Part 13

"Owld Moll," as she was known, was a power in the parish, and her help was sought in many emergencies. Did a cow go dry, Moll knew the reason and might possibly remove the spell; if a baby fell ill, Moll had an explanation of its ailment, and could tell at a glance whether the little one was or was not affected by the evil eye of a secret enemy. If a pig was stolen, she was shrewd in her conjectures as to the direction its wrathful owner must take in the search. But her forte lay in bringing about love-matches. Many were the charms at her command for this purpose, and equally numerous the successes with which she was accredited. Some particulars of her doings in this direction were furnished by Jerry Magwire, a jolly car-man of Galway, who had himself been benefited by her services.

"Sure I was married meself be her manes," stated Jerry, "an' this is the way it was. Forty-nine years ago come next Mickelmas, I was a good-lookin' young felly, wid a nate cabin on the road from Ballinasloe to Ballinamore, havin' a fine car an' a mare an' her colt, that was as good as two horses whin the colt grew up. I was afther payin' coort to Dora O'Callighan, that was the dawther av Misther O'Callighan that lived in the County Galway, an', be the same token, was a fine man. In thim times I used be comin' over here twict or three times a year wid a bagman, commercial thraveller, you'd call him, an' I heard say av Owld Moll, an' she wasn't owld thin, an' the next time I come, I wint to her an' got an inchantmint. Faix, some av it is gone from me, but I mind that I was to change me garthers, an' tie on me thumb a bit o' bark she gev me, an' go to the churchyard on Halloween, an' take the first chilla-ca-pooka (snail) I found on a tombshtone, an' begob, it was that same job that was like to be the death o' me, it bein' dark an' I bendin' to look clost, a hare jumped in me face from undher the shtone. 'Jagers,' says I, an' me fallin' on me back on the airth an' the life lavin' me. 'Presince o' God be about me,' says I, for I knewn the inchantmint wasn't right, no more I oughtn't to be at it, but the hare was skairt like meself an' run, an' I found the shnail an' run too wid the shweat pourin' aff me face in shtrames.

"So I put the shnail in a plate that I covered wid another, an' av the Sunday, I opened it fur to see phat letters it writ, an' bad luck to the wan o' thim cud I rade at all, fur in thim days I cudn't tell A from any other letther. I tuk the plate to Misther O'Callighan, fur he was a fine scholar an' cud rade both books an' writin', an' axed him phat the letters was.

"'A-a-ah, ye ignerant gommoch,' says he to me, 'yer head's as empty as a drum. Sure here's no writin' at all, only marks that the shnail's afther makin' an' it crawlin' on the plate.'

"So I axplained the inchantmint to him, an' he looked a little closter, an' thin jumped wid shurprise.

"'Oh,' says he. 'Is that thrue?' says he. 'Ye must axqueeze me, Misther Magwire. Sure the shnails does n't write a good hand, an' I'm an owld man an' me eyes dim, but I see it betther now. Faith, the first letter's a D,' says he, an' thin he shtudied awhile. 'An' the next is a O, an' thin there's a C,' says he, 'only the D an' the C is bigger than the O, an' that's all the letters there is,' says he.

"'An' phat does thim letters shpell?' says I, bekase I did n't know.

"'Ah, bad scran to 'em,' says he; 'there's thim cows in me field agin,' says he. 'Ax Dora, here she comes,' an' away he wint as she come in, an' I axed her phat D. O. C. shpelt; an' she towld me her name, an' I go bail she was surprised to find the shnail had writ thim letters on the plate, so we marr'd the next Sunday.

"But Owld Moll is a knowledgeable woman an' has a power av shpells an' charms. There's Tim Gallagher, him as dhrives the public car out o' Galway, he's bought his luck av her be the month, fur nigh on twinty year, barrin' wan month, that he forgot, an' that time he shpilt his load in the ditch an' kilt a horse, bein' too dhrunk to dhrive.

