Chapter 7

“It was one fine, frosty, moonlight night--the sky was without a cloud, and the stars all blinking that it would delight anybody's heart to look at them, when Jack was crassing a bog that lay a few fields beyant his own cabin. He was just crooning the '_Humors of Glynn_' to himself and thinking that it was a very hard case that he couldn't save anything at all, at all, to help him to the wife, when, on coming down a bank in the middle of the bog, he saw a dark-looking man leaning against a clamp of turf, and a black dog, with a pipe of tobacky in his mouth, sitting at his ase beside him, and he smoking as sober as a judge. Jack, however, had a stout heart, bekase his conscience was clear, and, barring being a little daunted, he wasn't very much afeard. 'Who is this coming down towards us?' said the black-favored man, as he saw Jack approaching them. 'It's Jack Magennis,' says the dog, making answer, and taking the pipe out of his mouth with his right paw; and after puffing away the smoke, and rubbing the end of it against his left leg, exactly as a Christian (this day's Friday, the Lord stand betune us and harm) would do against his sleeve, giving it at the same time to his comrade--'It's Jack Magennis,' says the dog, 'honest Widow Magennis's dacent son.' 'The very man,' says the other, back to him, 'that I'd wish to sarve out of a thousand. Arrah, Jack Magennis, how is every tether-length of you?' says the old fellow, putting the _furrawn_* on him--'and how is every bone in your body, Jack, my darling? I'll hould a thousand guineas,' says he, pointing to a great big bag that lay beside him, 'and that's only the tenth part of what's in this bag, Jack, that you're just going to be in luck to-night above all the nights in the year.'

* That frank, cordial manner of address which brings strangers suddenly to intimacy.

“'And may worse never happen you, Jack, my bouchal,' says the dog, putting in his tongue, then wagging his tail, and houlding out his paw to shake hands with Jack.

“'Gintlemen,' says Jack, never minding to give the dog his hand, bekase he heard it wasn't safe to touch the likes of him--'Gintlemen,' says he, 'ye're sitting far from the fire this frosty night.'

“'Why, that's true, Jack,' answers the ould fellow; 'but if we're sitting far from the fire, we're sitting very near the makins of it, man alive.' So, with this, he pulls the bag of goold over to him, that Jack might know, by the jingle of the shiners, what was in it.

“'Jack,' says dark-face, 'there's some born with a silver ladle in their mouth, and others with a wooden spoon; and if you'll just sit down on the one end of this clamp with me, and take a hand at the five and ten,' pulling out, as he spoke, a deck of cards, 'you may be a made man for the remainder of your life.'

“'Sir,' says Jack, 'with submission, both yourself and this cur--I mane,' says he, not wishing to give the dog offence, 'both yourself and this dacint gintleman with the tail and claws upon him, have the advantage of me, in respect of knowing my name; for, if I don't mistake,' says he, putting his hand to his caubeen, 'I never had the pleasure of seeing either of ye before.'

“'Never mind that,' says the dog, taking back the pipe from the other, and clapping it in his mouth; 'we're both your well-wishers, anyhow, and it's now your own fault if you're not a rich man.'

“Jack, by this time, was beginning to think that they might be afther wishing to throw luck in his way; for he had often heard of men being made up entirely by the fairies, till there was no end to their wealth.

“'Jack,' says the black man, 'you had better be led by us for this bout--upon the honor of a gintleman we wish you well: however, if you don't choose to take the ball at the right hop, another may; and you're welcome to toil all your life, and die a beggar after.'

“'Upon my reputation, what he says is true, Jack,' says the dog, in his turn, 'the lucky minute of your life is come: let it pass without doing what them that wishes your mother's son well desire you, and you'll die in a ditch.'

“'And what am I to do,' says Jack, 'that's to make me so rich all of a sudden?'

“'Why only to sit down, and take a game of cards with myself says black-brow, 'that's all, and I'm sure its not much.'

“'And what is it to be for?' Jack inquires; 'for I have no money--tare-nation to the rap itself's in my company.'

“'Well, you have yourself,' says the dog, putting up his fore-claw along his nose, and winking at Jack; 'you have yourself, man--don't be faint-hearted: he'll bet the contents of this bag;' and with that the ould thief gave it another great big shake, to make the guineas jingle again. 'It's ten thousand guineas in hard goold; if he wins, you're to sarve him for a year and a day; and if he loses, you're to have the bag.'

