Part 10

"'I suppose,' ses I, 'that none of us can differentiate thoroughly between good and evil. What one man thinks is right another will think is wrong, and while none of us understand the other, we can't expect things to be any better than they are. If we all thought alike, there would be no difference of opinion. And if we all agreed about religion and politics, we might have the greatest contempt for each other. And unless a man is either better or worse than ourselves, we don't pay any attention to him at all.'

"'True,' ses he.

"'We could keep bladdering away like this till the leaves fall from the trees, but you have not told me yet when the fairy princess said you would be released,' ses I.

"'When a woman can be found who don't want to get her photo taken, or see herself in a mirror, or want to read her husband's letters, or search his pockets, and when the Germans will get to Paris,' ses he.

"'You had better go back to the Lough,' ses I.

"'I will,' ses he, 'because I am getting thirsty as well as homesick.'

"And with that he shook hands with me, bid me good-by, and jumped into the waters, and that was the last I saw of the Mayor of Loughlaurna."

"There's no place like home," said Micus.

"No," said Padna.

THE LAND OF PEACE AND PLENTY

"Ah, God help us, but 'tis a bad night for poor sailors," said Padna Dan, as he pulled his chair close to the glowing hearth where faggots blazed and a kettle sang. "The strand will be strewn with wreckage to-morrow, and there will be more widows and lonely mothers in the world than ever there was before, and all because the winds have no mercy, and the sea has no mercy, and there's no mercy anywhere but in the heart of God. There's a peal of thunder now, and if the clouds burst and the rain comes, there won't be a sheaf of corn left standing in Castlebawn to-morrow."

"There will, please God," said Micus, as he stirred the fire.

"'Tis like you to have the good word," said Padna, "but I'm sick and tired of this country altogether. When we have a fine summer we have a bad autumn, and when we have a good spring we have a wet summer, and when we have a hard winter we have nothing at all. I can't understand these things. 'Pon my word, I can't."

"No, nor any one else, either," said Micus. "How is it that decent fathers and mothers rear worthless children, and worthless children rear decent fathers and mothers? Or how is it that grass grows in the fields, and the lark sings in the sky, and the trees lose their leaves in winter? Or how is it that the world isn't under water long ago after all the rain we've had since Cromwell went to hell? Or how is it that people will spend half their lifetime educating themselves, and then go to war and kill people they had no quarrel with at all?"

"Didn't I tell you I can't understand these things?" said Padna, rather piqued. "Sure if I could, I'd be a philosopher, and if I was a philosopher, I wouldn't have to worry about anything."

"And why?" said Micus.

"Because philosophers are people with easy minds and usually they have all they want."

"And what's a pessimist?" said Micus.

"A pessimist is a philosopher before he gets a good job," answered Padna.

"And what am I then?"

"What are you? You're a philosopher, of course."

"Bedad, I suppose I am," said Micus. "It takes all kinds of people to make a world, anyway."

"It does," said Padna. "Philosophers, pessimists, suffragettes, and policemen."

"The world is a strange place."

"Indeed it is, and a beautiful place, when you haven't to work for a living."

"And life is a strange thing."

"Life is a wonderful thing, a queer and bewildering thing, but a magnificent thing withal, when you're not married."

"'Tis, but no one makes the most of it. Some make it short by trying to make it long, and others make it long by trying to make it short."

"Suicide is a cowardly thing if you're married, and a brave thing if you're not, but there's nothing worse than selfishness, except being an Orangeman. They're more proud than the peacocks themselves, and no one would bother with peacocks only for their fine feathers."

"I never ate peacocks," said Micus, "but I'd rather a good piece of bacon and cabbage than the finest turkey that was ever killed, cooked, and eaten."

"Good green cabbage is a wholesome thing and bacon is better, but when a man has neither, there's nothing like a good smoke."

"That's the worst of this country," said Micus. "Some things are better than others, and a little of anything only gives you an appetite for more, and too much is as bad as too little. Too little makes one peevish and selfish, and too much makes one foolish. When you're happy, you start thinking about the days of sorrow and mourning you had, and when you're unhappy you start thinking about the days of joy and pleasure, and no matter what way you are, you want to be some other way. Sure this is no place for a man to live, if he wants to enjoy himself."

