"But, Purcel, my dear friend, what am I and my domestic establishment to do? Good G.o.d! there is nothing but ruin before us! You know I always lived up to my income--indeed, at best, it was too limited for the demands of my family, and our habits of life. And now, to have the very prop--the only one on which I leant--suddenly snapt from under me--it is frightful. But you are to blame, Purcel; you are much to blame. Why did you not apprise me of this ruinous state of things before it came thus on me unawares? It was unfeeling and heartless in you not to have prepared me for it."

The proctor actually imagined, and not without reason, that the worthy doctor was beginning to get beside himself, as it is termed, on hearing such a charge as this brought against him; and he was about to express his astonishment at it, when Mr. Temple, his curate, who resided in the parsonage, made his appearance, and joined them at Dr. Turbot's request.

"Temple," said he, as the latter portion of his body began to pursue the other through the room, "are you aware of the frightful condition to which the country has come?"

"Who can be ignorant of it?" replied Temple; "how can any man live in the country, and not know it?"

"Yes, sir," replied Turbot, tartly, "I have lived in the country, and, until a few minutes ago, I was ignorant of the extent to which it has come."

"Well, sir," said Temple, "that is odd enough; for, to my own knowledge, your information has been both regular and authentic upon this subject at all events. Our friend Purcel, here, has not left you in ignorance of it."

"Yes," said Turbot, "but he had the country as bad three years ago as it is now. Was this fair? Why, I took it for granted that all his alarms and terrors were the mere play and subterfuge of the proctor upon the parson, and, consequently, thought little of it; but here I am stranded at once, wrecked, and left on my bottom. How will I meet my tradesmen?

how will I continue my establishment? and, what is worse, how can I break it up? You know, Temple, I cannot, unfortunately, live without luxuries. They are essential to my health, and if suddenly deprived of them, as I am likely to be, I cannot answer to society for the consequences."

"Sir," said Temple, "it is quite obvious that a period of severe trial and chastening is at hand, or I should rather say, has already arrived.

Many of our calling, I am grieved I to know, are even now severely suffering, and suffering, I must add, with unexampled patience and fort.i.tude under great and trying privations. Yet I trust that the health of the general body will be improved by it, and purged of the grossness and worldly feeling which have hitherto, I fear, too much characterized it. Many, I know, may think we are merely in the hands of man, but for my part, I think, and earnestly hope, that we are in those of G.o.d himself, and that He chasteneth no only because He loveth."

"This is most distressing to hear, my dear Temple," replied his rector; "but I trust I am as willing and as well prepared, from religious feeling, to suffer as another--that is, provided always I am not deprived of those comforts and little luxuries to which I have all my life been accustomed."

"I am very much afraid," observed Purcel, "that the clergy of the established church will have a very fine opportunity to show the world how well and patiently they can suffer."

"I have already said, Purcel," said the doctor, "that I am as willing to suffer as another. I know I am naturally of a patient and rather an humble disposition; let these trials come then, and I am prepared for them, provided only that I am not deprived of my little luxuries, for these are essential to my health itself, otherwise I could bear even this loss. I intended, Temple, to have had a day or two's shooting on the glebe lands, but Purcel, here, tells me that I am very unpopular, and would not, he says, recommend me to expose myself much, or if possible at all, in the neighborhood.

"And upon my word and credit I spoke nothing," replied the other, "but what I know to be truth. There is not a feather of game on the glebe lands that would be shot down with half the pleasure that the parson himself would. I beg, then, Dr. Turbot, that you won't think of it. I'll get my sons to go over the property, and if there's any game on it we shall have it sent to you."

"How does it stand for game, Temple, do you know?"

"I really cannot say," replied the good man. "The killing of game is a pursuit I have never relished, and with which I am utterly unacquainted.

I fear, however, that the princ.i.p.al game in the country will soon be the parson and the proctor."

"It's a delightful pursuit," replied the Rev. Doctor, who did not at all relish the last piece of information, and only replied to the first, "and equally conducive to health and morals. What, for instance, can be more delicious than a plump partridge or grouse, stewed in cinnamon and claret? and yet, to think that a man must be deprived of--well," said he, interrupting himself, "it is a heavy, and awful dispensation--and one that I ought to have been made acquainted with--that is, to its full and fearful extent--before it came on me thus unawares. Purcel here scarcely did his duty by me in this."

"I fear, sir," replied Temple, "that it was not Purcel who neglected his duty, but you who have been incredulous. I think he has certainly not omitted to sound the alarm sufficiently loud during the approach of this great ordeal to which we are exposed."

"And in addition to everything else, I am in arrears to you, Temple," he added; "and now I have no means of paying you."