“'And the money that's in it?' says Jack, wishing, you see, to make a sure bargain, anyhow.

“'Ev'ry penny,' answered the ould chap, 'if you win it;' and there's fifty to one in your favor.'

“By this time the dog had gone into a great fit of laughing at Jack's sharpness about the money. 'The money that's in it, Jack!' says he; and he took the pipe out of his mouth, and laughed till he brought on a hard fit of coughing. 'O, by this and by that says he, 'but that bates Bannagher! And you're to get ev'ry penny, you thief o' the world, if you win it!' but for all that he seemed to be laughing at something that Jack wasn't up to.

“At any rate, surely, they palavered Jack betune them until he sot down and consinted. 'Well,' says he, scratching his head, 'why, worse nor lose I can't, so here goes for one trial at the shiners, any how!'

“'Now,' says the obscure gintleman, just whin the first card was in his hand, ready to be laid down, 'you're to sarve me for a year and a day, if I win; and if I lose, you shall have all the money in the bag.'

“'Exactly,' said Jack, and, just as he said the word, he saw the dog putting the pipe in his pocket, and turning his head away, for fraid Jack would see him breaking his sides laughing. At last, when he got his face sobered, he looks at Jack, and says, 'Surely, Jack, if you win, you must get all the money in the bag; and, upon my reputation, you may build castles in the air with it, you'll be so rich.'

“This plucked up Jack's courage a little, and to work they went; and how could it end otherwise than Jack to lose betune two such knowing schamers as they soon turned out to be? For, what do you think? but, as Jack was beginning the game, the dog tips him a wink--laying his fore-claw along his nose as before, as much as to say, 'Watch me, and you'll win'--turning round, at the same time, and showing Jack a nate little looking-glass, that was set in his oxther, in which Jack saw, dark as it was, the spots of all the other fellow's cards, as he thought, so that he was cock-sure of bating him. But they were a pair of downright knaves any how; for Jack, by playing to the cards that he saw in the looking-glass, instead of to them the other held in his hand, lost the game and the money. In short, he saw that he was blarnied and chated by them both; and when the game was up, he plainly tould them as much.

“'What?--you scoundrel!' says the black fellow, starting up and catching him by the collar; 'dare you go for to impache my honor?'

“'Leather him, if he says a word,' says the dog, running over on his hind-legs, and laying his shut paw upon Jack's nose. 'Say another word, you rascal!' says he, 'and I'll down you;' with this, the ould fellow gives him another shake.

“'I don't blame you so much,' says Jack to him; 'it was the looking-glass that desaved me. That cur's nothing but a black leg!'

“'What looking-glass?--you knave you!' says dark-face, giving him a fresh haul.

“'Why, the one I saw under the dog's oxther,' replied Jack.

“'Under my oxther, you swindling rascal!' replied the dog, giving him a pull by the other side of the collar; 'did ever any honest pair of gintlemen hear the like?--but he only wants to break through the agreement: so let us turn him at once into an ass, and then he'll break no more bargains, nor strive to take in honest men and win their money. Me a black-leg!' So the dark fellow drew his two hands over Jack's jaws, and in a twinkling there was a pair of ass's ears growing up out of his head. When Jack found this, he knew that he wasn't in good hands: so he thought it best to get himself as well out of the scrape as possible.

“'Gintlemen, be aisy,' says he, 'and let us understand one another: I'm very willing to sarve you for a year and a day; but I've one requist to ax, and it's this: I've a helpless ould mother at home,--and if I go with you now, she'll break her heart with grief first, and starve afterwards. Now, if your honor will give me a year to work hard, and lay in provision to support her while I'm away, I'll serve you with all the veins of my heart--for a bargain's a bargain.'

“With this, the dog gave his companion a pluck by the skirt, and, after some chat together that Jack didn't hear, they came back and said that they would comply with his wishes that far: 'So, on to-morrow twelvemonth, Jack,' says the dark fellow, 'the dog here will come to your mother's, and if you follow him he'll bring you safe to my castle.'

