The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes

"By the mortial of war," he cried, rubbing his dilapidated elbow, and looking round to examine his position, "I'm on the right side of that hedge, any way."

Now, Terry perceived that the barrier he had just so successfully passed was slowly regaining its original appearance, and, to his mortification, as it gradually closed up the aperture of the cavern, the light, hitherto quite sufficient for him distinctly to see every object, faded away slowly, and finally left him in utter darkness.

"Bedad, an' a tindher-box an' a sulphur match would be about the greatest threasure I could light on at this present," said Terry, as he groped about cautiously, to find some kind of an elevation whereupon he might sit and wait for luck.

He had not been many minutes, however, in the blackness, when his quickened sense became aware of a light, reddish spot, which faintly glowed at some distance. This was the first sign of an encouraging nature he had experienced, and with a beating heart he proceeded to feel his way towards the bright indication.

Getting gradually accustomed to the dimness that surrounded him he suddenly discovered that he was opposed by a solid wall of rock, in the very centre of which the pale red glimmer still shone, like a star seen through a summer mist.

"The divil a use in my thravellin' any longer in that direction," said Terry, turning sharply round to retrace his steps, when to his amazement and consternation he encountered the same rocky barrier. Whichever way he looked all was alike, stern and impassable. He was enclosed within a stony wall, whose circumference was but little more than an arm's length, but whose height was lost in the unsearchable darkness.

"Musha, then, how the divil did I stumble into this man-thrap?" cried Terry, in consternation. "There's no way out that I can see, an' where the mischief the top of it is, is beyant my comprehendin'. Bedad, there's nothing for it but to thry an' climb up." So saying, Terry placed his foot upon what he supposed, in the uncertain light, was a bold projection of the rock, when down he stepped through it, and before he could recover his perpendicular, his body was half buried in the apparent wall.

"Be jabers, if it ain't more of their thricks – the never a rock's there, no more nor the briars was; they may make fools of my eyes, but they can't of my fingers, an' its thim I'll thrust to in future," said he; and so, keeping the light in view, he boldly dashed through all the seeming obstacles, and soon found himself once more in an open space. It was a kind of vaulted tunnel that he was now traversing, his onward path still in profound darkness, with the sole exception of the red light, which Terry imagined grew larger and more distinct, each step he took. A rush of warm air every now and then swept by him, and his tread echoed in the far distance, giving an idea of immense length.

Somewhat assured by the impunity with which he had already explored the enchanted districts, he was beginning to pick his way with freer breath, when his ears were smitten by a sound which sank his heart still deeper. It was the loud and furious barking of a pack of evidently most ferocious dogs, which approached rapidly, right in his path. On came the savage animals, louder and louder grew their terrible bark, and Terry gave himself up for lost in good earnest. It was no use to turn about and run, although that was his first impulse; so, flinging himself down on the ground, he awaited the attack of his unseen foes. He could now hear the clatter of their enormous paws, while their growlings echoed through the cavern like thunder.

"Murdher an' nouns, there's a half a hundred of them, I know there is; an' it's mince-meat they'll make of me in less than no time," cried Terry, mumbling all the prayers he could remember, and in another instant, with a tremendous roar, they were upon him, and, with stunning yells, swept over him as he lay; but not an atom did he feel, no more than if a cloud had passed across.

"If they're not at it again, the blaggards," said he, getting up, and shaking himself; "the divil a dog was there in the place at all – nothin' but mouth – but, by dad, there's enough of that to frighten the sowl out of a narvous Christian;" and once more the bold Piper started in pursuit of the coveted light. He had not proceeded very far, before he heard the distant bellowing of a bull; but, warned by his past experience, he shut his ears against the sound, and although it increased fearfully, as though some mad herd were tearing down upon him, he courageously kept on. To be sure, his breath stopped for a moment, and his pulse ceased to beat, when the thing seemed to approach his vicinity, but, as he anticipated, the terror fled by him as he stood up erect, with the sensation, only, of a passing breeze.

Terry received no further molestation, but plodded along quietly until he came right up to the place from whence the light proceeded which had hitherto guided him, and here a most gorgeous sight presented itself to his enraptured gaze.