"And where would you live if not in your native land? The savage loves his native heath."

"I know he does, but the real estate men love it better, and that's why land is so dear in America. The Land of Peace and Plenty is the only place to live."

"The Land of Peace and Plenty! Where's that?"

"Oh! 'tis leagues and leagues and leagues from anywhere you know."

"And how did you get there?"

"In a ship, of course. When I was a boy, I sailed over the ocean for six months without finding a single night, nothing but days all the time, until you forgot what darkness was like. Well, one night at twelve o'clock, though 'twas broad daylight, mind you, one of our crew, Martin O'Farrell, was playing 'The Boys of Wexford' on a gadget, when lo and behold! a sea serpent puts his head out of the waters and ses: 'Bravo, Martin,' ses he. 'That's the finest tune in all the world, but play me a four-hand reel,' ses he, '"The Kerryman's Daughter," for choice, and I'll dance for you until old Ireland is free.' And Martin started to play 'The Kerryman's Daughter' and the sea serpent started to dance, and he kicked up such a devil of a row, and lashed and splashed the waters until our ship got tossed about so badly that she finally foundered, and not a soul was saved but myself."

"And how did you save yourself?"

"Well, when I saw the way things were, I thought to myself that there was trouble ahead, so I lashed a knife to each of my feet, and one on each of my hands, the way you'd see fins on a fish. I put three on my back and so many on my head that you'd think I was a porcupine, and when I looked to the west, I saw land about two or three hundred miles away. 'Fortune favors the brave as well as the foolish,' ses I, and then I started out for the shore."

"You did, is it?"

"If I didn't, how could I be telling you all about it? Well, the sea was alive with hungry sharks, but every time one swallowed me up, I cut my way through and escaped, only to be swallowed again, but even that had its advantages. I was carried nearer the shore each time, until finally I reached terra firma, as safe and as sound as a Protestant."

"How many sharks did you kill?"

"Just enough to teach the others how to behave themselves."

"And when you reached the shore, what did you do?"

"I dried my clothes on the hot sand, shaved myself with one of the knives I had on my head, and used a pool of water for a looking glass, and when I combed my hair, every lady in the land fell in love with me, but I only fell in love with one."

"And what kind was she?" asked Padna.

"She was a lady of great beauty," said Micus, "and as she passed by she looked into my eyes, and though I might live for ten thousand years I will never forget her. Sure no words that ever were spoken could describe her queenly gait and inspiring glances. She seemed to have come from some place not yet discovered by man, and looked as lonesome and as beautiful as a lily in a cabbage garden."

"And why did you not follow her and find out something about her?"

"Ah me, sure she disappeared for ever, before I could find any word at all to say. I have seen other beautiful women, but they had only the beauty of flowers which fade and die. But her beauty was the beauty which lives and never dies."

"I suppose it must be that same thing which all the people does be talking about, but don't know what it is at all, at all."

"Sure if you knew all about anything, you wouldn't be talking about it."

"That's true."

"Love is the most beautiful thing in all the world, and it isn't so much anything else as a divine state of mind."

"So 'twas in the Land of Peace and Plenty that you fell in love with a beauty who came into your life for a moment and went out of it for ever?"

"Yes," said Micus.

"An' that's why you've remained an old bachelor, was it?"

"That's the one and only reason."

"I am sorry for you," said Padna.

"You needn't be sorry," said Micus. "If a bachelor has sorrows, he has joys as well, and 'tis better to keep what you have than to lose what you haven't."

"How could you lose what you haven't?"

"Well, you might get it if you tried hard enough, and then only find discontent and disillusionment."

"I'd like to go to the Land of Peace and Plenty. It must be a wonderful place."

"A wonderful place it is, then, surely, and nearly as wonderful as the sun itself."

"When the earth goes too near the sun it is too hot, and when it goes too far away from the sun it is too cold, but in the Land of Peace and Plenty, I suppose it must be always beautiful."

"Indeed and it is."

"What do all the people do there?"

"In the Land of Peace and Plenty, nobody does anything but enjoy themselves."

