AN IRISH MISTAKE.

New Zealand Times, Volume XXXIII, Issue 5438, 31 August 1878, Page 2 (Supplement)

AN IRISH MISTAKE.

(Chafer's Journal,) For more than twenty years it haa been my custom to recruit myself every autumn with a walking tour of over a month’s duration. By this means I have seen' more of those islands than any one of my acquaintance, and have had peeps into tho inner life of the people such os few tourists obtain. 1 In doing this I never overstrained myself, as Is now toe often the fashion. X walked just so far as I pleased, and rested when nature or my inclination gave me the hint. Sometimes iny journeys were made in tho cool of the evening, sometimes in tho early morning ; often I slept in the cabin of some laborer, and not once or twice, but a dozen times, have been forced to make my lodging under tho lee of some friendly hay-rick. One of those autumns, over ten, and less than twenty years ago, I made the west of Ireland the field of my operations. Starting from Galway, in a little less than three weeks’ time I beheld the broad waters of Corrib, Mask, and Conn—had lost myself in the wildernesses under the shadow of Croagh Patrick—and looked with awe at the bold headlands of Mayo, against which the restless Atlantic beats with a ceaseless roar. By the evening of the twenty-first day I found myself at Ballina, my mind full of indecision as to how I should occupy the week or ten days I had yet to spare. To go back over the same ground, I looked on as a waste of time; to plunge inland was to doom myself to days of weary trudging through rather uninteresting country. After deliberation I decided to head for Sligo, feeling sure that the beauties,, of Lough Gill would well repay me my long walk thither. Next morning I was up early, and, knapsack on back and stick in hand, started off on my journey. For the first mile or two the road was level and easy ; but presently its character changed, and the country around grew poor and wild. It seemed .a land drenched with constant showers, and beat upon by constant gales. There was nothing to charm me in anything I saw, so I harried on. After ten hoars’ almost constant walking, tho country began to improve, and presently I, found myself in tho little village of Ballysadare. Here I halted, for as may be expected, I was both tired and hungry. A gsod dinner, however, soon made a wonderful change in me for the better. There was still a couple of hours to pass before dark, and how better could I employ them than by attempting to cover in an easy way the five miles yet between me and Sligo ? Once there, I could make up by a day’s idleness for this day of extra exertion. So, after a short rest, I shouldered my knapsack, grasped my stick, and started off again. Once clear of the village, the country began rapidly to improve, and the scenery at one or two spots was so pleasant, that I was tempted to loiter. I was not more than half the way, when I suddenly awakened to the fact that nii»ht was beginning to fall upon me fast. “I cannot reach Sligo now before dark ; that’s certain,” I muttered, as I hoisted my knapsack an inch or two higher, and began to cover the ground at my best rate. “ However, the sooner I get there the better.” Presently I reached a spot where four roads met, and while I stood doubtful which to take, a gig driven by some one singing in a loud key overtook me. At sight of my lonely figure the gig was halted suddenly, and tho driver ceased his song. “ Ah, thin, may I ask, is your honor gom my way 1” said a foil round voice. “ It’s myself that’s mighty fond of company o’ nights about here.” “I don’t know what your way may be, I replied. “ X wish to go to Sligo.” “Ah, thin, an’ it’s that same Slige, the weary be on it, that I’d be afther goin’ to myself,” answered the driver. “But your honor looks tired—manin’ no oSince —an’ perhaps you’d take a lift in the gig ?” “ Thank you ; I will take a lift,” I replied, as I stepped forward and sprang quickly to