Within a luminous opening of the cave he saw groups of living atomies, all busied in the formation of the various gems for which the rich ones of the world hunger. In one compartment were the diamond-makers; in another, those who, when finished, coated them over with the rough exterior which they hoped would prevent them from being distinguished from common pebbles. Here was a tiny multitude, fashioning emeralds of astonishing magnitude; there, a crowd of industrious elves, putting the last sparkle into some magnificent rubies.

With staring eyes, and mouth all agape with wonder and delight, Terry watched the curious process for a few moments, scarcely breathing audibly for fear of breaking the brilliant spell. What to do he did not know. Heaps of the coveted jewels lay around within his very grasp, yet how to possess himself, without danger, of a few handfuls, he couldn't imagine.

At last, resolving to make one final effort to enrich himself, he suddenly plunged his hand into the glittering mass of diamonds, presuming they were the most valuable, and, clutching a quantity, thrust them into his pocket, intending to repeat the operation until he had sufficient; but the instant that he did so, the entire cavern was rent asunder as with the force of an earthquake, the solid rock opened beneath him with a deafening explosion, and he was shot upwards as from the mouth of a cannon – up – up through the rifted cave, and miles high into the air. Not a whit injured did he feel from the concussion, saving a sense of lightness, as though he was as empty as a blown bladder. So high did he go in his aerial flight, that he plainly saw to-morrow's sun lighting up the lakes and fields of other latitudes. As soon as he had reached an altitude commensurate with the power of the explosive agency, he turned over and commenced his downward progress, and, to his great relief, found that his fall was by no means as rapid as he had anticipated – for his consciousness had not for a moment left him; on the contrary, the buoyant air supported him without difficulty, and each random gust of wind tossed him about like a feather. Well, day came, and shone, and vanished; so did the evening, and the starry night, and early morning, before Terry had completed his easy descent; when at length he touched the earth, gently as a falling leaf, and found himself lying beside the very stone from whence he had departed on his late exploration. The marks of the recent terrible convulsion were visible, however, for the vast mountain was gone, and in its place a deep, round chasm, filled to over-flowing with a dark yellow liquid, that hissed and bubbled into flame like a Tartarian lake. The rocks around him, that before had shone so resplendently, were now blackened and calcined – the lovely vegetation blasted – the paradise a desert.

"Athin, may-be, I haven't been kickin' up the divil's delights hereabouts," said Terry, as he looked round at the desolation. "But never a hair I care; haven't I got a pocket-full of big di'minds, an' won't they set me up anyway?" he continued, drawing forth the precious contents of his pocket, and placing them on the rock by his side; when, to his infinite mortification, the entire collection turned out to be nothing but worthless pebbles.

"Musha! thin, may bad luck attend yez for a set of schemin' vagabones; an' afther all my throuble it's done again I am," he cried, in a rage, emptying his pocket, and flinging away its contents in thorough disgust. "Hollo! what's this?" he cried, with a start, as he drew forth the last handful; "may I never ate bread if I haven't tuk one of the chaps prisoner, an' if it isn't a Leprechaun I'm not alive;" and sure enough there, lying in the palm of his hand, was as queer a looking specimen of fairyhood as ever the eye looked upon.

The little bit of a creature had the appearance of an old man, with wrinkled skin and withered features. It was dressed, too, in the costume of a by-gone age. A mite of a velvet coat covered its morsel of a back; a pair of velvet breeches, together with white silk stockings, and little red-heeled shoes, adorned its diminutive legs, which looked as if they might have belonged to a rather fat spider, and a stiff white wig, duly pomatumed and powdered, surmounted by a three-cornered hat, bedecked its head.

The leprechaun seemed to be in a state of insensibility, as Terry examined minutely its old-fashioned appearance. "It's just as I've heard tell of 'em," he cried, in glee; "cocked hat, an' breeches, an' buckles, an' all. Hurroo! I'm a made man if he ever comes to." With that, Terry breathed gently on the little fellow as he lay in his hand, as one would to resuscitate a drowned fly.