Temple was silent, for at that moment the necessities of his family pressed with peculiar severity upon himself--and he was not exactly prepared for such an intimation. The portion of salary then coming to him was, in truth, his sole dependence at that peculiar crisis, and this failing him, he knew not on what hand or in what direction to turn.

After musing for some time, he at length replied, "If you have it not, Dr. Turbot, or cannot procure it, of course it is idle for me to expect it--although I will not deny, that in the present circ.u.mstances of my family, it would have come to us with very peculiar and seasonable relief."

"But I have not a pound," replied the doctor; "so far from that, I am pretty deeply in debt--for I need hardly say, that for years I have been balancing my affairs--paying off debts to-day, and contracting other to-morrow--always dipped, but and rather deeply, too, as I said."

He again got to his legs, when the pursuit of the latter part of his person after the rest once more took place, and in this odd way he traversed the room in a state of extreme tribulation.

"What is to be done?" he asked--"surely the government cannot abandon us?--cannot allow us to perish utterly, which we must do, if left to the mercy of our enemies? No, certainly it cannot desert us in such a strait as this, unless it wishes to surrender the established church to the dark plots and designing ambition of popery. No, no--it cannot--it must not--it dares not. Some vigorous measure for our relief must be taken, and that speedily;--let us not be too much dejected, then--our sufferings will be short--and as for myself, I am willing to make any reasonable sacrifice, provided I am not called upon--at these years--fifty-eight--to give up my usual little luxuries. Purcel, I want you to take a turn in the garden. Temple, excuse me--will you?--and say to Mrs. Temple to make no preparations, as I don't intend to stop--I shall return to Dublin in an hour at farthest; and don't be cast down, Temple; matters will soon brighten."

"It is not at all necessary, sir," replied Temple, "that you should adjorn to the garden to speak with Mr. Purcel. I was on my way to the library when I met you, and I am going there now."

"It is not so much," he replied, "that I have anything very particular to say to Purcel, as that I feel a walk in the fresh air will relieve me. Good-bye, then, for a little; I shall see you before I go."

"Now, Purcel," said he, when they had reached the garden, "this, after all, is only a false alarm, or even if it be not, we know that the government could by no means afford to abandon the established church in Ireland, because that would be, in other words, to reject the aid of, and sever themselves from all connection with, the whole Protestant party; and you, as a man of sense, Purcel, need not be told that it is only by the existence of a Protestant party in this country that they are enabled to hold it in union with England at all."

"But what has that to do with our present distresses?" said the proctor, who, as he probably began to antic.i.p.ate the doctor's ultimate object in this conversation, very shrewdly a.s.sociated himself rather in an official spirit with the embarra.s.sments of his friend, and the church in general.

"It has considerably," replied Dr. Turbot; "for instance, there will be no risk whatsoever, in lending to many of the embarra.s.sed clergy sums of money upon their! personal security, until this pressure pa.s.ses away, and their prosperity once more returns."

"Oh, ho, doctor," thought his sharp and wily companion, "I believe I have you now, Well, Dr. Turbot," he replied, "I think, the case, even as you put it, will be attended with difficulties. What, for instance, is personal security from a poor or a ruined man? very little, or rather nothing. Still it is possible that many, relying upon the proverbial honor and integrity of the Irish Protestant clergy, may actually lend money upon this security. But then," he added, with a smile, "those who will, must belong to a peculiar and privileged cla.s.s."

"Why," asked Turbot, "to what cla.s.s do you allude?"

"To one with which," said the proctor, "I unfortunately have no connection--I mean the cla.s.s that can afford to lend it."

"Purcel," said Dr. Turbot, "I am sorry to hear this ungenerous observation from you; I did not expect it."

"Why do you call it ungenerous, sir?" asked Purcel.

"Because," replied Turbot, "it is obvious that it was made in antic.i.p.ation of a favor which I was about to ask of you."

"If I can grant you any favor," replied the proctor, "I shall be most happy to do so;--if you will only let me know what it is."

"You must be particularly dull not to perceive it," replied the parson, "aware, as you are, of the unexpected state of my circ.u.mstances. In short, I want you to a.s.sist me with a few hundreds."

The proctor, after a pause, replied, "You place me in circ.u.mstances of great difficulty, sir; I am indeed anxious to oblige you, but I know not whether I can do so with honor, without violating my good faith to another party."

"I don't understand you," said Turbot.

"Then I shall explain it," replied Purcel; "the sum I can command is one of four hundred, which is at this moment virtually lent upon excellent security, at an interest of eight per cent. The loan is certainly not legally completed, but morally and in point of honor it is. Now, if I lend this money to you, sir, I must break my word and verbal agreement to the party in question."

