The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 9 August 1917, Page 3

The Storyteller

(By D. P. Conyngham, LL.D.)

THE O'DONNELLS OF GLEN COTTAGE A TALE OF THE FAMINE YEARS IN IRELAND.

CHAPTER X.—MR. BAKER’S NOBLE EXPLOITS.—MR. O’DONNELL’S FAMILY.

It is fit that we should return to our friend, Mr. Baker, who by this time had finished his little snack. Mr. Baker was an attorney of very limited practice indeed. lie preferred getting his living by pandering to the tastes of Lord Clearall, and other gentlemen, than by perseverance in a lucrative profession, He was a man of very poor abilities, and although he was looked upon as Lord Clearall’s law-agent, still, any cases of importance or difficulty were handed over to men better versed in their business. In fact, he was merely tolerated as a kind of family dependent or lumber, that could not be well thrown away. His humorous eccentricities gained him a ready introduction to the tables of the neighboring gentry. Besides, it being known that he was the guest and law-agent to Lord Clearall, was another strong letter of recommendation. We are all fond of basking in the shade of nobility. There are few disciples of Diogenes now in existence, and so our friend found. Mr. Baker was naturally indolent and a sensualist, and therefore ho thought it much easier and pleasanter to eat a good dinner with his neighbor, than to go to the trouble of providing one himself. Mr. Baker seldom condescended to dine with farmers; so, after dining with Lord Clearall and Sir , and Mr. , he could not infringe so far on his dignity ; however, he relaxed a little on behalf of Mr. O’Donnell, for,, as he said, Mr. O’Donnell had the right blood in him, and was a respectable man ; the truth is, Mr. O’Donnell kept a good table, and gave him some legal employment connected with his bank, that added to his slender income.

As 1 have remarked, Mr. Baker had peculiarities and eccentricities; though a noted coward, still, he would keep his hearers in roars with all his encounters with robbers and murderers. He had a powerful constitution, or rather appetite, for he was able to eat and drink as much as four moderate men. He possessed a good deal of the narrow-minded bigotry of the old school, and it was laughable to witness his endeavors at trying not to damn the papists or send the Pope to hell, when in company with Catholics. On the whole, this Mr. Baker was not a bad kind of man ; he was, in fact, more a fool than a knave.

Mr. Baker had finished his little lunch, and then carefully drew his seat near the fire.

Frank and Willy Shea joined the party at the table. Kate O’Donnell sat in an easy chair reading a book, and her mother and Bessy were seated on the sofa near her.

“This is comfortable, ay, comfortable, by Jove,’ and Mr. Baker looked from the bright fire, over which he held his hands a few seconds, into his glass of sparkling punch; so it was hard to say which he pronounced comfortable; perhaps the two; or perhaps he was taking in the whole in his mind’s eye, and thinking what a happy man Mr. O’Donnell was, with his kind wife and fair children, as they sat around that cheerful fire, and that table sparkling with glasses and decanters and streaming lights. Mr. Baker was an old bachelor—and strange things do run in old bachelor’s heads for, when they enter a little Eden of domestic bliss, they wonder why they were born to mope alone through life, without one tendril to keep alive the affections, or one green vine to cling to them for support. “Heigh ho! Very comfortable!” said Mr. Baker, and he rubbed his hands and looked around again.

“Yes,” said Mr. O’Donnell; “a bright fire of a chilly evening, with your family around you, telling some innocent stories, or singing some pretty little songs, are comfortable things, no doubt, Mr. Baker.” Mr. Baker sighed. “I wonder you never married, Mr. Baker,” said Mrs. O'Donnell,” “Never, ma’am; never. Begad, I once thought of it when young; something or another knocked it U P —I should tell you, the match was made, ay, made. I was so fond of that pretty little girl. I—oh, I see, lam making a fool of myself: and” here he wiped his eyes and blew his nose very strongly— ‘‘that snuff makes a person sneeze so. Well, as I said before, she took the fever—God forgive me for cursingbad luck to it!—What's that I said? Yes, she died, and I never minded marrying since.” After all, there were fine feelings lurking in that, blustering rough man’s heart. “Never married, Mrs. O’Donnell; though Lord Clearall, for we are particular friends, says to me, “Baker, travel where you will, there is no place so pleasant as home.’ ”

“Well, Mr. Baker,” said Frank, ‘‘l didn’t see you since the races of Cashel; how did you get home?” “Capitally, boy, capitally. You rode well. A pleasant night we had at the hotel pooh, hah, pooh!” and Mr. Baker leaned back in his chair, and then indulged in a pinch of snuff and a pooh. “That Mr. B said something to me, didn’t he They know the lion is getting old, Frank, so they do. Pooh!— God be with the good old times, when, if a man said anything to you, you need but send a friend to him and appoint a nice cosy corner of a field, and there quietly settle the affair. Now the law won’t allow that satisfaction. Did you see that little affair between Cooke and myself how it was prevented ? The police got the scent and dogged us. I always think that Cooke sold the pass, and sent word of the whole affair ; for you know he was a stag, Frank—a stag: and knew well that I’d shoot him.”