"I wondher if he'd have any relish for wather – here goes to thry," said Terry, plucking a buttercup flower, in whose cavity a drop of dew had rested, and holding it to the lips of the leprechaun, "Oh, murdher! if I only had a taste of whisky to qualify it; if that wouldn't bring the life into an Irish fairy, nothing would. Ha! he's openin' his bit of an eye, by dad; here, suck this, yer sowl to glory," Terry continued, and was soon gratified by seeing the leprechaun begin to imbibe the contents of the buttercup with intense avidity.

"I hope you're betther, sir," said Terry, politely.

"Not the betther for you, Mr. Terry Magra," replied the fairy, "though I'm obleeged to you for the drop o' drink."

"Indeed, an' yer welcome, sir," Terry went on, "an' more betoken, it's mighty sorry I am to have gev you any oneasiness."

"That's the last lie you towld, Mr. Terry, and you know it," the leprechaun answered, tartly, "when your heart is fairly leapin' in your body because you've had the luck to lay a howld of me."

"Well, an' can't a fella be glad at his own luck, an' yet sorry if anybody else is hurted by it," said Terry, apologetically.

"You can't humbug me, you covetious blaggard," the fairy went on. "But I'll thry you, anyway – now listen to me. The fairies that you have just been so wicked as to inthrude your unwelcome presence upon, were all leprechauns like myself – immortal essences, whose duty it was to make and guard the treasures, that you saw in spite of all the terrors that we employed to frighten you away. So long as they were unobserved by mortal eyes, our existence was a bright and glorious one; but, once seen, we are obliged to abandon our fairy life and shape, take this degrading form, and work at a degrading occupation, subject to the ailments and mishaps of frail humanity, and forced to live in constant fear of your insatiate species. Now, the only chance I have to regain the blissful immortality I have lost, is for you to be magnanimous enough to relinquish the good fortune you anticipate from my capture. Set me unconditionally free, and I can revel once more in my forfeited fairy existence – persevere in your ungenerous advantage, and I am condemned to wander a wretched out-cast through the world – now, what is your determination?"

Terry's better feelings prompted him at first to let the little creature go, but love of lucre got the upper hand, and after a slight pause of irresolution, he replied:

"Indeed, an' it's heart sick that I am to act so conthrary, but I'll leave it to yerself if it ain't agin nature for a man to fling away his luck. Shoemakin' is an iligant amusement, an' profitable; you'll soon get mighty fond of it; so, I'm afeard I'll have to throuble you to do somethin' for me."

"I thought how it would be; you're all alike," said the fairy, sadly; "selfish to the heart's core. Well, what do you want? I'm in your power, and must fulfill your desire."

"Long life to you; now ye talk sense," cried Terry, elated. "Sure I won't be hard on you – a thrifle of money is all I wish for in the world, for everything else will follow that."

"More, perhaps, than you imagine – cares and anxieties," said the leprechaun.

"I'll risk all them," replied Terry; "come, now, I'll tell you what you may do for me. Let me find a shillin' in my pocket every time I put my fist into it, an' I'll be satisfied."

"Enough! it's a bargain; and now that you have made your wish, all your power over me is gone," said the leprechaun, springing out of his hand like a grasshopper, and lighting on the branch beside him; "it's a purty sort of a fool you are," it continued, with a chuckle, "when the threasures of the universe were yours for the desire, to be contented with a pitiful pocket-full of shillin's! ho! ho!" and the little thing laughed like a cornkrake at the discomfited Terry.

"Musha! then, may bad cess to me if I don't crush the fun out of your cattherpillar of a carcass if I ketch a howlt of you," said Terry, savagely griping at the fairy; but, with another spring, it jumped into the brushwood, and disappeared.

Terry's first impulse was to dive his hand into his pocket to see if the leprechaun had kept his word, and to his great delight, there he found, sure enough, a fine bright new shilling. At this discovery his joy knew no bounds. He jumped and hallooed aloud, amusing himself flinging away shilling after shilling, merely on purpose to test the continuance of the supply. He was satisfied. It was inexhaustible, and bright dreams of a splendid future flitted before his excited imagination.

