"Oh, for G.o.d's sake, Art, don't begin to put any trust in your own mere strength, nor don't be boasting of what you did, the way you do; sure, we ought always to be very humble and thankful to G.o.d for what he has done for us; is there anything comes to us only through him?"

"I'm takin' no pride to myself," said Art, "divil a taste; but this I know, talk as you will, there's always somethin' in the ould blood."

"Now, Art," she replied, smiling, "do you know I could answer you on that subject if I liked?"

"You could," said Art; "come, then, let us hear your answer--come now--ha, ha, ha!"

She became grave, but complacent, as she spoke. "Well, then, Art," said she, "where was the ould blood when you fell so low? If it was the ould blood that riz you up, remember it was the ould blood that put you down.

You drank more whiskey," she added, "upon the head of the ould blood of Ireland, and the great Fermanagh Maguires, than you did on all other subjects put together. No, Art dear, let us not trust to ould blood or young blood, but let us trust to the grace o' G.o.d, an' ax it from our hearts out."

"Well, but arn't we in great comfort now?"

"We are," she replied, "thank the Giver of all good for it; may G.o.d continue it to us, and grant it to last!"

"Last! why wouldn't it last, woman alive? Well, begad, after all, 'tis not every other man, any way--"

"Whisht, now," said Margaret, interrupting him, "you're beginnin' to praise yourself."

"Well, I won't then; I'm going down the town to have a gla.s.s or two o'

cordial wid young Tom Whiskey, in Barney Scaddhan's."

"Art," she replied, somewhat solemnly, "the very name of Barney Scaddhan sickens me. I know we ought to forgive every one, as we hope to be forgiven ourselves; but still, Art, if I was in your shoes, the sorra foot ever I'd put inside his door. Think of the way he trated you; ah, Art acushla, where's the pride of the ould blood now?"

"Hut, woman, divil a one o' me ever could keep in bad feelin' to any one. Troth, Barney of late's as civil a crature as there's alive; sure what you spake of was all my own fault and not his; I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Well," said his wife, "there's one thing, Art, that every one knows."

"What is that, Margaret?"

"Why, that a man's never safe in bad company."

"But sure, what harm can they do me, when we drink nothing that can injure us?"

"Well, then," said she, "as that's the case, can't you as well stay with good company as bad?"

"I'll not be away more than an hour."

"Then, since you will go, Art, listen to me; you'll be apt to meet Toal Finnigan there; now, as you love me and your childre, an' as you wish to avoid evil and misfortune, don't do any one thing that he proposes to you: I've often tould you that he's your bitterest enemy."

"I know you did; but sure, wanst a woman takes a pick (pique) aginst a man she'll never forgive him. In about an hour mind." He then went out.

The fact is, that some few of those who began to feel irksome under the Obligation--by which I mean the knaves and hypocrites, for it is not to be supposed that among such an incredible mult.i.tude as joined the movement there were none of this description--some few, I say, were in the habit of resorting to Barney Scaddhan's for the social purpose of taking a gla.s.s of the true Teetotal cordial together. This drinking of cordial was most earnestly promoted by the cla.s.s of low and dishonest publicans whom we have already described, and no wonder that it was so; in the first place, it's sale is more profitable than that of whiskey itself, and, in the second place, these fellows know by experience that it is the worst enemy that teetolism has, very few having ever strongly addicted themselves to cordial, who do not ultimately break the pledge, and resume the use of intoxicating liquor. This fact was well known at the time, for Father Costelloe, who did every thing that man could do to extend and confirm the principle of temperance, had put his parishioners on their guard against the use of this deleterious trash. Consequently, very few of the Ballykeerin men, either in town or parish, would taste it; when they stood in need of anything to quench their thirst, or nourish them, they confined themselves to water, milk, or coffee.

Scarcely any one, therefore, with the exception of the knaves and hypocrites, tampered with themselves by drinking it.

The crew whom Art went to meet on the night in question consisted of about half a dozen, who, when they had been in the habit of drinking whiskey, were hardened and unprincipled men--profligates in every sense--fellows that, like Toal Finnigan, now adhered to teetotalism from sordid motives only, or, in other words, because they thought they could improve their business by it. It is true, they were suspected and avoided by the honest teetotallers, who wondered very much that Art Maguire, after the treatment he had formerly received at their hands, should be mean enough, they said, ever "to be hail fellow well met" with them again. But Art, alas! in spite of all his dignity of old blood, and his rodomontade about the Fermanagh Maguires, was utterly deficient in that decent pride which makes a man respect himself, and prevents him from committing a mean action.

