"I think," said M'Kenna, "that what's in the horn's far afore it."

"Oh, thin, you thoughtless crathur, if you knew somethin' I hard about you a while ago, you'd think otherwise. But, indeed, it's thrue for you; I'm sure I'd be sarry to compare what's in it to anything o' the kind I tuck. Deah Grasthias! Throth, I'm asier now a great dale nor I was."

"Will you take another sup, Darby?" inquired the young fellow in whose hands the bottle was now nearly empty; there's jist about another gla.s.s."

"Indeed, an' I 'will, avillish; an' sure you'll have my blessin' for it, an' barrin' the priest's own, you couldn't have a more luckier one--blessed be G.o.d for it--sure that's well known. In throth, they never came to ill that had it, an' never did good that got my curse!

Hoop! do you hear how that rises the wind off o' my stomach! Houp!--Deah Grasthias for that!"

"How did you larn all the prayers an' charms you have, Darby?" inquired the bottle-holder.

"It would take me too long to tell you that, avillish! But, childher, now that you're all together, make it up wid one another. Aren't you all frinds an' brothers, sworn brothers, an' why would you be fightin' among other? Misther Costigan, give me your hand; sure I heard a thrifle o'

what you were sayin' while I was suckin' my dudeen at the fire widout.

Come here, Misther Connell. Now, before the saints in glory, I lay my bitter curse an him that refuses to shake hands wid his inimy. There now--I'm proud to see it. Mike, avourneen, come here--Frank M'Kenna, gustho (* come hither), walk over here; my bitther heart's curse upon of yez, if you don't make up all quarrels this minit! Are you willin, Mike lieillaghan?"

"I have no objection in life," replied Mike, "if he'll say that Peggy Gartland won't be put to any more throuble through his manes."

"There's my hand, Mike," said Frank, "that I forget an' forgive all that's past; and in regard to Peggy Gartland, why, as she's so dark agin me, I lave her to you for good."*

"Well! see what it is to have the good intintions!--to be makin' pace an' friendship atween inimies! That's all I think about, an' nothin'

gives me greater pleas--Saints o' glory!--what's this!--Oh wurrah!--that thief of a--wurrah dheelish!--that touch o' configuration's comin' back agin!--O, thin, but it's hard to get it undher!--Oh!"--

"I'm sarry for it, Darby," replied he who held the now empty bottle; "for the whiskey's out."

"Throth, an' I'm sarry myself, for nothin' else does me good; an' Father Hoolaghan says nothin' can keep it down, barrin' the sup o' whiskey.

It's best burnt, wid a little bit o' b.u.t.ther an it; but I can't get that always, it overtakes me so suddenly, glory be to G.o.d!"

"Well," said M'Kenna, "as Mike an' myself was the manes of bringin' us together, why, if he joins me, we'll have another bottle."

"Throth, an' its fair an' dacent, an' he must do it; by the same a token, that I'll not lave the house till it's dhrunk, for there's no thrustin' yez together, you're so hot-headed an' ready to rise the hand," said Darby.

M'Kenna and Mike, having been reconciled, appeared in a short time warmer friends than ever. While the last bottle went round, those who had before been on the point of engaging in personal conflict, now laughed at their own foibles, and expressed the kindness and good-will which they felt for each other at heart.

"Now," said the mendicant, "go all of you to ma.s.s, an' as soon as you can, to confission, for it's not good to have the broken oath an' the sin of it over one. Confiss it, an' have your conscience light: sure it's a happiness that you can have the guilt taken off o' yez, childher."

"Thrue for you, Darby," they replied; "an' we'll be thinkin' of your advice."

"Ay, do, childher; an' there's Father Hoolaghan comin' down the road, so, in the name o' Goodness, we haven't a minnit to lose."

They all left the shebeen-house as he spoke except Frank and himself, who remained until they had gone out of hearing.

"Darby," said he, "I want you to come up to our house in the mornin', an' bring along wid you the things that you Stamp the cra.s.s upon the skin wid: I'm goin' to get the crucifix put upon me. But on the paril o'

your life, don't brathe a word of it to mortual."

"G.o.d enable you, avick! it's a good intintion. I will indeed be up wid you--airly too, wid a blessin'. It is that, indeed--a good intintion, sure enough."

The parish chapel was about one hundred perches from the shebeen-house in which the "boys" had a.s.sembled; the latter were proceeding there in a body when Frank overtook them.

"Mike," said he aside to Reillaghan, "we'll have time enough--walk back a bit; I'll tell you what I'm thinkin'; you never seen in your life a finer day for thracin; what 'ud you say if we give the boys the slip, never heed ma.s.s, an' set off to the mountains?"

"Won't we have time enough afther ma.s.s?" said Reillaghan.

"Why, man, sure you did hear ma.s.s once to-day. Weren't you at it last night? No, indeed, we won't be time enough afther it; for this bein'

Chris'mas day, we must be home at dinner-time; you know it's not lucky to be from the family upon set days. Hang-an-ounty, come: we'll have fine sport! I have c.o.c.ksticks * enough. The best part of the day 'll be gone if we wait for ma.s.s. Come, an' let us start."

