Phil Purcel, The Pig-Driver; The Geography Of An Irish Oath; The Lianhan Shee Part 7

"Well, will you have my new big coat made agin Shraft?" (* Shrovetide)

"Ay, will I, in case you do what I say; but if you don't the sarra st.i.tch of it 'll go to your back this twelvemonth, maybe, if you vex me.

Now!"

"Well, I'll tell you what: my mind's made up--I will take the land; an'

I'll show the neighbors what Pether Connell can do yit."

"Augh! augh! mavoumeen, that you wor! Throth I'll fry a bit o' the bacon for our dinner to-day, on the head o' that, although I didn't intind to touch it till Sunday. Ay, faix, an' a pair o' stockins, too, along wid the coat; an' somethin' else, that you didn't hear of yit."

Ellish, in fact, was a perfect mistress of the science of wheedling; but as it appears instinctive in the s.e.x, this is not to be wondered at.

Peter himself was easy, or rather indolent, till properly excited by the influence of adequate motives; but no sooner were the energies that slumbered in him called into activity, than he displayed a firmness of purpose, and a perseverance in action, that amply repaid his exertions.

The first thing he did, after taking, his little farm, was to prepare for its proper cultivation, and to stock it. His funds were not, however, sufficient for this at the time. A horse was to be bought, but the last guinea they could spare had been already expended, and this purchase was, therefore, out of the question. The usages of the small farmers, however, enabled him to remedy this inconvenience. Peter made a bargain with a neighbor, in which he undertook to repay him by an exchange of labor, for the use of his plough and horses in getting down his crop. He engaged to give him, for a stated period in the slack season, so many days' mowing as would cover the expenses of ploughing and harrowing his land. There was, however, a considerable portion of his holding potato-ground; this Peter himself dug with his spade, breaking it as he went along into fine mould. He then planted the seed--got a hatchet, and selecting the best thorn-bush he could find, cut it down, tied a rope to the trunk, seized the rope, and in this manner harrowed his potato-ground. Thus did he proceed, struggling to overcome difficulties by skill, and subst.i.tuting for the more efficient modes of husbandry, such rude artificial resources as his want of capital compelled him to adopt.

In the meantime, Ellish, seeing Peter acquitting himself in his undertaking with such credit, determined not to be outdone in her own department. She accordingly conceived the design of extending her business, and widening the sphere of her exertions. This intention, however, she kept secret from Peter, until by putting penny to penny, and s.h.i.+lling to s.h.i.+lling, she was able to purchase a load of crockery.

Here was a new source of profit opened exclusively by her own address.

Peter was astonished when he saw the car unloaded, and the crockery piled in proud array by Ellish's own hands.

"I knew," said she, "I'd take a start out o' you. Faix, Pether, you'll see how I'll do, never fear, wid the help o' Heaven! I'll be off to the market in the mornin', plase G.o.d, where I'll sell rings around me * o'

them crocks and pitchers. An' now, Pether, the sarra one o' me would do this, good or bad, only bekase your managin' the farm so cleverly. Tady Gormley's goin' to bring home his meal from the mill, and has promised to lave these in the market for me, an' never fear but I'll get some o'

the neighbors to bring them home, so that there's car-hire saved. Faix, Pether, there's nothin' like givin' the people sweet words, any way; sure they come chape."

* This is a kind of hyperbole for selling a grout quant.i.ty.

"Faith, an' I'll back you for the sweet words agin any woman in the three kingdoms, Ellish, you darlin'. But don't you know the proverb, 'sweet words b.u.t.ther no parsnips.'"

"In throth, the same proverb's a lyin' one, and ever was; but it's not parsnips I'll b.u.t.ther wid 'em, you gommoch."

"Sowl, you b.u.t.thered me wid 'em long enough, you deludher--devil a lie in it; but thin, as you say, sure enough, I was no parsnip--not so soft as that either, you phanix."

"No? Thin I seldom seen your beautiful head without thinkin' of a carrot, an' it's well known they're related--ha, ha, ha!--Behave, Pether--behave, I say--Pether, Pether--ha, ha, ha!--let me alone! Katty Hacket, take him away from me--ha, ha, ha!"

"Will ever you, you shaver wid the tongue that you are? Will ever you, I say? Will ever you make delusion to my head again--eh?"

"Oh, never, never--but let me go, an' me go full o' tickles! Oh, Pether, avourneen, don't, you'll hurt me, an' the way I'm in--quit, avillis.h.!.+"

"Bedad, if you don't let my head alone, I'll--will ever you?"

"Never, never. There now--ha, ha, ha!--oh, but I'm as wake as wather wid what I laughed. Well now, Pether, didn't I manage bravely--didn't I?"

"Wait till we see the profits first, Ellish--crockery's very tindher goods."

"Ay!--just wait, an'I'll engage I'll turn the penny. The family's risin'

wid us."--

"Very thrue," replied Peter, giving a sly wink at the wife--"no doubt of it."

"--Kisin' wid us--I tell you to have sinse, Pether; an' it's our duty to have something for the crathurs when they grow up."

"Well, that's a thruth--sure I'm not sayin' against it."

"I know that; but what I say is, if we hould an, we may make money.

Everything, for so far, has thruv wid us, G.o.d be praised for it. There's another thing in my mind, that I'll be tellin' you some o' these days."

"I believe, Ellish, you dhrame about makin' money."

"Well, an' I might do worse; when I'm dhramin' about it, I'm doin' no sin to any one. But, listen, you must keep the house to-morrow while I'm at the market. Won't you, Pether?"

"An' who's to open the dhrain in the bottom below?"