"Whin me dawther Dora, that was named afther her mother, was ill afther she'd been to the dance, whin O'Hoolighan's Peggy was married to Paddy Noonan (she danced too hard in the cabin an' come home in the rain), me owld woman wint to Moll an' found that Dora had been cast wid an avil eye. So she gev her a tay to dhrink an' a charm to wear agin it, an' afther she'd dhrunk the tay an' put on the charm the faver lift her, an' she was well entirely.

AN' PHAT DOES THIM LETTERS SHPELL?

"Sure Moll towld me wan magpie manes sorrow, two manes luck, three manes a weddin', an' four manes death; an' didn't I see four o' thim the day o' the fair in Ennis whin O'Dougherty was laid out? An' whin O'Riley cut his arrum wid a bill-hook, an' the blood was runnin', didn't she tie a shtring on the arrum an' dip a raven's feather into the blood av a black cat's tail, an' shtop the bleedin'? An' didn't she bid me take care o' meself the day I met a red-headed woman afore dinner, an' it wasn't six months till I met the woman in the mornin', it a-rainin' an' ivery dhrop the full o' yer hat, an' me top-coat at home, an' that same night was I tuk wid the roomytics an' didn't shtir a toe fur a fortnight. Faix, she's an owld wan is Moll; phat she can't do isn't worth thryin'. If she goes fur to make a match, all the fathers in Ireland cudn't purvint it, an' it's no use o' their settin' theirselves agin her, fur her head's as long as a summer day an' as hard as a shillalee.

"Did iver ye hear how she got a husband for owld Miss Rooney, the same that married Misther Dooley that kapes the Aygle Inn in Lisdoon Varna, an' tuk him clane away from the Widdy Mulligan an' two more widdys that were comin' down upon him like kites on a young rabbit?

"Well, it's a mighty improvin' shtory, fur it shows that widdys can be baten whin they're afther a husband, that some doesn't belave, but they do say it takes a witch, the divil, an' an owld maid to do it, an' some think that all o' thim isn't aiquel to a widdy, aven if there's three o' thim an' but wan av her.

"The razon av it is this. Widdy wimmin are like lobsthers, whin they wanst ketch holt, begob, they've no consate av lettin' go at all, but will shtick to ye tighter than a toe-nail, till ye've aither to marry thim or murther thim, that's the wan thing in the end; fur if ye marry thim ye're talked to death, an' if ye murther thim ye 're only dacintly hanged out o' the front dure o' the jail. Whin they're afther a husband, they're as busy as owld Nick, an' as much in airnest as a dog in purshoot av a flea. More-be-token, they're always lookin' fur the proper man, an' if they see wan that they think will shuit, bedad, they go afther him as strait as an arrer, an' if he doesn't take the alarum an' run like a shape-thief, the widdy 'ull have him afore the althar an' married fast an' tight while he'd be sayin' a Craydo.

"They know so much be wan axpayrience av marryin', that, barrin' it's a widdy man that's in it, an' he knows as much as thimselves, they'll do for him at wanst, bekase it's well undhershtood that a bach'ler, aither young or owld, has as much show av outshtrappin' a widdy as a mouse agin a weasel.