* A c.o.c.kstick was so called from being used on c.o.c.k- Monday, to throw at a cook tied to a stake, which was a game common among the people It was about the length of a common stick, but much heavier and thicker at one end.

"Well, well," replied Reillaghan, "the sorra hair I care; so let us go. I'd like myself to have a rap at the hares in the Black Hills, sure enough; but as it 'ud be remarkable for us to be seen lavin' ma.s.s, why let us cra.s.s the field here, an' get out upon the road above the bridge."

To this his companion a.s.sented, and they both proceeded at a brisk pace, each apparently anxious for the sport, and resolved to exhibit such a frank cordiality of manner as might convince the other that all their past enmity was forgotten and forgiven.

The direct path to the mountains lay by M'Kenna's house, where it was necessary they should call, in order to furnish themselves with c.o.c.ksticks, and to bring dogs which young Frank kept for the purpose.

The inmates of the family were at ma.s.s, with the exception of Frank's mother, and Rody, the servant-man, whom they found sitting on his own bed in the barn, engaged at cards, the right hand against the left.

"Well, Rody," said Frank, "who's winnin'?"

"The left entirely," replied his companion: "the divil a game at all the right's gettin', whatever's the rason of it, an' I'm always turnin' up black. I hope none of my friends or acquaintances will die soon."

"Throw them aside--quit of them," said Prank, "give them to me, I'll put them past; an' do you bring us out the gun. I've the powdher an' shot here; we may as well bring her, an' have a slap at them. One o' the officers in the barracks of ---- keeps me in powdher an' shot, besides givin' me an odd crown, an' I keep him in game."

"Why, thin, boys," observed Rody, "what's the manin' o' this?--two o'

the biggest inimies in Europe last night an' this mornin' an' now as great as two thieves! How does that come?"

"Very asy, Rody," replied Reillaghan; "we made up the quarrel, shuck hands, an's good frinds as ever."

"Bedad, that bates c.o.c.k-fightin'," said Body, as he went to bring in the gun.

In the mean time, Prank, with the cards in his hand, went to the eave of the barn, I thrust them up under the thatch, and took out of the same nook a flask of whiskey.

"We'll want this," said he, putting it to his lips, and gulping down a portion. "Come Mike, be tastin'; and aftherwards i put this in your pocket."

Mike followed his example, and was corking the flask when Rody returned with the gun.

"She's charged," said Frank; "but we'd betther put in fresh primin' for 'fraid of her hangin' fire."

He then primed the gun, and handed it to Reillaghan. "Do you keep the gun, Mike," he added, "an' I'll keep the c.o.c.ksticks. Rody, I'll bet you a shillin' I kill more wid! the c.o.c.kstick, nor he will wid the gun, will you take me up?"

"I know a safer thrick," replied Rody; "you're a dead aim wid the c.o.c.kstick, sure enough, an' a deader with the gun, too; catch me at it."

"You show some sinse, for a wondher," observed Frank, as he and his companion left the barn, and turned towards the mountains, which rose frowning behind the house. Rody stood looking after them until they wound up slowly out of sight among the hills; he then shook his head two or three times, and exclaimed, "By dad, there's somethin' in this, if one could make out: what it is. I know Frank."

Christmas-day pa.s.sed among the peasantry, as it usually pa.s.ses in Ireland. Friends met before dinner in their own, in their neighbors', in shebeen or in public houses, where they drank, sang, or fought, according to their natural dispositions, or the quant.i.ty of liquor they had taken. The festivity of the day might be known by the unusual reek of smoke that danced from each chimney, by the number of persons who crowded the roads, by their bran-new dresses,--for if a young man or country girl can afford a dress at all, they provide it for Christmas,--and by the striking appearance of those who, having drunk a little too much, were staggering home in the purest happiness, singing, stopping their friends, shaking hands with them, or kissing them, without any regard to s.e.x. Many a time might be seen two Irishmen,' who had got drunk together, leaving a fair or market, their arms about each other's necks, from whence they only removed them to kiss and hug one another more lovingly. Notwithstanding this, there is nothing more probable than that these identical two will enjoy the luxury of a mutual battle, by way of episode, and again proceed on their way, kissing and hugging as if nothing had happened to interrupt their friendship. All the usual effects of jollity and violence, fun and fighting, love and liquor, were, of course, to be seen, felt, heard, and understood on this day, in a manner much more remarkable than on common occasions; for it maybe observed, that the national festivals of the Irish bring-out their strongest points of character with peculiar distinctness.

The family of Frank M'Kenna were sitting down to their Christmas dinner; the good man had besought a blessing upon the comfortable and abundant fare of which they were about to partake, and nothing was amiss, save the absence of their younger son.

"Musha, where on earth can this boy be stayin'?" said the father: "I'm sure this, above all days in the year, is one he oughtn't to be from home an."

The mother was about to inform him of the son's having gone to the mountains, when the latter returned, breathless, pale, and horror-struck.

Rody eyed him keenly, and laid down the bit he was conveying to his mouth.