"Very well, sir," replied the rector, who, notwithstanding the love he bore his "little luxuries," was scrupulously honorable in all money transactions, "don't attempt to break word, or to violate good faith with any man; and least of all, on my account. I presume I shall be able to raise the money somewhere else."

Purcel, who had uniformly found the doctor a sharp, but correct man in matters,of business, and who knew besides the severe pressure under which he labored at the moment, was not exactly prepared to hear from him the expression of a principle so high-minded. He paused again for some time, during which he reasoned with himself somewhat to the following effect:--"I did not expect this from the worthy doctor, but I did, that he would at once have advised me to break the agreement I mentioned and lend himself the money. I cannot think there will be much risk in lending such a man a few hundreds, especially as no such agreement as I allude to exists." He then replied as follows:--

"Doctor," he proceeded, "I have been thinking over this matter; I know you want the money, and I am sorry for it. That I have myself been a gainer by my connection with you, I will not attempt to deny, and I do not think that I should be grateful or a sincere friend to you, if I saw you now in such grievous and unexpected embarra.s.sments without making an effort to a.s.sist you. You shall have the four hundred, if you consent to the same rate of interest I was about to receive for it from the other party."

"Then you will break faith with him," replied the doctor. "I thank you, Purcel, but I will not have it."

"I break no faith with him," replied the proctor; "he was bound to have let me know, on yesterday, whether he would require the money or not, for the matter was conditional; but as I have not yet heard from him, I hold myself at liberty to act as I wish. The fault is his own."

"And on these conditions, so you are; I well, thank you again, Purcel, I accept this money on your terms, eight per cent. Nay, you oblige me very much; indeed you do."

"Well, then, that matter is settled," said the proctor, "do not speak of it," he proceeded, in reply to the doctor's last observation; "I should indeed be unworthy either of your good opinion or my own, if I held aloof from you just now. I will have a bond prepared in a day or two, but in the meantime, if you will call at my house, you may have the money home with you."

The doctor once more thanked Mm, and they were in the act of returning to the house, when the noise of a pistol was heard, and at the same moment a bullet whistled light between them, and so close to each that it was utterly impossible to say at which of the two individuals the murderous aim had been taken. The garden, a large one and highly walled in, was entered by two gates, one of which led into the back yard, the other into a corner of the lawn that was concealed from the house by a clump of trees. The latter gate, which was not so large as the other, had in it a small iron grating a little above the centre, through which any one could command a view of the greater portion of the garden. It was through this gate they had entered, and as no apprehension of any attempt of a.s.sa.s.sination had existed in the mind of either, they left the key in the outside, not having deemed it at all necessary to secure the door, by locking it within.

The proctor, to whose cowardice the worthy clergyman had not long before paid so sincere, but by no means so flattering a tribute, did not wait to make even a single observation, but ran with all his speed towards the gate, which, to his surprise and mortification, he found locked on the outside. Apprehensive, however, of a second attack, he beckoned to his companion to hasten towards the other gate, which was not visible from that through which the shot had been fired, and in the meantime, he himself ran also towards it, in order to try whether it might not be possible to get some view or trace of the a.s.sa.s.sin. He had a case of pistols in his hand, for we ought to have told the reader that neither he nor his sons ever traveled unarmed, and on reaching the back-yard, he was obliged to make a considerable circuit ere he arrived at the spot from which the shot had been fired. Here, however, he found no mark or vestige of a human being, but saw at a glance that the a.s.sa.s.sin, in order, to secure time for escape, had locked the door, and either taken the key with him or thrown it where it could not be found. It was in vain that he ran in all directions, searched every place likely to conceal the villain; not a clump of trees or ornamental shrubs remained unexamined. The search, however, was fruitless. No individual was seen, nor any clue gained on which even a conjecture could be founded. The only individual visible was our friend the _Cannie Soogah_, whose loud and mellow song was the first thing that drew their attention to him, as he came up a back avenue that led by a private and winding walk round to the kitchen-door. Purcel, on seeing him, signed hastily with his hand that he should approach, which the other, observing the unusual agitation betrayed by his gesture, immediately did at a pace considerably quickened.

"Here, Cannie," he shouted out to him, ere he had time to approach, "here has been an attempt at murder by some cold-blooded and cowardly a.s.sa.s.sin, who has, I fear, escaped us!"

"Murdher!" exclaimed the pedlar, "the Lord save and guard us!--for there's nothin' but murdher in my ears! go where I will of late, it's nothin' but bloodshed;--sure I cannot sing my harmless bit of a song along the road, but I'm stopped wid an account of some piece o' murdher or batthery, or G.o.d knows what. An' who was near gettin' it now, Misther Purcel? Not yourself, I pray Jasus this day!"