The Daltons Volume II Part 34

"But Fogla.s.s was always so excl-exclusive, and held himself so high."

"The higher the better," rejoined Dalton, "even if it was out of one's reach altogether; for a more tiresome ould crayture I never forgathered with; and such a bag of stories he had, without a bit of drollery or fun in one of them. You may think that kind of fellow good company in England; but, in my poor country, a red herring and a pint of beer would get you one he could n't howld a candle to. See now, Mister--"

"P-P-Purvis," screamed the other.

"Mister Purvis,--if that's the name,--see, now, 't is n't boasting I am, for the condition we 're in would n't let any man boast,--but it's what I 'm saying, the English is a mighty stupid people. They have their London jokes, and, like London porter, mighty heavy they are, and bitter, besides; and they have two or three play-actors that makes them die laughing at the same comicalities every day of the year. They get used to them as they do the smoke and the noise and the Thames water; and nothing would persuade them that, because they 're rich, they 're not agreeable and social and witty. And may I never leave this, but you 'd find cuter notions of life, droller stories, and more fun, under a dry arch of the Aqueduct of Stoney Batter than if you had the run of Westminster Hall. Look at the shouts of laughter in the Law Coorts; look at the loud laughter in the House of Commons! Oh dear! oh dear! it makes me quite melancholy just to think of it I won't talk of the Parliament, because it's gone; but take an Irish Coort in Dublin or on the a.s.sizes, at any trial,--murder, if you like,----and see the fun that goes on: the judge quizzing the jury, and the counsel quizzing the judge, and the prisoner quizzing all three. There was poor ould Nor-bury,--rest his soul!--I remember well how he could n't put on the black cap for laughing."

"And is ju-justice better administered for all that?" cried Purvis.

"To be sure it is. Isn't the laws made to expose villany, and not let people be imposed upon? Sure it's not to hang Paddy Blake you want, but to keep others from following his example. And many 's the time in Ireland when, what between the blunderin' of the Crown lawyers, the flaws of the indictment, the conscientious scruples of the jury,--you know what that means,--and the hurry of the judge to be away to Harrogate or Tunbridge, a villain gets off. But, instead of going out with an elegant bran-new character, a bit of a joke--a droll word spoken during the trial--sticks to him all his life after, till it would be just as well for him to be hanged at once as be laughed at, from Pill-Lane to the Lakes of Killarney. Don't I remember well when one of the Regans--Tim, I think it was--was tried for murder at Tralee; there was a something or other they could n't convict upon. 'T was his grandfather's age was put down wrong, or the color of his stepmother's hair, or the nails in his shoes wasn't described right,----whatever it was, it was a flaw, as they called it; and a flaw in a brief, like one in a boiler, leaves everybody in hot water. "Not Guilty," says the jury, 'for we can't agree.'

"''Tis a droll verdict,' says O'Grady, for he was the judge. 'What d' ye mean?'

"'Most of us is for hanging, my Lord; but more of us would let him off.'

"'What will you do, Mr. Attorney?' says the judge. 'Have you any other evidence to bring forward?' And the Attorney-General stooped down and began whispering with the bench. 'Very well,' says the judge, at last, 'we 'll discharge him by proclamation.'

"'Wait a minute, my Lord,' says ould Blethers, who got five guineas for the defence, and had n't yet opened his mouth. 'Before my respected but injured client leaves that dock, I call to your Lords.h.i.+p, in the name and on behalf of British justice,--I appeal to you, by the eternal principles of our glorious Const.i.tution, that he may go forth into the world with a reputation unstained and a character unblemished.'

"'Not so fast, Mister Blethers,' says old Grady,----'not so fast I 'm going over Thieve-na-muck Mountain tonight, and, with the blessing of G.o.d, I 'll keep your unblemished friend where he is till morning.' Now you see the meaning of what I was telling you. 'T is like tying a kettle to a dog's tail."

It is not quite clear to us whether Purvis comprehended the story or appreciated the ill.u.s.tration; but he smiled, and smirked, and looked satisfied, for Peter's wine was admirable, and iced to perfection.

Indeed, the worthy Scroope, like his sister, was already calculating how to "improve the occasion," and further cultivate the esteem of one whose hospitable dispositions were so excellent. It was just at this moment that Martha glided behind Purvis's chair, and whispered a word in his ear. Whatever the announcement, it required some repet.i.tion before it became quite palpable to his faculties, and it was only after about five minutes that his mind seemed to take in all the bearings of the case.

"Oh, I ha-have it!" cried he. "That's it, eh?" And he winked with a degree of cunning that showed the most timely appreciation of the news.

"Would n't the young lady sit down and take something?" said Dalton, offering a seat "A gla.s.s of sweet wine? They 've elegant Tokay here."

"Thanks, thanks," said Scroope, apologizing for the bashful Martha; "but she's in a bit of a quandary just now. My sister wishes to return home, and we cannot remember the name of the hotel."

Dalton took a hearty fit of laughing at the absurdity of the dilemma.

"'T is well," said he, "You were n't Irish. By my conscience! they'd call that a bull;" and he shook his sides with merriment. "How did you get here?"

