PART II.
Tom.And how did you get safe out of Scotland at last?
Teag.By the law dear honey, when I came to Port Patrick, and saw my own kingdom, I thought I was safe at home, but I was clean dead and almost drowned before I could get riding over the water: for I, with nine passengers more, leapt in a little young boat, having but four men dwelling in a little house, in the one end of it, which was all thacked with deals: and after they had pulled up her tether-stick, and laid her long halter over her mane, they pulled up a long big sheet like three pair of blankets to the riggen of the house, and the wind blew in that, which made her gallop up one hill and down another, till I thought she would have run to the world’s end if some part of the world had not catch’t her by the foot.
Tom.I fancy, Pady, you was by this time very sick?
Teag.Sick, ay sick beyond all sickness, clean dead as a door-nail; for as I had lost the key of my backside, I bock’d up the very bottom of my belly, and I thought that liver and lungs, and all that I had should have gone together; then I called to the fellow that held by her tail behind, to pull down his sheet and hold her head, till I got leasure to die, and then say my prayers.
Tom.Well then, Pady, and got you safe ashore at last?
Teag.Ay, we came ashore very fast; but, by shaint Patrick, I shall never venture my dear shoul and body in such a young boat again, while the wind blows out of Scots Galloway.[167]
Tom.Well, Pady, and where did you go when you came to Ireland again?
Teag.Arra dear honey, and where did I go, but to my own dear cousin, who was now become very rich by the death of the old buck his father: who died but a few weeks before I went over, and the parish had to bury him out of pity, it did not cost him a farthing.
Tom.And what entertainment or good usage did you get there, Pady?
Teag.O my dear shoy, I was kindly used as another gentleman, for I told him I had made something of it, by my travels, as well as himself, but I had got no money, therefore I had to work for my victuals while I staid with him.
Tom.Ho, poor Pady, I suppose you would not stay long there.
Teag.Arra, dear honey, I could have staid there long enough, but when a man is poor his friends think little of him: I told him I was going to see my brother Harry: Harry, said he, is dead: dead said I, and who killed him? Why said he, death: Allelieu, dear honey, and where did he kill him? said I. In his bed, said he; O what for a cowardly action was that, said I, to kill a man in his bed: and what is this fellow death? said I. What is he, He is one that kills more than the head butcher in all Cork does. Arra, dear honey, said I, if he had been upon Newry mountains with his brogues on, and his broad sword by his side, all the deaths in Ireland had not have killed him: O that impudent fellow death, if he had let him alone till he died for want of butter milk and potatoes, I am sure he had lived all the days of his life.
Tom.In all your travels when abroad, did you never see any of your countrymen, to inform you of what happened at home concerning your relations?
Teag.Arra dear shoy, I saw none but Tom Jack one day in the street; but when I came to him, it was not him, but one just like him.
Tom.On what account did you go a travelling?
Teag.Why, a decruiting sergeant listed me to be a captain, and after all advanced me no higher than a soldier itself, butonly he called me his dear countryman recruit: for I did not know what the regiment was when I saw them; I thought they were all gentlemen’s sons and collegeoners, when I saw a box like a bible upon their bellies: until I saw K for King George upon it, and R for God bless him: ho, ho, said I, I shan’t be long here.
Tom.O then Pady, you deserted from them?
Teag.Ah that’s what I did, and run to the mountains like a wild buck, and ever since when I see any soldiers I close my eyes, lest they should look and know me.
Tom.And what exploits did you do when you were a soldier?
Teag.Arra, dear honey, I killed a man.
Tom.And how did you that?
Teag.Arra, dear honey, when he dropt his sword, I drew mine, and advanced boldly to him, and then cutted off his foot.
Tom.O then what a big fool was you; for you ought first to have cut off his head.
Teag.Arra, dear shoy, his head was cutted off before I engaged him, else I had not done it.
Tom.O then Pady, you acted like a fool; but you are not such a big fool as many take you to be, you might pass for a philosopher.
Teag.A fulusifair, my father was a fulusifair, besides he was a man under great authority by law, condemning the just and clearing the guilty: do you know how they call the horse’s mother?
Tom.Why they call her a mare.