For a considerable time before his arrival, there were a.s.sembled in Barney Scaddhan's tap, Tom Whiskey, Jerry Shannon, Jack Mooney, Toal Finnigan, and the decoy duck, young Barney Scaddhan himself, who merely became a teetotaller that he might be able to lure his brethren in to spend their money in drinking cordial.

"I wondher Art's not here before now," observed Tom Whiskey; "blood alive, didn't he get on well afther joinin' the 'totallers?"

"Faix, it's a miracle," replied Jerry Shannon, "there's not a more 'spbnsible man in Ballykeerin, he has quite a Protestant look;--ha, ha, ha!"

"Divil a sich a pest ever this house had as the same Art when he was a blackguard," said young Scaddhan; "there was no keepin' him out of it, but constantly spungin' upon the dacent people that wor dhrmkin' in it."

"Many a good pound and penny he left you for all that, Barney, my lad,"

said Mooney; "and purty tratement you gave him when his money was gone."

"Ay, an' we'd give you the same," returned Scaddhan, "if your's was gone, too; ha, ha, ha! it's not moneyless vagabones we want here."

"No," said Shannon, "you first make them moneyless vagabones, an' then you kick them out o' doors, as you did him."

"Exactly," said the hardened miscreant, "that's the way we live; when we get the skin off the cat, then we throw out the carca.s.s."

"Why, dang it, man," said Whiskey, "would you expect honest Barney here, or his still honester ould rip of a father, bad as they are, to give us drink for nothing?"

"Now," said Finnigan, who had not yet spoken, "yez are talkin' about Art Maguire, and I'll tell yez what I could do; I could bend my finger that way, an' make him folly me over the parish."

"And how could you do that?" asked Whiskey.

"By soodherin' him--by ticklin' his empty pride--by dwellin' on the ould blood of Ireland, the great Fermanagh Maguires--or by tellin' him that he's betther than any one else, and could do what n.o.body else could."

"Could you make him drunk to-night?" asked Shannon.

"Ay," said Toal, "an' will, too, as ever you seen him in your lives; only whin I'm praisin' him do some of you oppose me, an' if I propose any thing to be done, do you all either support me in it, or go aginst me, accordin' as you see he may take it."

"Well, then," said Mooney, "in ordher to put you in spirits, go off, Barney, an' slip a gla.s.s o' whiskey a piece into this cordial, jist to tighten it a bit--ha, ha, ha!"

"Ay," said Tom Whiskey, "till we dhrink success to teetotalism, ha, ha, ha!"

"Suppose you do him in the cordial," said Shannon.

"Never mind," replied Toal; "I'll first soften him a little on the cordial, and then make him tip the punch openly and before faces, like a man."

"Troth, it's a sin," observed Moonoy, who began to disrelish the project; "if it was only on account of his wife an' childre."

Toal twisted his misshapen mouth into still greater deformity at this observation--

"Well," said he, "no matter, it'll only be a good joke; Art is a dacent fellow, and afther this night we won't repate it. Maybe," he continued "I may find it necessary to vex him, an' if I do, remember you won't let him get at me, or my bread's baked."

This they all promised, and the words were scarcely concluded, when Art entered and joined them. As a great portion of their conversation did not bear upon the subject matter of this narrative, it is therefore unnecessary to record it. After about two hours, during which Art had unconsciously drunk at least three gla.s.ses of whiskey, disguised in cordial, the topic artfully introduced by Toal was the Temperance Movement.

"As for my part," said he, "I'm half ashamed that I ever joined it. As I was never drunk, where was the use of it? Besides, it's an unmanly thing for any one to have it to say that he's not able to keep himself sober, barrin' he takes an oath, or the pledge."

"And why did you take it then?" said Art.

"Bekaise I was a fool," replied Toal; "devil a thing else."

"It's many a good man's case," observed Art in reply, "to take an oath against liquor, or a pledge aither, an' no disparagement to any man that does it."