"Now, this Misther Dooley was an owld bach'ler, nigh on five an' thirty, an' about fifteen years ago, come next Advint, he come from Cork wid a bit o' money, an' tuk the farm beyant Misther McCoole's on the lift as ye come out o' Galway. He wasn't a bad lookin' felly, an' liked the ladies, an' the first time he was in chapel afther takin' the farm, aitch widdy an' owld maid set the two eyes av her on him, an' the Widdy Mulligan says to herself, says she, 'Faix, that's just the man to take the place av me dear Dinnis,' fur, ye see, the widdys always do spake that-a-way av their husbands, a-givin' thim the good word afther they're dead, so as to make up fur the tongue lashin's they give 'em whin they're alive. It's quare, so it is, phat widdys are like. Whin ye see a widdy at the wake schraimin' fit to shplit yer head wid the noise, an' flingin' herself acrass the grave at the berryin' like it was a bag o' male she was, an' thin spakin' all the time av 'me poor dear hushband,' I go bail they lived together as paceful as a barrel full o' cats an' dogs; no more is it sorrow that's in it, but raimorse that's tarin' at her, an' the shquailin' an' kickin' is beways av a pinnance fur the gostherin' she done him whin he was livin', fur the more there's in a jug, the less noise it makes runnin' out, an' whin ye've a heavy load to carry, ye nade all yer breath, an' so have none to waste tellin' how it's breakin' yer back.

"So it was wid the Widdy Mulligan, that kept the Shamrock Inn, for her Dinnis was a little ottomy av a gossoon, an' her the full av a dure, an' the arrum on her like a smith an' the fut like a leg o' mutton. Och, she was big enough thin, but she's a horse entirely now, wid the walk av a duck, an' the cheeks av her shakin' like a bowl av shtirabout whin she goes. Her poor Dinnis dar n't say his sowl belonged to him, but was conthrolled be her, an' they do say his last words were, 'I'll have pace,' that was phat he niver had afther he married her, fur she was wan that 'ud be shmilin' an' shmilin' an' the tongue av her like a razer. She'd a good bit o' property in the inn, siven beds in the house fur thravellers, an' six childher, the oldest nigh onto twelve, an' from him on down in reg'lar steps like thim in front o' the coort-house.

"Now, a bit up the shtrate from the Shamrock there was a little shop kept be Missis O'Donnell, the widdy av Tim O'Donnell, that died o' bein' mortified in his legs that broke be his fallin' aff his horse wan night whin he was comin' back from Athlone, where he'd been to a fair. Missis O'Donnell was a wapin' widdy, that's got eyes like a hydrant, where ye can turn on the wather whin ye plaze. Begorra, thim's the widdys that 'ull do fur anny man, fur no more can ye tell phat's in their minds be lookin' at their faces than phat kind av close they've got on be lookin' at their shadders, an' whin they corner a man that's tinder-hearted, an' give a shy look at him up out o' their eyes, an' thin look down an' sind two or three dhrops o' wather from undher their eye-lashers, the only salvation fur him is to get up an' run like it was a bag o' gunpowdher she was. So Missis O'Donnell, whin she seen Misther Dooley, tuk the same notion into her head that the Widdy Mulligan did, fur she'd two childher, a boy an' a gurrul, that were growin' up, an' the shop wasn't payin' well.

"There was another widdy in it, the Widdy McMurthry, that aftherwards married a sargeant av the polis, an' lives in Limerick. She was wan o' thim frishky widdys that shtruts an' wears fine close an' puts on more airs than a paycock. She was a fine-lookin' woman thim times, an' had money in plinty that she got be marryin' McMurthry, that was owld enough to be a father to her an' died o' dhrinkin' too much whishkey at first, an' thin too much sulphur-wather at Lisdoon Varna to set him right agin. She was always ready wid an answer to ye, fur it was quick witted she was, wid slathers o' talk that didn't mane annything, an' a giggle that she didn't nade to hunt fur whin she wanted it to make a show wid. An' she'd a dawther that was a fine child, about siventeen, a good dale like her mother.

