Thady Delany in London.

Cromwell Argus, Volume I, Issue 32, 22 June 1870, Page 7

Thady Delany in London.

—o — following amusing epistle appeared in Fan of the 26th February:— 174 Little Pu'teney-atroot, Soho, W. Dear Sir, —'Tia meself that's* bewildered in this big place. I'll always remimber the journey over, and I'll never forget the squeal av that bonnive that I spoke to you about in tny lasth communication—l wondhor how Biddy and the crathursare gettin' on this cowld weather; if that Hall says annything to her whilst I'm away, be the powers whin I go back I'll make my elbows move like a steam-ingine before his ugly mug—but the turnings and the running betune the horses' legs in the streets is enough to puzzle a fox's mother-in-law. Makin' a journey from wan place to another is enough to make a man bate bis father. I started off the other day to go to see the landlord to give him a bit av me mind about the agint—ah, thiu, I dinno if Biddy got that thorn out that stuck in Patsy's fut the day he ran for the docther—well I was sayin' I wint to see the landlord—l'll go a bit av the way wid you, says Mick O'Brien, and so we walked an till we came to what he called Oxford-street. Now, says he, I must go to work, but you go an straight till you meet a policeman, and thin ask him the way. On I wint as brisk as you plaze till I saw a fellow for all the world like wan av thim dragoons I see at the last assizes wid his brass cap and his red coat died black. Shure I dinno what he was from Adam, but I axed a poor man who was tied betwixt two boords wid lethers on thim as big as if they wor a threaten in' notice on a chapel door—just in the same way they say O'Donovan Rossa is trated in jail—l wish I knew how Molly was gettin' on wid the book whilst I'm over here—can you show me where I'll find a policeman? says I. There's wan, says he, pointin' over to what I thought was a sojur that was in mournin' for some wan that he killed at an election. Faith I was frightened to ax annything, for if you axed a peeler in Ireland which was the way, since the Fenians have been showin' off their capers, he'd take you up and swear you were goin' to dhrlll. Can you tell me the name av this place 1 says I. This is Regent Circus, says he, pointin' to a wide part av the street wid a, lamppost stuck in the middle av it. Shure I thought he was makin' game av me, for the only circus I ever saw was wan where I saw a young woman on the back av a horse, wid as much clothes about lier as would make a nightcap for a blackbird— I was thinking this was bad weather for the whate—so I wasn't going to be bate, so says I, as plisant as a goose in the rain, how much is it to git in 1 Be the powers, 'twas he thought I was making game av him, for says lie, if ye don't walk on I'll let ye into a place where ye won't have anything to pay, so move on, says he, givin' me a shove as hard as if he thought I was goin' to the workhouse. Ah, thiu, it is meself that 'ud give m© eyes to know if the agint has turned the Widow Maloney out yet. On I wint till I come to Lester Square, where I see a most misfortunatc beast av a horse stuck

up on the top av a big tombsthone. The ould foxhunter that used to be on his back was lying on the ground in a most unkumfortable position; but be the powers 'twas himself that was't a bad horseman, for he stuck to the saddle so tight that he took a bit wid him when he fell out av the shmall av the horse's back. Who is that ould galavanthusl Bays T, spaking to a carman. Oh, says he, thit's wan av the Queen's uncles, says he, that's in static quo aunty. Well, as Mick O'Brien tould me they all spoke French about the place, I didn't say any more, for when he said something about aunty I thought the ould steeplechaser might have trated his wife improper, so all I said was, can you show me the way to the Park?—for Mick O'Brien tould me I should get there before I could get to the landlord's. So he took his pipe out of his gob, and says he, Go down by St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, says he, and you'll get to Charing Cross. On I .walks, as lively as a cricket, thinkin' I'd see a green field to get an appetite for my dinner, but I might have looked for a hundred years, for the divil a thing could I see but a church, and there was about as much grass about the pluce as there is on the floor of a coort-house—l'd give mo eyes to know if Biddy misses me much in the frost. Well, ses I to meself, I'll not trv to understand them auy more; so on I goes, with my dudheen in my jaw, as indii pindent as a peeler, till I come to a great i big house wid all the windows shut up. What place is that? says I to a sojur that was standin' outside on wan le", like a drake in the cowld. He was a dasent boy though he did wear a red coat, for scs he, that's where the Queen used to live. Begor, lays I, if I didn't know I'd have said 'twas a workhouse or a jail, says I and thin I put in a word for ould Ireland, for Bays I to him slyly, if she comes over to Ireland now and thin, says .1, we'd build

house for lior when our work ia oyer as J we'd draw in tho turf for a parish priest, and we'd thry and make her as happy as '< the flowers iu May. Well, at last I got to the masther's house and put up my hands to nock at the dure, whin I found that there was no more a knocker on it than on Jim Fitzgerald's barn, at lasht I tuk hould av a bell and gave it a pull. Be the powers I thought that 'twould pull down the kitchen. It kep' ringin' and rlngin', until out walks a play acthur, wid as much flour pasted about his head as would make a praitie cake. What do you want, says he, stickin' his nose up in the air like a salmon aftherafly. I want to see the masthur, says I. Have yon a card 1 says he. Ger out, ye stiff-necked bosthoon, says I, do you think I'd insult a gintleraan like the masthur by bringin' cards to his house, says I. If you hare anuy consate about your playin' come down to Mick O'Brien's anny evenin' before I go back, says I, and I'll give you a turn at forty-five for a conple av rounds av grog. Oh, the place is very big and the people very grand, But give me Ballymurphy in my own poor Paddy's land. Yours most obadyently, Thady Delany.