"We walked," said Martha.

"And which way did you come?"

"Can you remember, Scroope?"

"Yes, I can re-re-member that we crossed a little Plate, with a fountain, and came oyer a wooden bridge, and then down an alley of li-li-linden-trees."

"To be sure ye did," broke in Dalton; "and the devil a walk of five minutes ye could take in any direction here without seeing a fountain, a wooden bridge, and a green lane. 'T is the same whichever way you turn, whether you were going to church or the gambling-house. Would you know the name, if you hear it? Was it the Schwan?" Purvis shook his head.

"Nor the Black Eagle?--nor the Cour de Londres?--nor the Russie?--nor the Zaringer? Nor, in fact, any of the cognate hotels of Baden. Was n't there a great hall when you entered, with orange-trees all round it, and little couriers, in goold-lace jackets, smoking and drinking beer?"

Scroope thought he had seen something of that sort "Of course ye did,"

said Dalton, with another burst of laughter. "'Tis the same in every hotel of the town. There 's a clock that never goes, too, and a weather-gla.s.s always at 'set fair,' and pictures round the walls of all the wonderful inns in Germany and Switzerland, with coaches-and-four driving in at full gallop, and ladies on the balconies, and saddle-horses waiting, and every diversion in life going on, while, maybe, all the time, the place is dead as Darmstadt."

Scroope recognized the description perfectly, but could give no clew to its whereabouts.

"Maybe 't is Kaufmayer's. Was it painted yellow outside?"

Scroope thought not. "It hadn't a garden in front?" He couldn't say positively; but, if so, it was a small garden. "He did n't remark two dogs in stone beside the door?" No, he had not seen them.

"Then, by the powers!" exclaimed Peter, "I give it up. Nelly's the only body can make anything out of it."

"And who's Ne-Ne-Nelly?" screamed Purvis.

"My daughter, Miss Dalton," said Peter, haughtily, And as if rebuking the liberty of the question.

Scroope hastened to apologize, and suddenly remembered how frequently he had heard of the young lady from her sister, and how eager Mrs. Ricketts would be to make her Acquaintance.

"There's nothing easier than that same," said Dalton. "Just come with me to my little place, and take tea with us. Nelly will be right glad to see them that was kind to her sister, and then we'll try if we can't find out your inn."

"Can we do this, Martha?" cried Scroope, in seeming Agitation.

"I 'll speak to my sister," mildly replied she.

"Do, then, Miss," said Dalton. "Say 'tis just alone, and in the family way, and that we have n't more than ten minutes' walk from this; or, we 'll get a coach if she likes."

The very thought of practising hospitality was ecstasy to honest Peter, who, while Martha retired to consult her sister, ordered in a relay of bottles to beguile the time.

"I like that little ould man," said he, confidingly, to Purvis, while he bent a kindly glance on the General. "He doesn't say much, and, maybe, he hears less; but he takes his gla.s.s pleasantly, and he lays it down when it's empty, with a little sigh. I never knew a bad fellow had that habit."

Scroope hinted that the General was one of the bright stars of the British army.

"I did n't care that he took Tippoo Saib, or Bergen-op-Zoom, and that's a big word,--for a wickeder pair of devils, by all accounts, never lived,--if he's all right here." And Peter touched the left region of his brawny chest "If he's good and generous, kind to the poor, and steady to his friends, I'd be prouder to know him than if he was 'Bony'

or Brian Maguire!"

Scroope a.s.sured him that the General's greatness took nothing from the kindly qualities of his heart; and, indeed, the mild looks of the old man well corroborated the eulogy; and he and Dalton nodded and drank to each other with all the signs of a most amicable understanding.

Martha was not long absent. She returned with all manner of acknowledgments on the part of her sister; but grat.i.tude was so counterbalanced by delicacy, fears of intrusion were so coupled with enthusiastic delight, that poor Dalton was quite unable to unravel the web, and satisfy himself what were her real intentions.

"Is it that she won't come?" said he, in a state of bewilderment.

"Oh, no," said Martha; "she did not mean that."

"Well, then, she is coming," said he, more contentedly.

"She only fears the inconvenience,----the trouble she may give Miss Dalton,--not to speak of the abruptness of such a visit."

"She does n't know Nelly,--tell her that. She doesn't know Nelly Dalton," said Peter. "'T is the same girl does n't care for trouble or inconvenience; just talk to her about Kate and you 'll pay her well for all she could do for you."

"My sister thinks a carriage would be better, she is so very weak,"

mildly observed Martha.

"Well, we 'll get one in a jiffy. Fritz, my man, send down to the Platz for a shandradan,--a wagon, I mean. 'T is a droll name for a coach." And he laughed heartily at the conceit "And now, Mr. Purvis, let us finish them before we go. The Gen'ral is doing his part like a man. It's wonderful the nourishment would n't put flesh on him; you could shave him with his s.h.i.+n bone!" and Dalton stared at the frail figure before him with all the astonishment a great natural curiosity would create.

"What a kind creature! what a really Irish heart!" sighed Mrs. Ricketts, as she slowly sailed into the room, and sank into a chair beside Dalton.