"Now, Misther Dooley had a kind heart in his body fur wimmin in gineral, an' as he liked a bit o' chaff wid thim on all occashuns, he wasn't long in gettin' acquainted wid all the wimmin o' the parish, an' was well liked be thim, an', be the same token, wasn't be the men, fur men, be nacher, doesn't like a woman's man anny more than wimmin like a men's woman. But, afther a bit, he begun to centher himself on the three widdys, an' sorra the day' ud go by whin he come to town but phat he'd give wan or another o' thim a pace av his comp'ny that was very plazin' to thim. Bedad, he done that same very well, for he made a round av it for to kape thim in suspince. He'd set in the ale room o' the Shamrock an hour in the afthernoon an' chat wid the Widdy Mulligan as she was sarvin' the dhrink, an' shtop in the Widdy O'Donnell's shop as he was goin' by, to get a thrifle or a bit av shwates an' give to her childher beways av a complimint, an' thin go to Missis McMurthry's to tay, an' so got on well wid thim all. An' it's me belafe he'd be doin' that same to this blessed day only that the widdys begun to be pressin' as not likin' fur to wait anny longer. Fur, mind ye, a widdy's not like a young wan that'll wait fur ye to spake, an' if ye don't do it, 'ull go on foriver, or till she gets tired av waitin' an' takes some wan else that does spake, widout sayin' a word to ye at all; but the widdy 'ull be hintin' an' hintin', an' her hints 'ull be as shtrong as a donkey's kick, so that the head o' ye has to be harder than a pavin'-shtone if ye don't undhershtand, an' ye've got to have more impidince than a monkey if ye don't spake up an' say something about marryin'.

"Well, as I was afther sayin', the widdys begun to be pressin' him clost: the Widdy Mulligan tellin' him how good her business was an' phat a savin' there'd be if a farm an' a public were put together; the Widdy O'Donnell a-lookin' at him out av her tears an' sighin' an' tellin' him how lonely he must be out on a farm an' nobody but a man wid him in the house, fur she was lonesome in town, an' it wasn't natheral at all, so it wasn't, fur aither man or woman to be alone; an' the Widdy McMurthry a palatherin' to him that if he'd a fine, good-lookin' woman that loved him, he'd be a betther man an' a changed man entirely. So they wint on, the widdys a-comin' at him, an' he thryin' to kape wid thim all, as he might have knewn he couldn't do (barrin' he married the three o' thim like a Turk), until aitch wan got to undhershtand, be phat he said to her, that he was goin' to marry her, an' the minnit they got this in their heads, aitch begged him that he'd shtay away from the other two, fur aitch knewn he wint to see thim all. By jayminy, it bothered him thin, fur he liked to talk to thim all aiquelly, an' didn't want to confine his agrayble comp'ny to anny wan o' thim. So he got out av it thish-a-way. He promised the Widdy McMurthry that he'd not go to the Shamrock more than wanst in the week, nor into the Widdy O'Donnell's barrin' he naded salt fur his cow; an' said to the Widdy Mulligan that he'd not more than spake to Missis O'Donnell whin he wint in, an' that he'd go no more at all to Missis McMurthry's; an' he towld Missis O'Donnell that whin he wint to the Shamrock he'd get his sup an' thin lave at wanst, an' not go to the Widdy McMurthry's axceptin' whin his horse wanted to be shod, the blacksmith's bein' ferninst her dure that it 'ud be convaynient fur him to wait at. So he shmiled wid himself thinkin' he'd done thim complately, an' made up his mind that whin his pitaties were dug he'd give up the farm an' get over into County Clare, away from the widdys.

"But thim that think widdys are fools are desaved entirely, an' so was Misther Dooley, fur instead av his throubles bein' inded, begob, they were just begun. Ivery time he wint into the Shamrock Missis O'Donnell heard av it an' raymonshtrated wid him, an' 'ud cry at him beways it was dhrinkin' himself to death he was; afther lavin' the Shamrock, the Widdy Mulligan 'ud set wan av her boys to watch him up the strate an' see if he shtopped in the shop. Av coorse he cudn't go by, an' whin he come agin, the Widdy Mulligan 'ud gosther him about it, an' thin he'd promise not to do it agin. No more cud he go in the Widdy O'Donnell's shop widout meetin' Missis McMurthry's dawther that was always shtreelin' on the strate, an' thin her mother 'ud say to him it was a power o' salt his cow was atin', an' the Widdy O'Donnell towld him his horse must be an axpensive baste fur to nade so much shooin'.