"And if the Land of Peace and Plenty is such a wonderful place, how is it that the great powers of the world don't go to war for it?" asked Padna.

"Sure they did go to war for it long before you began to make mistakes," answered Micus, "and great battles were fought there too. And after the greatest battle of all was ended, the King ses to all the High Generals: 'Fellow warriors and likewise courageous omadhauns,' ses he, 'what are we fighting for, anyway? The world is large enough for us all, and there's enough of dead men already, and those that aren't dead are alive, and those that are alive are nearly dead, but all the same,' ses he, 'I must compliment you on the magnificent way you slaughtered my fellow countrymen and your own fellow men, though why you did so, or wanted to do so, God alone knows.'"

"Every man is entitled to as much enjoyment as he can afford," said Padna. "Sorrow is the price of pleasure, and the sport of nations is the curse of mankind."

"We won't discuss international politics. The world was best when people left others to mind their own business."

"Proceed about the King of the Land of Peace and Plenty," said Padna. "Interruptions and digressions are bad unless they're for one's good."

"That's true, but half a loaf is better than no bread when a man isn't hungry."

"Two heads are better than one," said Padna, "and two fools, if they are any way sensible at all, are better than a wife with a bad temper. But comparisons are odious, as the whale said to the grasshopper. Go on with your story."

"Well, the King ses to the Generals, after they had all forgotten what he first started talking about: 'I demand,' ses he, 'in the name of justice, common sense, and humanity, that we will be allowed time to bury our dead, and that there will be no thunderous cannonading of artillery, no charges of cavalry, infantry, nor anything else that might be a breach of the etiquette of war, until our last man is buried.' And then and there the Generals agreed, and from that day to this, there was never a sound, except of music, heard in the Land of Peace and Plenty."

"I don't quite understand," said Padna.

"Well," said Micus, "don't you see, when the last man was buried, some one else died, and as there will be always some one dying, there will be always some one to be buried in the Land of Peace and Plenty."

"All the water is boiled out of the kettle," said Padna.

"There's plenty more in the well," said Micus.

THE LINNET WITH THE CROWN OF GOLD

"What's troubling you at all? You're not looking yourself to-day," said Padna Dan to his friend Micus Pat, as he cut a switch from a blackthorn tree on the road to Mallow on a May morning.

"There's many a thing that troubles a man that he doesn't like to talk about," said Micus, "and many a thing that he talks about that doesn't trouble him at all."

"Maybe some one died who owed you money," said Padna.

"Well, as you seem to be anxious to know, it was the way that some one died, but the devil a ha'penny did he owe me, no more than yourself or the Pope of Rome," said Micus.

"Was he a member of the Royal Family then, or some one born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and no more brains in his head than you'd find with a sparrow?"

"He was no way connected with royalty or the aristocracy, but a decent man who always worked for a living, one Lareen, the birdcatcher from Duhallow."

"And what's the use fretting about any one who is dead and gone? Sure we must all die, and maybe there will be no one fretting about ourselves."

"There is some truth in that, but we can't always be as philosophic as we pretend to be."

"And was Lareen of such importance that you can't forget him, now that he's gone to his reward or his deserts, as the case may be?"

"Well," said Micus, "Lareen was a Murphy on his father's side and a Cassidy on his mother's, and both families were noted the world over for their love of sport, black pudding, and fresh drisheens. And Lareen, like his father and grandfather, was a birdcatcher by nature and a shoemaker by profession, and he always made boots and shoes for the parish priest and the minister, and he used to collect the money at the chapel door on Sundays. There was no man in the seven parishes who could blow the organ for vespers better than himself, but the devil a bit he ever got for all he did for others, except that he contracted rheumatics from walking in the rain while attending funerals of the poor. However, that same had its compensations, because it helped him to remember that he wasn't long for this life, and that he had a soul to save and a wife and family to support. But to go on with my story. One fine morning, as I was reading the newspaper that I got the lend of from the public house opposite the pump at the bend of the road, who should come into the house but Lareen himself, and there and then he up and ses: 'Good morning, Micus,' ses he.

"'Good morning kindly, Lareen,' ses I. 'What's the good word?'

"'Nothing in particular,' ses he.