With a heart full of happiness, Terry now wended his way homeward, busying himself, as he went along, in conveying shilling after shilling from one pocket into the other, until he filled it up to the button-hole. On arriving at the village, he met a few of his old companions, but so altered that he could scarcely recognize them, while they stared at him as though he were a spectre.

"Keep us from harm," said one, "if here ain't Terry Magra come back."

"Back," cried Terry, with a merry laugh, "why, man alive, I've never been away."

"Never away, indeed, and the hair of you as white as the dhriven snow, that was as brown as a beetle's back, whin you left," said the other.

It then struck Terry that his friends in their turn had aged considerably. The youngest that he remembered had become bent and wrinkled. "The saints be good to us," he cried, "but this is mighty quare entirely. How long is it sence I've seen yez, boys?" he inquired eagerly.

"How long is it? why, a matther of twenty years or so," said one of the bystanders; "don't you know it is?"

"Faith, an' I didn't until this blessed minute," said Terry. "Have I grown ould onbeknownst to myself, I wondher?"

"Bedad, an' it's an easy time you must have had sence you've been away," said another; "not all as one as some of us."

"Well, won't you come an' taste a sup, for gra' we met?" said Terry, beginning to feel rather uneasy at the singular turn things had taken; but they shook their heads, and, without any other observation, passed on, leaving him standing alone.

"Stop!" he cried, "wait a bit; it's lashin's of money that I have – here – look;" and he drew forth a handful of the silver. It was no use, however. All their old cordiality and love of fun were gone; off they went, without even a glance behind them.

"Twenty years," said Terry to himself. "Oh, they're makin' fun of me. I don't feel a bit oulder nor I was yestherday. I'll soon be easy on that point, anyway." So he proceeded towards the old drinking-place, that he had so often spent the night in, but not an atom of it could he find. In the place where he expected to see it, there was a bran new house. He entered it, however, and going straight up to a looking-glass which stood in the room, was amazed on seeing reflected therein an apparition he could not recognize, so withered and wrinkled did it appear, and so altogether unlike what he anticipated, that he turned sharply around in the hope of finding some aged individual looking over his shoulder; but he was entirely alone – it was his own reflection, and no mistake at all about it.

"By the powers of war, but my journey into the mountains hasn't improved my personal appearance," said he. "It's easy to see that; but, never mind, I've got the money, an' that'll comfort me;" and he jingled the shillings in his pocket as if he could never weary of the sound.

In a short time the fame of Terry's wealth spread abroad, and as it may readily be imagined, he didn't long want companions. The gay and the dissolute flocked round him, and as he had a welcome smile and a liberal hand for everybody, the hours flew by, carrying uproarious jollity on their wings, and notwithstanding his infirmities of body, Terry was as happy as the days were long.

Now, while he had only to provide for his own immediate wants, and settle the whisky scores of his riotous friends, he had easy work of it. It was only to keep putting his hand into his pocket two or three dozen times a day, and there was more than sufficient. But this kind of existence soon began to grow monotonous, and Terry sighed for the more enviable pleasures of a domestic life, and inasmuch as it was now well understood that Terry was an "eligible party," he had no great difficulty in making a selection. Many of the "down hill" spinsters gave evident indications that they would be nothing loth to take him for better or for worse; and – I'm sorry to have to record the fact – not a few even of the more youthful maidens set their curls at the quondam piper. Neither his age, nor the doubtful source of his revenue, rendering him an unmarketable commodity in the shambles of Hymen.

In process of time, Terry wooed and won a demure-looking little collieen, and after having shut himself up for two or three days, accumulating money enough for the interesting and expensive ceremony, was duly bound to her for life. Now, it was that his inexhaustible pocket began to be overhauled continuously, and Terry cursed his imprudence in not asking for guineas instead of shillings. Mrs. Terry Magra possessed a somewhat ambitious desire to outvie her neighbors. Silk dresses were in demand and shawls and bonnets by the cart-load. The constant employment gave Terry the rheumatism in his muscles, until at last it was with the greatest difficulty he could force his hand into his pocket.

Before many months had elapsed, Terry was prostrated upon a sick bed, his side – the pocket-side – completely paralyzed, and as he was not one of those who lay by for a rainy day, his inability to apply to his fairy exchequer caused him to suffer the greatest privation – and where were the boon companions of his joyous hours, now? Vanished – not one of them to be seen – but haply fluttering around some new favorite of fortune, to be in his turn fooled, flattered, and when the dark day came – deserted.