"That can be done the day afther. Won't you, abouchal?"

"Ellish, you're a deludher, I tell you. Sweet words;--sowl, you'd smooth a furze bush wid sweet words. How-an-ever, I will keep the house to-morrow, till we see the great things you'll do wid your crockery."

Ellish's success was, to say the least of it, quite equal to, her expectations. She was certainly an excellent wife, full of acuteness, industry, and enterprise. Had Peter been married to a woman of a disposition resembling his own, it is probable that he would have sunk into indolence, filth, and poverty, these miseries might have soured their tempers, and driven them into all the low excesses and crimes attendant upon pauperism. Ellish, however, had sufficient spirit to act upon Peter's natural indolence, so as to excite it to the proper pitch.

Her mode of operation was judiciously suited to his temper. Playfulness and kindness were the instruments by which she managed him. She knew that violence, or the a.s.sumption of authority, would cause a man who, like him, was stern when provoked, to react, and meet her with an a.s.sertion of his rights and authority not to be trifled with. This she consequently avoided, not entirely from any train of reasoning on the subject; but from that intuitive penetration which taught her to know that the plan she had resorted to was best calculated to make him subservient to her own purposes, without causing him to feel that he was governed.

Indeed, every day brought out her natural cleverness more clearly. Her intercourse with the world afforded her that facility of understanding the tempers and dispositions of others, which can never be acquired when it has not been bestowed as a natural gift. In her hands it was a valuable one. By degrees her house improved in its appearance, both inside and outside. From crockery she proceeded to herrings, then to salt, in each of which she dealt with surprising success. There was, too, such an air of bustle, activity, and good-humor about her that people loved to deal with her. Her appearance was striking, if not grotesque. She was tall and strong, walked rapidly, and when engaged in fair or market disposing of her coa.r.s.e merchandise, was dressed in a short red petticoat, blue stockings, strong brogues, wore a blue cloak, with the hood turned up, over her head, on the top of which was a man's hat, fastened by a, ribbon under her chin. As she thus stirred about, with a kind word and a joke for every one, her healthy cheek in full bloom, and her blue-gray eye beaming with an expression of fun and good-nature, it would be difficult to conceive a character more adapted for intercourse with, a laughter-loving people. In fact, she soon became a favorite, and this not the less that she was as ready to meet her rivals in business with a blow as with a joke. Peter witnessed her success with unfeigned pleasure; and although every feasible speculation was proposed by her, yet he never felt that he was a mere nonent.i.ty when compared to his wife. 'Tis true, he was perfectly capable of executing her agricultural plans when she proposed them, but his own capacity for making a lucky hit was very limited. Of the two, she was certainly the better farmer; and scarcely an improvement took place in his little holding which might not be traced to Ellish.

In the course of a couple of years she bought him a horse, and Peter was enabled, to join with a neighbor, who had another. Each had a plough and tackle, so that here was a little team made up, the half of which belonged to Peter. By this means they ploughed week about, until their crops were got down. Peter finding his farm doing well, began to feel a kind of rivals.h.i.+p with his wife--that is to say, she first suggested the principle, and afterwards contrived to make him imagine that it was originally his own.

"The sarra one o' you, Pettier," she exclaimed to him one day, "but's batin' me out an' out. Why, you're the very d.i.c.kins at the farmin', so you are. Faix, I suppose, if you go an this way much longer, that you'll be thinkin' of another farm, in regard that we have some guineas together. Pettier, did you ever think of it, abouchal?"

"To be sure, I did, you beauty; an' amn't I in fifty notions to take Harry Neal's land, that jist lies alongside of our own."

"Faix, an' you're right, maybe; but if it's strivin' again me you are, you may give it over: I tell you, I'll have more money made afore this time twelvemonth than you will."

"Arrah, is it jokin' you are? More money? Would you advise me to take Harry's land? Tell me that first, you phanix, an' thin I'm your man!"

"Faix, take your own coorse, avourneen. If you get a lase of it at a fair rint, I'll buy another horse, any how. Isn't that doin' the thing dacent'?"

"More power to you, Ellis.h.!.+ I'll hold you a crown, I pay you the price o' the horse afore this time twelvemonth."

"Done! The sarra be off me but done!--an' here's Barny Dillon an' Katty Hacket to bear witness."

"Sure enough we will," said Barny, the servant.

"I'll back the misthress any money," replied the maid.

"Two to one on the masther," said the man. "Whoo! our side o' the house for ever! Come, Pether, hould up your head, there's money bid for you!"

"Ellish, I'll fight for you ankle deep," said Katty--"depind your life an me."

"In the name o' goodness, thin, it's a bargain," said Ellish; "an' at the end o' the year, if we're spared, we'll see what we'll see. We'll have among ourselves a little sup o' tay, plase goodness, an' we'll be comfortable. Now, Barny, go an' draw home thim phaties from the pits while the day's fine; and Katty, a colleen, bring in some wather, till we get the pig killed and scalded--it'll hardly have time to be good bacon for the big markets at Christmas. I don't wish," she continued, "to keep it back from them that we have a thrifle o' money. One always does betther when it's known that they're not strugglin'. There's Nelly c.u.mmins, an' her customers is lavin' her, an' dalin' wid me, bekase she's goin' down in business. Ay an', Pether, ahagur, it's the way o'

the world."

"Well but, Ellish, don't you be givin' Nelly c.u.mmins the harsh word, or lanin' too heavily upon her, the crathur, merely in regard that she is goin' down. Do you hear, acolleen?"

"Indeed I don't do it, Pether; but you know she has a tongue like a razor at times, and whin it gets loose she'd provoke St. Pether himself.