“'Very well, your honor,' says Jack; 'but as dogs resemble one another so much, how will I know him when he comes?'

“'Why,' answers the other, 'he'll have a green ribbon and a spy-glass about his neck, and a pair of Wellington boots on his hind legs.'

“'That's enough, sir,' says Jack, 'I can't mistake him in that dress, so I'll be ready; but, jintlemen, if it would be plasing to you both I'd every bit as soon not go home with these,' and he handled the brave pair of ears he had got, as he spoke. 'The truth is, jintlemen, I'm deluding enough without them; and as I'm so modest, you persave, why if you'd take them away, you'd oblige me!'

“To this they had no objection, and during that year Jack wrought night and day, that he might be able to lave as much provision with his poor mother as would support her in his absence; and when the morning came that he was to bid her farewell, he went down on his two knees and got her blessing. He then left her with tears in his eyes, and promised to come back the very minute his time would be up. 'Mother,' says he, 'be kind to your little family here, and feed them well, as they are all you'll have to keep you company till you see me again.'

“His mother then stuffed his pockets with bread, till they stuck out behind him, and gave him a crooked six-pence for luck; after which, he got his staff, and was just ready to tramp, when, sure enough, he spies his ould friend the dog, with the green ribbon about his neck, and the Wellington boots upon his hind legs. He didn't go in, but waited on the outside till Jack came out. They then set off, but no one knows how far they travelled, till they reached the dark gintleman's castle, who appeared very glad to see Jack, and gave him a hearty welcome.

“The next day, in consequence of his long journey, he was ax'd to do nothing; but in the coorse of the evening, the dark chap brought him into a long, frightful room, where there were three hundred and sixty-five hooks sticking out of the wall, and on every hook but one a man's head. When Jack saw this agreeable sight, his dinner began to quake within him; but he felt himself still worse, when his master pointed to the empty hook, saying, 'Now, Jack, your business to-morrow is to clane out a stable that wasn't claned for the last seven years, and if you don't have it finished before dusk--do you see that hook?'

“'Ye--yes,' replied Jack, hardly able to spake.

“'Well, if you don't have it finished before dusk, your head will be hanging on that hook as soon as the sun sets.'

“'Very well, your honor,' replied Jack; scarcely knowing what he said, or he wouldn't have said 'very well' to such a bloody-minded intention, any how---'Very well,' says he, 'I'll do my best, and all the world knows that the best can do no more.'

“Whilst this discoorse was passing betune them, Jack happened to look at the upper end of the room, and there he saw one of the beautifullest faces that ever was seen on a woman, looking at him through a little panel that was in the wall. She had a white, snowy forehead--such eyes, and cheeks, and teeth, that there's no coming up to them; and the clusters of dark hair that hung about her beautiful temples!--by the laws, I'm afeard of falling in love with her myself, so I'll say no more about her, only that she would charm the heart of a wheel-barrow. At any rate, in spite of all the ould fellow could say--heads and hooks, and all, Jack couldn't help throwing an eye, now and then, to the panel; and to tell the truth, if he had been born to riches and honor, it would be hard to fellow him, for a good face and a good figure.

“'Now, Jack,' says his master, 'go and eat your supper, and I hope you'll be able to perform your task--if not, off goes your head.'

“'Very well, your honor,' says Jack, again scratching it in the hoith of perplexity, 'I must only do what I can.'

“The next morning Jack was up with the sun, if not before him, and hard at his task; but before breakfast time he lost all heart, and little wonder he should, poor fellow, bekase for every one shovelful he'd throw out, there would come three more in: so that instead of making his task less, according as he got on, it became greater. He was now in the greatest dilemmy, and didn't know how to manage, so he was driven at last to such an amplush, that he had no other shift for employment, only to sing _Paddeen O'Rafferty_ out of mere vexation, and dance the hornpipe trebling step to it, cracking his fingers, half mad, through the stable. Just in the middle of this tantrum, who comes to the door to call him to his breakfast, but the beautiful crathur he saw the evening before peeping at him through the panel. At this minute, Jack had so hated himself by the dancing, that his handsome face was in a fine glow, entirely.

“'I think,' said, she to Jack, with one of her own sweet smiles, 'that this is an odd way of performing your task.'