When Terry grew better in health, which he did very slowly, there was a considerable back-way to make up, and the best part of his time was occupied in the mere mechanical labor of bringing out his shillings. Mrs. Magra also became more and more exacting, and the care-worn piper began to acknowledge to himself that, his good fortune was not at all comparable with the anxiety and annoyance it had produced. Again and again he deplored the chance which had placed the temptation in his way, and most especially blamed his own selfish greed, which prevented him from behaving with proper generosity toward the captured leprechaun.

"He towld me plain enough what would come of it," cried he, one day, as, utterly exhausted, he threw himself on the floor, after many hours application to the indispensable pocket; "he towld me that it would bring care and misery, an' yet I wasn't satisfied to profit by the warning. Here am I, without a single hour of comfort, everybody dhraggin' at me for money, money! an' the very sinews of me fairly wore out wid divin' for it. This sort of life ain't worth livin' for."

Before long, Terry's necessities increased to such a degree, that out of the twenty-four hours of the day and night, more than two-thirds were taken up with the now terrible drudgery by which they were to be supplied. No time had he left for relaxation – hardly for sleep. The thought of to-morrow's toil weighed on his heart, and kept him from rest. He was thoroughly miserable. It was in vain that he called upon death to put an end to him and his wretchedness together; there was no escape for him, even, by that dark road; the fear of a worse hereafter, made imminent by the consciousness of an ill-spent life, kept him from opening the eternal gate himself, to which he was often sorely tempted.

To this great despondency succeeded a course of reckless dissipation and drunkenness. Homeless at last, he wandered from one drinking-shop to another, caring nothing for the lamentable destitution in which his family was steeped; for, as is usually the case, the poorer he became the more his family increased. His deserted wife and starving little ones were forced to obtain a scanty subsistence through the degrading means of beggary. He himself never applied to his fairy resource unless to furnish sufficient of the scorching liquor as would completely drown all sense of circumstance. The slightest approach to sobriety only brought with it reflection, and reflection was madness. So, the very worst amongst the worst, in rags and filth, he staggered about the village, a mark of scorn and contempt to every passer-by, or else prone upon some congenial heap of garbage, slept off the fierceness of his intoxication, to be again renewed the instant consciousness returned.

With that extraordinary tenacity of life indicative of an originally fine constitution, which, added to a naturally powerful frame of body, might have prolonged his years even beyond the allotted space, Terry crept on in this worse than brutal state of existence for many months, until at last, one morning, after a drinking bout of more than usual excess, he was found lying in a stable to which he had crawled for shelter, insensible, and seemingly dead. Perceiving, however, some slight signs of animation yet remaining, his discoverers carried him to the public hospital, for home he had none, and his own misdeeds had estranged the affections, and closed the heart against him of her whose inclination as well as duty would have brought her quickly to his side, had he but regarded and cherished the great God-gift to man – a woman's love, and not cast it aside as a worthless thing.

Tended and cared for, however, although by stranger hands, Terry hovered a long time betwixt life and death, until at length skill and attention triumphed over the assailant, and he was restored to comparative health.

It was then, during the long solitary hours of his convalescence, when the mind was restored to thorough consciousness, but the frame yet too weak for him to quit his bed, that the recollection of his wasted existence stood spectre-like before his mental vision. Home destroyed, wife and children abandoned, friendships sundered, and himself brought to the brink of a dreaded eternity, and all through the means he had so eagerly coveted, and by which he had expected to revel in all the world's joys.

He prayed, in the earnest sincerity of awakened repentance; he prayed for Heaven's assistance to enable him to return to the straight path.

"Oh! if I once get out of this," he cried, while drops of agony bedewed his face, "I'll make amends during the brief time yet left me – I will, I will. Come what may, never again will I be beholdin' to that fearful gift. I now find to my great cost that wealth, not properly come by, is a curse and not a blessing. I'll work, with the help of the good God and his bright angels, an' may-be peace will once more visit my tortured heart."