"'Have you no news at all?' ses I.

"'Yes, I have a little,' ses he.

"'I'd like to hear it then,' ses I.

"'Very well,' ses he. 'The King of Morocco has a corn on his big toe, and he sent to the United States for a specialist to remove it.'

"'Is that so?' ses I. 'Sure 'twould be as cheap to send to London or Dublin or Cork itself for a specialist as the United States,' ses I. 'An operation like that will cost him a lot of money, anyway, but what matter? He don't have to earn it, and the more he spends, the more respectable the people will think he is. But nevertheless 'twould be cheaper for him to cut a piece out of his boot, or cut his toe off altogether, than to send to America for a doctor.'

"'True,' ses he, 'and if we were all to charge as much for the little we do as the doctors and the specialists, 'tis the way that we might make bankrupts of each other overnight, and as a consequence we might all die of want and privation.'

"'That's very true indeed, but is that all the news you have for me?' ses I.

"'Well, not exactly,' ses he. 'There was a man shot in Russia last week, the Grand Duke of Ballybrophy went to America to be lionized by the republicans and democrats, a kangaroo died in Australia, the King of Italy bought a new hat, and Queen Victoria gave a shilling for the relief of the poor of Ireland.'

"'And tell me,' ses I, 'is it all to be given to the Protestants?'

"'No,' ses he, ''tis to be equally divided among the poor of all classes.'

"'I'm glad to hear that,' ses I, 'because it denotes a fine, broad-minded, and generous spirit. But what pleases me more than anything else is that she has not forgotten that Ireland is still on the map.'

"'Why,' ses he, 'Ireland will never be forgotten while there is money to be made at politics in America, and politics, they say, is the most popular religion in the United States.'

"'And was it to tell me what I know already that brought you here?'

"'No,' ses he. 'I wanted to tell you that I dreamt of my mother's people last night, and that always brings me good luck. So as 'tis a fine hard frosty day, I'd like to go birdcatching in Fingal's Glen, and catch a dozen linnets, half a dozen finches, and maybe a couple of blackbirds and thrushes. But I haven't the makings of a sprig of birdlime, or a crib, or a good singing bird to bring with me,' ses he.

"'If that is all that's troubling you,' ses I, 'you have no longer any cause to worry. I'll give you the box of birdlime that the bishop himself made me a present of last Easter, and I'll give you the loan of the best singing bird I have in the house, a linnet that would put a nightingale or a prima donna to shame,' ses I.

"And with that I handed him the box of birdlime that was made by the best cobbler in Antrim, and I took down the linnet cage from over the half door, and gave him that also.

"And then ses I, 'Go your way and may God bless you, and if you can't catch birds with my linnet and the bishop's birdlime, you might as well go to America and try and convince the Irish-Americans that they are not a bit better than the Irish at home.'

"'Wisha, bad luck to their impudence,' ses he. 'What do they know about the Irish at home?'

"'The devil a hap'orth,' ses I. And then he put the cage under his arm and ses: 'I wish I knew how to thank you for all your kindness, and now I will trouble you for the loan of your topcoat, the fillings of a pipe, and a box of matches. For 'tis frozen with the cold I'll be, standing behind a furze bush waiting for a flock of linnets to rise, so that I may throw myself down on my face and hands on the wet grass, the way they wouldn't see me at all,' ses he.

"'A good birdcatcher,' ses I, 'will always find a place where he will be able to hide without throwing himself down on the wet grass or soft earth. However, you are welcome to the loan of my old coat, and I will make you a present of a plug of tobacco and a box of matches.'

"So after he put on the coat, he walked away with his 'May the Lord spare and protect you all the days of your life,' and a week passed before he returned. I was eating my breakfast when he called, and as he pushed open the half door with his 'God bless all here,' I up and ses: 'What luck?' ses I.

"'Don't talk to me about luck,' ses he, as he placed the overcoat, the box of birdlime, and the cage on a chair beside him. 'I'm the happiest man alive,' ses he.

"'I'm sorry to hear that,' ses I.

"'And why, might I ask?' ses he.

"'Well,' ses I, ''tis only selfish people who can be really happy. Howsomever, let me hear what you have to say.'