“'Och, thin, 'tis you that may say that,' replies Jack; 'but it's myself that's willing to have my head hung up any day, just for one sight of you, you darling.'

“'Where did you come from?' asked the lady, with another smile that bate the first all to nothing.

“'Where did I come from, is it?' answered Jack; 'why, death-alive! did you never hear of ould Ireland, my jewel!--hem--I mane, plase your ladyship's honor.'

“'No,' she answered; 'where is that country?'

“'Och, by the honor of an Irishman,' says Jack, 'that takes the shine!--not heard of Erin--the Imerald Isle--the Jim of the ocean, where all the men are brave and honorable, and all the women--hem--I mane the ladies--chaste and beautiful?'

“'No,' said she; 'not a word: but if I stay longer I may get you blame--come in to your breakfast, and I'm sorry to find that you have done so little at your task. Your roaster's a man that always acts up to what he threatens: and, if you have not this stable cleared out before dusk, your head will be taken of your shoulders this night.'

“'Why, thin,' says Jack, 'my beautiful darl--plase your honor's ladyship--if he Dangs it up, will you do me the favor, _acushla machree_, to turn my head toardst that same panel where I saw a sartin fair face that I won't mintion: and if you do, let me alone for watching a sartin purty face I'm acquainted with.'

“'What means _cushla machree?_ inquired the lady, as she turned to go away.

“'It manes that you're the pulse of my heart, avourneen, plase your ladyship's Reverence,' says Jack.

“'Well,' said the lovely crathur, 'any time you speak to me in future, I would rather you would omit terms of honor, and just call me after the manner of your own country; instead, for instance, of calling me your ladyship, I would be better pleased if you called me cushla--something--' 'Cushla machree, ma vourneen--the pulse of my heart--my darling,' said Jack, consthering it (the thief) for her, for fraid she wouldn't know it well enough.

“'Yes,' she replied, 'cushla machree; well, as I can pronounce it, acushla machree, will you come in to your breakfast?' said the darling, giving Jack a smile that would be enough, any day, to do up the heart of an Irishman. Jack, accordingly, went after her, thinking of nothing except herself; but on going in he could see no sign of her, so he-sat down to his breakfast, though a single ounce, barring a couple of pounds of beef, the poor fellow couldn't ate, at that bout, for' thinking of her.

“Well, he went again to his work, and thought he'd have better luck; but it was still the ould game--three shovelfuls would come in for ev'ry one he'd throw out; and now he began, in earnest, to feel something about his heart that he didn't like, bekase he couldn't, for the life of him, help thinking of the three hundred and sixty-four heads, and the empty hook. At last he gave up the work entirely, and took it into his head to make himself scarce from about the old fellow's castle, altogether; and without more to do, he set off, never saying as much as 'good-bye' to his master: but he hadn't got as far as the lower end of the yard, when his ould friend, the dog, steps out of a kennel, and meets him full but in the teeth.

“'So, Jack,' says he, 'you're going to give us leg bail, I see; but walk back with yourself, you spalpeen, this minute, and join your work, or if you don't,' says he, 'it'll be worse for your health. I'm not so much your enemy now as I was, bekase you have a friend in coort that you know nothing about; so just do whatever you are bid, and keep never minding.'

“Jack went back with a heavy heart, as you may be sure, knowing that, whenever the black cur began to blarney him, there was no good to come in his way. He accordingly went into the stable, but consuming to the hand's turn he did, knowing it would be only useless; for, instead of clearing it out, he'd be only filling it.

“It was near dinner-time, and Jack was very sad and sorrowful, as how could he be otherwise, poor fellow, with such a bloody-minded ould chap to dale with? when up comes the darling of the world again, to call him to his dinner.

“'Well, Jack,' says she, with her white arms so beautiful, and her dark clusters tossed about by the motion of her walk--how are you coming on at your task?' 'How am I coming on, is it? Och, thin,' says Jack, giving a good-humored smile through the frown that was on his face, 'plase your lady--a cushla machree--it's all over with me; for I've still the same story to tell, and off goes my head, as sure as it's on my shoulders, this blessed night.'