the seat. “ The truth is, I feel rather tired, as you “ An’ has your honor walked far ?” asked the driver, as the gig rolled on towards the town. . ... “ I’ve walked from Ballina since morning, I replied quietly. “From Ballina ! There now, the Lord save m !” cried the man, as he half turned in his seat and gazed at me in astonishment. “Why, that’s a day’s work for the beat horse in the masther’s stables.” ■ ■ . “ Your master must keep good horses, if I may judge by the one before us,” X answered. “ The best in all the country, year honor, though I say it. There isn’t a gossoon in the three baronies but knows that.” “Your master’s a bit of a sportsman, then !” “ Yes, your honor; an’ if he’d stick to that, it’s himself d be the best liked man from Ballina to Ballyshanuon. You wouldn’t find a better rider or a warmer heart in a day’s march. But thim politics has been his ruin with the people.” " Oh, aye ; I have heard that Sligo is rather a hot place daring elections,” X replied. “Bat surely the people don’t turn upon their friends at such a time?” . ff turn upon their own father, if he wint agin them,” replied the driver solemnly. “See now, here I am, drivin’ the_ masther’s own gig to town just be way of a blin’, ye see, while he’s got to slip down the atrame in Jimmy Sheridan’s bit of a boat. Ah, thim politics, thim politics I” “ Ob, then there’s an election about to taka place, I presume 1” “ Thrue for ye, your honor, thrue for ye, replied the man dolefully. “ There niver was such a ruction in Sligo before, in the mimiry of man. Two lawyers a fightin’ like devils to see who’s to be mimbir.” « Then I’m just in time to see the fun ?” “ Fun, yonr honor,” echoed the man. “ It’s not meself that ’id object to_ a bit of a scrimmage now and agin. But it’s murfcher your honor’ll see before it's all over, or my name isn’t Michael O’Connor. Whist now 1 Lid ye hear nothin’ behin’ that hedge there 1” At this moment we were about the middle of a rather loansome stretch of the road, one side of which was bounded by a high thin hedge. The dusk of the evening was fast giving way to the gloom of night. “I—ah—yes, surely there is something moving there,” I replied. “ It’s some animal most likely.” “ Down in the sate 1 down, for your life ! cried the driver, as in his terror he brought the horse to a halt. “ I” His speech was out short by a couple of loud reports. A lauoe-like line of fire gushed from the hedge, and one if not two bullets whizzed past my ear. As I sprang to my feet iu the gig, the driver slid down to the mat, and lay there in a heap, moaning. “ Are you hurt ?” I asked, as I strove to get the reins out of his palsied hands. “ I’m kilt, kilt intirely ! he moaned. “ Aisy now, aisy there, your honor 1” cried a voice from behind the hedge just as I had gained tho reins. “ It’s all a mistake, your honor, all a mistake !” “ Give the mare tho whip !” give the mare the whip !” cried the driver, as ho strove to crawl under the seat; we’ll all be murthered !” Instead of taking his advice, however, I hold the mare steady, while a man pressed through the thin hedge and stood before us, a yet smoking gun on his shoulder. “ What’s the meaning of this!” I asked coolly, for tho new-comer’s coolness affected me. “Did you want to murder a person yon never saw before 1” , “I’m rale downright sorry, your honor,” replied tho man in just such a tone as he might have used had he trod upon my toe by accident ; “ but ye see you're in Wolff O'Neil’s gig, an’ I took ye for him.—Where’s that fellow Michael ?” As he said this, tho man prodded the driver with the end of his gun, while I—l actually laughed outright at the strangeness of the affair. “ Go away with ye, go away,” moaned tho driver, “ Murther ! thaves ! murther 1” “ Get up with ye, au’ take the reins, you gomeril you,” said tho man, as he gave Michael another prod that brought him half out. “You’re as big a coward as my old granny’s pet calf. Get up, and take the reins, or I’ll”