"'I caught a linnet with a crown of gold,' ses he.

"'You did!' ses I.

"'Yes, I did,' ses he.

"'There must be a finch or a canary in the family then,' ses I.

"'Maybe both,' ses he.

"'How does he sing?' ses I.

"'Sing!' ses he. 'Why, he never stops singing at all, only when the twilight fades and the darkness comes from east and west, and north and south, and the blackness of the night covers up the hills and the valleys, the trees and the rivers, and the streams and the houses themselves,' ses he.

"'He must be a wonder,' ses I.

"'A wonder he is surely,' ses he. 'He starts at five o'clock in the morning and sings all day.'

"'If that's so,' ses I, 'I'll be outside your door with my ear to the keyhole at quarter to five, so that I can't miss the first note to break the silence and tell us that day is come.'

"'And herself is going to stay up all night, lest she might miss even the flutter of his wings, when he wakes from his sleep,' ses Lareen.

"Well, when the morrow came, I was at Lareen's door at the peep o' day, listening to the sweetest music that was ever heard in town or city, in lonely glen or by the cobbled seashore when the storm does be raging and huge breakers dash themselves to pieces on the treacherous rocks. Wonderful indeed was the song of the linnet with the crown of gold, and musicians came from all parts of the world to hear him, and all listened with great attention and took down in a book each note as he uttered it. And when they returned home, they made operas, oratorios, and symphonies from the melodies they heard in Lareen's kitchen. And selections were made for the violin, 'cello, and organ, and played at classical concerts where the well-fed fashionable people, who have no more love for art or music than a tinker's donkey, pay for being bored to death. And thus it was that the fame of Lareen's linnet grew until the King of Spain heard all about him, and immediately he sailed away from the shores of his native country with more money in his pocket than all the kings of Europe could earn in ten thousand years. And when, after a weary journey, he found himself seated by the fire talking to Lareen, all of a sudden he up and ses: 'Lareen,' ses he, 'I'll give you a golden guinea for every mistake you have made since you came to the use of reason, if you will give me the linnet with the crown of gold,' ses he.

"'And did you accept his offer?' ses I.

"'No, I did not,' ses he.

"'You damn fool,' ses I. 'Sure, if you only got a half sovereign inself for every mistake you made since you were born, you would have been made a millionaire on the spot.'

"'And how do you know I have made so many mistakes?' ses he.

"'Why, you omadhaun,' ses I, 'don't you know as yet that nearly everything we do is some kind of a mistake or other, but we don't know it until we are told so by some one else?'

"'I do not,' ses he. 'And I am just as well pleased that I don't.'

"'And what did the king say when he heard your refusal?' ses I.

"He took out his handkerchief and began to cry, and then ses he: 'I will give you your choice of a wife, and I will give you your own way as long as you can stand it, if you will give me the linnet, and I will make you a Knight of the Spade and Turnip besides.'

"'Thank you kindly,' ses Lareen. 'But, not for all the women that ever made fools of their husbands would I part with the linnet with the crown of gold.'

"So the king sailed away that night with sadness in his heart and tears in his eyes, and 'twas said that he was never heard whistling anything till the day he died but the song of the linnet with the crown of gold.

"And then the King of Prussia came and ses to Lareen: 'There's going to be a great war one day,' ses he, 'and if you will give me the linnet with the golden crown, I will give you half of France, the whole of Belgium, and maybe the Tower of London as well, when the war is over.'

"'Don't count your chickens before they are hatched,' ses Lareen, 'and remember the gentleman who went to live on St. Helena after the battle of Waterloo.'

"'Oh, the spalpeen!' ses he. 'He was bound to be caught anyway, because he overestimated his own importance.'

"'Just like a good many more people who don't know it,' ses Lareen.

"'So you won't give me the linnet?' ses the king.

"'No,' ses Lareen. And with that the king shook his head and went his way.

"The next to come was the King of Japan. And he up and ses: 'There's going to be great ructions on the other side of the Atlantic another day, and if you will give me the linnet with the golden crown, I will give you your choice of New York or Boston when the war is over.'

"'And how are you going to land an army, might I ask?' ses Lareen.