“'That would be a pity, Jack,' says she, 'for there are worse heads on worse shoulders; but will you give me the shovel?' 'Will I give you the shovel, is it?--Och thin, wouldn't I be a right big baste to do the likes of that, any how?' says Jack; 'what! avourneen dheelish! to stand up with myself, and let this hard shovel into them beautiful, soft, white hands of your own! Faix, my jewel, if you knew but all, my mother's son's not the man to do such a disgraceful turn, as to let a lady like you take the shovel out of his hand, and he standing with his mouth under his nose, looking at you--not myself auourneen! we have no such ungenteel manners as that in our country.' 'Take my advice, Jack,' says she, pleased in her heart at what Jack said, for all she didn't purtend it--'give me the shovel, and depend upon it, I'll do more in a short time to clear the stable than you would for years.' 'Why, thin, avour-neen, it goes to my heart to refuse you; but, for all that, may I never see yesterday, if a taste of it will go into your purty, white fingers,' says the thief, praising her to her face all the time--'my head may go off, any day, and welcome, but death before dishonor. Say no more, darling; but tell your father I'll be to my dinner immediately.'

“Notwithstanding all this, by jingo, the lady would not be put off; like a raal woman, she'd have her own way; so on telling Jack that she didn't intend to work with the shovel, at all, at all, but only to take it for a minute in her hand, at long last he gave it to her; she then struck it three times on the threshel of the door, and, giving it back into his hand, tould him to try what he could do. Well, sure enough, now there was a change; for, instead of three shovelfuls coming in, as before, when he threw one out, there went nine more along with it. Jack, in coorse, couldn't do less than thank the lovely crathur for her assistance; but when he raised his head to speak to her, she was gone. I needn't say, howsomever, that he went in to his dinner with a light heart and a murdhering appetite; and when the ould fellow axed him how he was coming on, Jack tould him he was doing gloriously. 'Remember the empty hook, Jack,' said he. 'Never fear, your honor,' answered Jack, 'if I don't finish my task, you may bob my head off anytime.'

“Jack now went out, and was a short time getting through his job, for before the sun set it was finished, and he came into the kitchen, ate his supper, and, sitting down before the fire, sung 'Love among the Roses,' and the 'Black Joke,' to vex the ould fellow.

“This was one task over, and his head was safe for that bout; but that night, before he went to bed, his master called him upstairs, brought him into the bloody room, and gave him his orders for the next day. 'Jack,' says he, 'I have a wild filly that has never been caught, and you must go to my demesne to-morrow, and catch her, or if you don't--look there,' says the big blackguard, 'on that hook it hangs, before to-morrow, if you havn't her at sunset in the stable that you claned yesterday.' 'Very well, your honor,' said Jack, carelessly, 'I'll do every thing in my power, and if I fail, I can't help it.'

“The next morning, Jack was out with a bridle in his hand, going to catch the filly. As soon as he got into the domain, sure enough, there she was in the middle of a green field, grazing quite at her ase. When Jack saw this he went over towards her, houlding out his hat as if it was full of oats; but he kept the hand that had the bridle in it behind his back, for fraid she'd see it and make off. Well, my dear, on he went till he was almost within grip of her, cock-sure that he had nothing more to do than slip the bridle over her neck and secure her; but he made a bit of a mistake in his reckoning, for though she smelt and snoaked about him, just as if she didn't care a feed of oats whether he caught her or not, yet when he boulted over to hould her fast, she was off like a shot with her tail cocked, to the far end of the demesne, and Jack had to set off hot foot after here. All, however, was to no purpose; he couldn't come next or near her for the rest of the day, and there she kept coorsing him about from one field to another, till he hadn't a blast of breath in his body.

“In this state was Jack when the beautiful crathur came out to call him home to his breakfast, walking with the pretty small feet and light steps of her own upon the green fields, so bright and beautiful, scarcely bending the flowers and the grass as she went along, the darling.

“'Jack,' says she, 'I fear you have as difficult a task to-day as you had yesterday.'

“'Why, and it's you that may say that with your own purty mouth,' says Jack, says he; for out of breath and all as he was, he couldn't help giving her a bit of blarney, the rogue.

“'Well, Jack,' says she, 'take my advice, and don't tire yourself any longer by attempting to catch her; truth's, best--I tell you, you could never do it; come home to your breakfast, and when you return again, 'just amuse yourself as well as you can until dinner-time.'