"Thin he'd tell thim a lot o' lies that they purtinded to belave an' didn't, bekase they're such desavers thimselves that it isn't aisey fur to do thim, but Dooley begun to think if it got anny hotter fur him he'd lave the pitaties to the widdys to divide bechune thim as a raytribution fur the loss av himself, an' go to Clare widout delay.

"While he'd this bother on him he got to know owld Miss Rooney, that lived wid her mother an' father on the farm next but wan to his own, but on the other side o' the way, an' the manes be which he got to know her was this. Wan mornin', whin Dooley's man, Paddy, wint to milk the cow, bad scran to the dhrop she'd to shpare, an' he pullin' an' pullin', like it was ringin' the chapel bell he was, an' she kickin', an' no milk comin', faix not as much as 'ud blind the eye av a midge. So he wint an' towld Misther Dooley.

"'I can get no milk,' says he. 'Begorra the cow's as dhry as a fiddler's troat,' says he.

"'Musha, thin,' says Misther Dooley, 'it's the lazy omadhawn ye are. I don't belave it. Can ye milk at all?' says he.

"'I can,' says Paddy, 'as well as a calf,' says he. 'But phat's the use ov pullin'? Ye'd get the same quantity from a rope,' says he.

"So Dooley wint out an' thried himself an' didn't get as much as a shmell of milk.

"'Phat's the matther wid the baste?' says he, 'an' her on the grass from sun to sun.'

"'Be jakers,' says Paddy, 'it's my consate that she's bewitched.'

"'It's thrue fur ye,' says Dooley, as the like was aften knewn. 'Go you to Misther Rooney's wid the pail an' get milk fur the calf, an' ax if there's a Pishogue hereabouts.'

"So Paddy wint an' come back sayin' that the young lady towld him there was.

"'So there's a young lady in it,' thinks Dooley. Faix, the love av coortin' was shtrong on him. 'Did ye ax her how to raich the woman?'

"'Bedad, I didn't. I forgot,' says Paddy.

"'That's yerself entirely,' says Dooley to him agin. 'I'd betther thrust me arriants to a four-legged jackass as to wan wid two. He'd go twict as fast an' remimber as much. I'll go meself,' says he, only wantin' an axcuse, an' so he did. He found Miss Rooney thried to be plazin', an' it bein' convainient, he wint agin, an' so it was ivery day whin he'd go fur the calf's milk he'd have a chat wid her, an' sometimes come over in the avenin', bekase it wasn't healthy fur him in town just thin.

"But he wint to Owld Moll about the cow, an' the charm she gev him soon made the baste all right agin, but, be that time, he'd got used to goin' to Rooney's an' liked it betther than the town, bekase whinever he wint to town he had to make so many axcuses he was afeared the widdys 'ud ketch him in a lie.

"So he shtayed at home most times and wint over to Rooney's the rest, fur it wasn't a bad job at all, though she was about one an' forty, an' had give up the fight fur a husband an' so saiced strugglin'. As long as they've anny hope, owld maids are the most praypostherous craythers alive, fur they'll fit thimselves wid the thrappin's av a young gurrul an' look as onaisey in thim as a boy wid his father's britches on. But whin they've consinted to the sitiwation an' saiced to struggle, thin they begin to be happy an' enjoy life a bit, but there's no aise in the worruld fur thim till thin. Now Miss Rooney had gev up the contist an' plasthered her hair down on aitch side av her face so smooth ye'd shwear it was ironed it was, an' begun to take the worruld aisey.