“ Oh, don’t; there, don’t say nothin', for the love of heaven !” cried the driver, as he scrambled into the seat again, and took'the reins in bis shaking hands. “ I’ll thing ye till ms, on’y put that gun away.” “ There,” replied the man, as he lowered the "un till its mouth pointed io the ground; “will that plase ye? Now, tell me where’s Squire O’Neill ?” , „ “He’s in the town bo this,” replied _ the driver. “ 0 thim politics, thim politics !" «Hum f so he’s managed to get past us, after all. Well, tell him from me, Captain Rook, that if he votes for the sarjint to-mor-row, it’s an ouueo of lead out of this he’ll be after trying to digest. Now, mind.” “I’ll tell him, captain, dear ! I'll tell him,” replied the driver, as he fingered the reins and whip nervously. “ But mayn’t we go on now ? mayn’t wo go on ?” “Yis, whiniver the gentleman pluses,” replied the man. “ An’ I’m raale sorry, as I told your honor, I’m raale sorry at the mistake.” “ Well, I’m pleased, not sorry, I replied, laughing, “ for if you’d bit me it wouldn’t have been at all pleasant. But let me advise you to make sure of your man next time before firing. Goodnight." “ Geod-uight, your honor, good night,” cried the man, as Michael gave the mare tho whip, and sent her along at the top of her speed to the oow fast-nearing lights of the town. In less than a quarter of an hour we, had . dashed through the streets, and halted opposite a large hotel. Hera Michael found his master, as he expected ; and here I put up for the night, very much to the astonishment of every one. Soon after my arrival, I asked to be shown to my room ; but it was one o’clock m the morning before the other guests ceased their noise and allowed me to go to sleep. Next day I slept rather late, and might have slept even later, but that I was rudely shaken out of a pleasant dream by a wild howl, as of a thousand demons just let loose. Starting up quickly, and looking out on the street, I saw that it was filled with a fieroe-looking crowd, out of whose many mouths had proceeded the yell that wakened me. Dragging on my clothes, I rushed down to the coffee-room. There I learned that the people outside had just accompanied Squire O’Neil back from the pollingplace, where he had been the first to vote for “ the sarjint.” Now that this fact had.become generally known, they were clamorous that he should be sent out to them, “ to tear him limb from limb.” Presently, while their cries rose loud and long, the squire entered the room—a tall, military-looking man, with a little of a horsey tone, nose like a hawk, eyes dark, yet glowing like fire. “ They don’t seem over-fond of me, I see,” he said with a smile, as he bowed to those in the room, and advauced to one of the windows anti coolly opened it, "Waving his hand, the crowd became instantly silent. “ Now, don’t be iu a hurry, gentlemen,” he said in a clear voice that must have been distinctly heard by every one. “ You shall have the honor of my company so soon as my horse can be harnessed, I assure you.” “Eh, what ! what does he mean ?” I asked of a person next mo. “ Surely ho will not venture out among these howling fiends ?” “That is just what he is going to do,” replied my companion. “ There is no use talking to hm. Ha lias given orders for the mare and gig to be got ready, and it’s as much* as any one’s life is worth to try to stop him. Wolff by name, and wolf by nature ; he is enraged at having to 'steal down here last night Tike a thief. Ah, there the fun begins ! Look out! As my companion spoke, ha gripped me by the arm, and dragged me close against a space between two windows. Next moment, a shower of stones crashed through the windows, leaving not a single inch of glass unbroken. Then, at longer or shorter intervals, volley followed volley, till the floor of the room was completely covered with road-metal and broken glass. Presently, there was a lull in the storm, and the crowd became all at once as silent as the grave. In the hush, I could distinctly hear the grating sound of the opening of some big door almost under us. I looked inquiringly at my companion. “ It’s the entry doors being opened to let the wolf out,” he said in reply. “ Ah, there he is.” I glanced out of the window, and saw the squire alone in his gig, a smile on his face, his whole bearing as cool and unconcerned as if there was not a single enemy within a thousand miles. Then I heard the great doors clang to, and as they did so, the crowd gave vent to a howl of delighted rage. At the first appearance of tho squire in his gig, the people had swayed back, and left an open space in front of the hotel. Now they seemed about to close in on him, and one man in tbe front stooped to lift a stone. Quick as lightning, the hand of the squire went to his breast, and just as the man stood upright to throw, I heard the sharp crack of a pistol. The man uttered a wild shriek of pain, clapped his bands to bis cheeks, and plunged into the crowd. The ballet had entered at one cheek and gone out at the other, after tearing away a few teeth in its passage. The man was the very person who had made the mistake in shooting at me over-night. “ A near nick that for our friend,” said the squire in his clear voice, while the crowd swayed back a pace or two. “ But tho next will be nearer still, and 1’ ve nearly balf-a-dozen still left. Now, will any of you oblige me by stooping to lift a stsne ?” He paused and glanced round, while every man in the crowd held his breath and stood still as a statue.

“No ? you won’t oblige me,” be said presently, with a sneer. Then fierce as if charging in some world-famous battle *. “ Out of my way, you scoundrels ! Faugh-a-ballagh ?” At tho word, he jerked the reins slightly, and the mare moved forward at a trot with head erect, and bearing as proud as if she knew a conqueror sat behind her. Then, in utter silence, the crowd swayed to right and left, leaving a wide alley, down which the squire drove as gaily as if the whole thing were some pleasant show. When he had disappeared, the crowd closed to again, utterly crestfallen. Then for a short time tho whole air was filled with their chattering one to another like tbe humming of innumerable bees ; and presently, without a shout, and without a single stone being thrown, the great mass melted away. Next morning, at an early hour, I left Sligo as fast as a covered conveyance could carry me. I did not care to wait for the slower means of escape by foot, fearful that next time a mistake was made with mo the shooting might possibly be better than it was at first.