhy, you know I'm only a year and a half at the Latin, and in two years more I'll be in the Greek."

"Do ye think will ye ever be as larned as! Father Philemy, Briney?"

"A block of a priest, Phaddhy."

"Now, Briney, I suppose Father Philemy knows everything."

"Ay, to be sure he does; all the languages' that's spoken through the world, Phaddhy."

"And must all the priests know them, Briney?--how many are they?"

"Seven--sartainly, every priest must know them, or how could they lay the divil, if he'd, spake to them in a tongue they couldn't understand, Phaddhy?"

"Ah, I declare, Briney, I see it now; only for that, poor Father Philip, the heavens be his bed, wouldn't be able to lay ould Warnock, that haunted Squire Sloethorn's stables."

"Is that when the two horses was stole, Phaddhy?"

"The very time, Briney; but God be thanked, Father Philip settled him to the day of judgment."

"And where did he put him, Phaddhy?"

"Why, he wanted to be put anundher the hearth-stone; but Father Philip made him walk away with himself into a thumb-bottle, and tied a stone to it, and then sent him to where he got a cooling, the thief, at the bottom of the lough behind the house."

"Well, I'll tell you what I'm thinking I'll be apt to do, Phaddhy, when I'm a clargy."

"And what is that, Briney?"

"Why, I'll--but, Phaddhy,don't be talking of this, bekase, if it should come to be known, I might get my brains knocked out by some of the heretics."

"Never fear, Briney, there's no danger of that--but what is it?"

"Why, I'll translate all the Protestants into asses, and then we'll get our hands red of them altogether."

"To tell you the thruth, Phaddhy, I would rather he wouldn't examine me this bout, at all at all."

"Ay, but you know we couldn't go agin him, Briney, bekase he promised to get you into the college. Will you speak some Latin, now till I hear you?"

"Bless my heart!--and, Briney, where's that taken from?"

"From Syntax, Phaddhy."

"And who was Syntax--do you know, Briney?"

"He was a Roman, Phaddhy, bekase there's a Latin prayer in the beginning of the book."

"Ay, was he--a priest, I'll warrant him. Well, Briney, do you mind yer Latin, and get on wid yer larnin', and when you grow up you'll have a pair of boots, and a horse of your own to ride on, every bit as good as Father Philemy's, and may be betther nor Father Con's."

From this point, which usually wound up these colloquies between the father and son, the conversation generally diverged into the more spacious fields of science; so that by the time they reached home, Briney had probably given the father a learned dissertation upon the elevation of the clouds above the earth, and told him within how many thousand miles they approached it, at their nearest point of approximation.

"Katty," said Phaddhy, when he got home, "we're to have a station here on Thursday next: 'twas given out from the altar to-day by Father Philemy."

"Oh, wurrah, wurrah!" exclaimed Katty, overwhelmed at the consciousness of her own incapacity to get up a dinner in sufficient style for such guests--"wurrah, wurrah! Phaddhy, ahagur, what on the livin' earth will we do at all at all! Why, we'll never be able to manage it."

"Arrah, why, woman; what do they want but their skinful to eat and dhrink, and I'm sure we're able to allow them that, any way?"

"Arrah, bad manners to me, but you're enough to vex a saint--'their skinful to eat and dhrink!'--you common crathur you, to speak that way of the clargy, as if it was ourselves or the laborers you war spaking of."

"Ay, and aren't we every bit as good as they are, if you go to that?--haven't we sowls to be saved as well as themselves?"

"Indeed, it's very little matther what I get for them, or what I'll do either--sorrow one of myself cares almost: for a man in his senses, that ought to know better, to make use of such low language about the blessed and holy crathurs, that hasn't a stain of sin about them, no more than the child unborn!"

"So you think."

"So I think! aye, and it would be betther for you that you thought so, too; but ye don't know what's before ye yet, Phaddhy--and now take warnin' in time, and mend your life."

"Why what do you see wrong in my life? Am I a drunkard? am I lazy? did ever I neglect my business? was I ever bad to you or to the childher? didn't I always give yez yer fill to ate, and kept yez as well clad as yer neighbors that was richer? Don't I go to my knees, too, every night and morning?"

"That's true enough, but what signifies it all? When did ye cross a priest's foot to go to your duty? Not for the last five years, Phaddhy--not since poor Torly died of the mazles, and that'll be five years, a fortnight before Christmas."

"And what are you the betther of all yer confessions? Did they ever mend yer temper, avourneen? no, indeed, Katty, but you're ten times worse tempered coming back from the priest than before you go to him."

"Oh! Phaddhy! Phaddhy! God look down upon you this day, or any man that's in yer hardened state--I see there's no use in spaking to you, for you'll still be the ould cut."

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