"But there's thim that says an owld maid niver does give up her hope, only lets on to be continted so as to lay in amboosh fur anny onsuspishus man that happens to shtray along, an' faix, it looks that-a-way from phat I'm goin' to tell ye, bekase as soon as Misther Dooley begun to come over an' palather his fine talk to her an' say shwate things, thin she up an' begins shtrugglin' harder nor iver, bekase it was afther she'd let go, an' comin' onexpected-like she thought it was a dispinsation av Providence, whin rayly it was only an accident it was, beways av Dooley's cow goin' dhry an' the calf too young to lave suckin' an' ate grass.

"Annyhow, wan day, afther Misther Dooley had talked purty nice the avenin' afore, she put an her cloak, an' wint to Owld Moll an' in an' shut the dure.

"'Now, Moll,' she says to the owld cuillean, 'it's a long time since I've been to ye, barrin' the time the goat was lost, fur, sure, I lost me confidince in ye. Ye failed me twict, wanst whin John McCune forgot me whin he wint to Derry an' thin come back an' married that Mary O'Niel, the impidint young shtrap, wid the hair av her as red as a glowin' coal; an' wanst whin Misther McFinnigan walked aff from me an' married the Widdy Bryan. Now ye must do yer besht, fur I'm thinkin' that, wid a little industhry, I cud get Misther Dooley, the same that the town widdys is so flusthrated wid.'

"'An' does he come to see ye, at all?' says Moll.

"'Faith he does, an' onless I'm mishtaken is mightily plazed wid his comp'ny whin it's me that's in it,' says Miss Rooney.

"'An' phat widdys is in it,' says Moll, as she didn't know, bekase sorra a step did the widdys go to her wid their love doin's, as they naded no help, an' cud thransact thim affairs thimselves as long as their tongues held out.

"So Miss Rooney towld her, an' Moll shuk her head. 'Jagers,' says she, 'I'm afeared yer goose is cooked if all thim widdys is afther him. I won't thry,' says she.

"But Miss Rooney was as much in airnest as the widdys, troth, I'm thinkin', more, bekase she was fairly aitchin' fur a husband now she'd got her mind on it.

"'Sure, Moll,' says she, 'ye wouldn't desart me now an' it me last show. Thim widdys can marry who they plaze, bad scran to 'em, but if Misther Dooley gets from me, divil fly wid the husband I'll get at all, at all,' beginnin' to cry.

"So, afther a dale av palatherin', Moll consinted to thry, bein' it was the third time Miss Rooney had been to her, besides, she wanted to save her charackther for a knowledgeable woman. So she aggrade to do her best, an' gev her a little bag to carry wid 'erbs in it, an' writ some words on two bits av paper an' the same in Latin. It was an awful charm, no more do I remimber it, fur it was niver towld me, nor to anny wan else, fur it was too dreadful to say axceptin' in Latin an' in a whisper fur fear the avil sper'ts 'ud hear it, that don't undhershtand thim dape langwidges.

"'Now, darlint,' says owld Moll, a-givin' her wan, 'take you this charm an' kape it on you an' the bag besides, an' ye must manage so as this other paper 'ull be on Misther Dooley, an' if it fails an' he don't marry ye I'll give ye back yer money an' charge ye nothing at all,' says she.

"So Miss Rooney tuk the charms an' paid Owld Moll one pound five, an' was to give her fifteen shillins more afther she was married to Dooley.

"She wint home, bothered entirely how she'd get the charm on Dooley, an' the avenin' come, an' he wid it, an' shtill she didn't know. So he set an' talked an' talked, an' by an' by he dhrunk up the rest av the whiskey an' wather in his glass an' got up to go.

"'Why, Misther Dooley,' says she, bein' all at wanst shtruck be an idee. 'Was iver the like seen av yer coat?' says she. 'Sure it's tore in the back. Sit you down agin wan minnit an' I'll mend it afore ye can light yer pipe. Take it aff,' says she.

"'Axqueeze me,' says Dooley. 'I may be a bigger fool than I look, or I may look a bigger fool than I am, but I know enough to kape the coat on me back whin I'm wid a lady,' says he.