Teag.A mare, ay very well minded, by shaint Patrick, my father was a mare in Cork.
Tom.And what riches was left you by the death of your mother?
Teag.A bad luck to her old barren belly, for she lived in great plenty, and died in great poverty: devoured up all or she died, but two hens and a pockful of potatoes, a poor estate for an Irish gentleman, in faith.
Tom.And what did you make of your hens and potatoes, did you sow them?
Teag.Arra, dear shoy, I sowed them in my belly, and sold the hens to a cadger.
Tom.And what business did your mother follow after?
Teag.Greatly in the merchant way.
Tom.And what sort of goods did she deal in?
Teag.Dear honey, she went through the country and sold small fishes, onions and apples: bought hens and eggs, and then hatched them herself. I remember one long-necked cock she had of an oversea brood, that stood on the midden and picked all the stars out of the north-west so they were never so thick there since.
Tom.Now Pady, that’s a bull surpasses all: but is there none of that cock’s offspring alive in Ireland now?
Teag.Arra, dear shoy, I don’t think that there are, but it is a pity but they had, for they would fly with people above the sea, which would put the use of ships out of fashion, and then there would be nobody drowned at sea at all.
Tom.Very well Pady: but in all your travels did you ever get a wife?
Teag.Ay that’s what I did, and wicked wife too.
Tom.And what is become of her now?
Teag.Dear shoy, I can’t tell whether she is gone to Purgatory, or the parish of Pig-trantrum: for she told me she should certainly die the first opportunity she could get, as this present evil world was not worth the waiting on, so she would go and see what good things is in the world to come; and so when that old rover called the Fever, came raging like a madman over the whole kingdom, knocking the people on the head with deadly blows, she went away and died out of spite, leaving me with nothing but two motherless children.
Tom.O, but Pady, you ought to have gone to a doctor, and got some pills and physic for her.
Teag.By shaint Patrick I had as good a pill of my own as any doctor in the kingdom could give her, and as for sneeshing, she could never use snuff nor tobacco in her life.
Tom.O you fool that is not what I mean; you ought tohave brought the doctor to feel her pulse, and let blood of her if he thought it needful.
Teag.Yes, that’s what I did; for I ran to the doctor whenever she died, and sought something for a dead or dying woman; the old foolish devil was at his dinner, and began to ask me some dirty questions, which I answered distinctly.
Tom.And what did he ask, Pady?
Teag.Why, he asked me, How did my wife go to stool? to which I answered, the same way that other women go to a chair: no, said he, that’s not what I mean, how does she purge? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said I, all the fire in Purgatory wont purge her clean; for she has both a cold and stinking breath. Sir, said he, that is not what I ask you, whether does she shit thick or thin? Arra, Mr. Doctor, said I, it is sometimes so thick and hard that you may take it in your hand, and eat it like a piece of cheese or pudding, and at other times you may drink it, or sup it with a spoon. At this he flew in a most terrible rage, and kicked me down stairs, and would give me nothing to her, but called me a dirty scoundrel for speaking of shit before ladies.
Tom.And was you sorry when your wife died?
Teag.Arra, dear shoy, if any body had beat me, I was fit to cry myself.
Tom.And in what good order did you bury your wife when she died?
Teag.O my dear shoy she was buried in all manner of pomp, pride, and splendour; a fine coffin with cords in it, and within the coffin along with herself, she got a pair of new brogues, a penny candle, a good hard-headed old hammer, with an Irish sixpenny piece, to pay her passage at the gate and what more could she look for.[168]
Tom.I really think you gave her enough along with her, but you ought to have cried for her, if it was no more but to be in the fashion.
Teag.And why should I cry without sorrow? when we hired two criers to cry all the way before her to keep in the fashion.
Tom.And what do they cry before a dead woman?
Teag.Why they cry the common cry, or funeral lament that is used in our Irish country.
Tom.And what manner of cry is that, Pady?
Teag.Dear Tom, if you don’t know, I’ll tell you, when any dies, there is a number of criers goes before, saying, Luff, fuff, fou, allelieu, dear honey, what aileth thee to die! it was not for want of good buttermilk and potatoes.