"The worst of it is, Mr. Baker, Mr. Cooke's friends gave out that it was you who forewarned the police." "Oh, of course, Frank, of course, trying to shift the blame off themselves: he was a stag, sir, a stag—pooh "Mr. Baker," said Mr. O'Donnell, who could scarce conceal a smile at the blundering of his guest : "Mr. Baker, I am told our worthy agent is about resigning, as he does not wish to carry out his lordship's orders about clearing the Lisduff property; do you know is it true ?"

“Yes, I think he will; good man he was: he and the old lord pulled well together; tender old man that old lord was; never tossed anyone out, but supported widows and orphans, or, as the present lord calls them, idlers and stragglers —ay, faith, that’s it. I don’t see why he should resign. All poor people on that Lisduff. What loss are their wretched cabins? Besides, his lordship wants to make one sheep-walk of the whole, or let it to large tenants. Fine farm-houses are more comfortable and tasty than poor cabins; and, as his lordship says, 4 Why shouldn’t he do as he likes with his own And why not, Mr. O’Donnell?” “Is it possible, Mr. Baker,” said Frank, “that his lordship means to turn all the small farmers off the Lisduff property Sure their little farms and cabins are as dear to them as is his palace to his lordship.” “Wejl, well; that may be, Frank that may be; but then you know they belong to his lordship, and why not do as he pleases with them?” “And what will become of the poor people, Mr. Baker?” said Kate.

“Can’t say, Miss Kate, can’t say; I suppose they will go to America, or do the best they can. They are a lot of poor wretches, poor d P , hem, hem, ha! poor creatures, I mean.” Kate sighed, and Frank held down his head, for he did not wish to argue the matter further with Mr. Baker, knowing his prattling propensities, and fearing that his lordship would feel offended at any strictures

on the management of his property from a tenant. “Is it known'who will replace him?” said Mr. O’Donnell. V. . .-

“You see how it is, Mr. O’Donnell; of course I will get a preference, as his lordship and I are particular friends; but then I won’t take it, d nme if I do; I am now getting too old; besides, I don’t like hunting out poor devils,l am d—— if I do; so I suppose Mr. Ellie, our worthy Scotch friend, will come in.” ‘Now, he has feathered his nest pretty well under his lordship.” ‘Remarkably well; ay, that is it; I will tell—but this is between ourselves, honor bright—as I was saying, he came there a poor steward, let me see, about twenty years ago. He didn’t make much hand of the old lord, but he picked up some nice farms for himself and his friends ;• according as the young lord wanted money, he supplied him with hundreds and thou* sands so, when the old man died, he became a righthand man with the son. He supplies him with money at his calls. His lordship finds him very easy in his terms. He sometimes takes a mortgage upon this farm or that, merely for form’s sake, Mr. O’Donnell, but he is sure that it is on some property nearly out of lease; so in order to improve the land, and carry out a system of high farming, he ejects the tenants, builds houses, and improves the land, and then brings over his friends from Scotland, who get the land at about half what the poor paps I beg pardon, Mr. O’Donnell, I mean no offence ; as I was saying, they take the land for about half the rent the pa O yes! the old tenants I mean, paid for it, Mr. Ellis taking care to be well paid by the new comers; but all this sub rosa, you see, sub rosa ; so Mr. Ellis is getting rich every day, while his lordship is getting poor; and the poor P a tenants, I mean, are sent about their business, to beg, or starve, or die, as they please.-” “Good God cried Willy Shea, “can this be true Where is that Constitution that boasts of being the protection of the weak against the strong? The slave is fed and cared by his master, he is property; but the Irish slave cannot be bought or sold, therefore he has no value as property; it is true, he is the slave of circumstances, and his master is generally a tyrant that crushes him. Why does not the law protect- the weak ?”

“Pooh! all nonsense, young man ; pooh! I fancy I know something about the law ; don’t I, Mr. O’Donnell

" Certainly, Mr. Baker." "Yes, sir, I do. Frank, hand over the decanter while water is hot. So Ido know something about it; now, will you tell me who makes the laws? Don't the landlords? a pity they wouldn't make laws against themselves, ay, young man?" "But haven't we representatives, sir; what are they about?" "Granted, granted, my young friend; who are your representatives but your landlords or their nominees all a set of place-hunting schemers, who bamboozle the people and then laugh at them; no wonder, faith." "God help the poor tenants," said Mr. O'Donnell; "they are the worst off." "To be sure, man, to be sure; between the landlords and members, the poor are tossed about like a shuttle-cock."

“It is a strange country, indeed,” said Willy Shea, “where men cannot live on the fruits of a soil so fertile— a soil literally teeming with milk and honey — a soil blessed by God but cursed by man. What have we gained by our modern civilisation What by our connection with England ? - Why, in the feudal times there was a kind of tie of clanship, and a rough, but social intercourse between the country gentlemen and their tenants, or retainers, that mad© them feel that they were bound by a kind of family bond but now the tenants are not needed as a display or protection to the landlord ; they are, therefore,* retained or dismissed at his whim or option. Is it a wonder,