Handy Andy, Volume 2 — a Tale of Irish Life

Samuel Lover

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• Publié par: epsau
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 34
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Handy Andy, Vol.
2, by Samuel Lover
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Title: Handy Andy, Vol. 2 A Tale of Irish LifeAuthor: Samuel Lover
Release Date: December, 2004 [EBook #7180]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of
schedule] [This file was first posted on March 22,
2003]
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG
EBOOK HANDY ANDY, VOL. 2 ***
Produced by Charles Franks and the Online
Distributed Proofreading TeamHANDY ANDY
A Tale of Irish Life
IN TWO VOLUMES—VOLUME TWO
THE COLLECTED WRITINGS OF SAMUEL
LOVER (V. 4)
[Illustration: Tom Organ Loftus' Coldairian System]
[Illustration: Tom Connor's Cat]LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME TWO
Tom Organ Loftus' Coldairian System
Tom Connor's Cat
Andy's Cooking Extraordinary
Tom Organ Loftus and the Duke
The Abduction
A Crack Shot
The Challenge
The Party at Killarney
Etched by W. H. W. Bicknell from drawings by
Samuel LoverCHAPTER XXII
The night was pitch dark, and on rounding the
adjacent corner no vehicle could be seen; but a
peculiar whistle from Dick was answered by the
sound of approaching wheels and the rapid
footfalls of a horse, mingled with the light rattle of a
smart gig. On the vehicle coming up, Dick took his
little mare, that was blacker than the night, by the
head, the apron of the gig was thrown down, and
out jumped a smart servant-boy.
"You have the horse ready, too, Billy?"
"Yis, sir," said Billy, touching his hat.
"Then follow, and keep up with me, remember."
"Yis, sir."
"Come to her head, here," and he patted the little
mare's neck as he spoke with a caressing "whoa,"
which was answered by a low neigh of satisfaction,
while the impatient pawing of her fore foot showed
the animal's desire to start. "What an impatient
little devil she is," said Dick, as he mounted the gig;
"I'll get in first, Murphy, as I'm going to drive. Now
up with you—hook on the apron—that's it—are you
all right?"
"Quite," said Murphy."Then you be into your saddle and after us, Billy,"
said Dick; "and now let her go."
Billy gave the little black mare her head, and away
she went, at a slapping pace, the fire from the road
answering the rapid strokes of her nimble feet. The
servant then mounted a horse which was tied to a
neighbouring palisade, and had to gallop for it to
come up with his master, who was driving with a
swiftness almost fearful, considering the darkness
of the night and the narrowness of the road he had
to traverse, for he was making the best of his
course by cross-ways to an adjacent roadside inn,
where some non-resident electors were expected
to arrive that night by a coach from Dublin; for the
county town had every nook and cranny occupied,
and this inn was the nearest point where they could
get any accommodation.
Now don't suppose that they were electors whom
Murphy and Dick in their zeal for their party were
going over to greet with hearty welcomes and bring
up to the poll the next day. By no means. They
were the friends of the opposite party, and it was
with the design of retarding their movements that
this night's excursion was undertaken. These
electors were a batch of plain citizens from Dublin,
whom the Scatterbrain interest had induced to
leave the peace and quiet of the city to tempt the
wilds of the country at that wildest of times—during
a contested election; and a night coach was
freighted inside and out with the worthy cits, whose
aggregate voices would be of immense importance
the next day; for the contest was close, the countynearly polled out, and but two days more for the
struggle. Now, to intercept these plain
unsuspecting men was the object of Murphy,
whose well-supplied information had discovered to
him this plan of the enemy, which he set about
countermining. As they rattled over the rough by-
roads, many a laugh did the merry attorney and
the untameable Dick the Devil exchange, as the
probable success of their scheme was canvassed,
and fresh expedients devised to meet the possible
impediments which might interrupt them. As they
topped a hill Murphy pointed out to his companion
a moving light in the plain beneath.
"That's the coach, Dick—there are the lamps,
we're just in time—spin down the hill, my boy—let
me get in as they're at supper, and 'faith they'll
want it, after coming off a coach such a night as
this, to say nothing of some of them being
aldermen in expectancy perhaps, and of course
obliged to play trencher-men as often as they can,
as a requisite rehearsal for the parts they must
hereafter fill."
In fifteen minutes more Dick pulled up before a
small cabin within a quarter of a mile of the inn,
and the mounted servant tapped at the door, which
was immediately opened, and a peasant,
advancing to the gig, returned the civil salutation
with which Dick greeted his approach.
"I wanted to be sure you were ready, Barny."
"Oh, do you think I'd fail you, Misther Dick, yourhonour?"
"I thought you might be asleep, Barny."
"Not when you bid me wake, sir; and there's a nice
fire ready for you, and as fine a dhrop o' potteen
as ever tickled your tongue, sir."
"You're the lad, Barny!—good fellow—I'll be back
with you by-and-by;" and off whipped Dick again.
After going about a quarter of a mile further, he
pulled up, alighted with Murphy from the gig,
unharnessed the little black mare, and then
overturned the gig into the ditch.
"That's as natural as life," said Dick.
"What an escape of my neck I've had!" said
Murphy.
"Are you much hurt?" said Dick.
"A trifle lame only," said Murphy, laughing and
limping.
"There was a great boccagh [Footnote: Lame
beggar.] lost in you, Murphy. Wait; let me rub a
handful of mud on your face—there—you have a
very upset look, 'pon my soul," said Dick, as he
flashed the light of his lantern on him for a
moment, and laughed at Murphy scooping the mud
out of his eye, where Dick had purposely planted it.
"Devil take you," said Murtough; "that's toonatural."
"There's nothing like looking your part," said Dick.
"Well, I may as well complete my attire," said
Murtough, so he lay down in the road and took a
roll in the mud; "that will do," said he; "and now,
Dick, go back to Barny and the mountain dew,
while I storm the camp of the Philistines. I think in
a couple of hours you may be on the look-out for
me; I'll signal you from the window, so now good
bye;" and Murphy, leading the mare, proceeded to
the inn, while Dick, with a parting "Luck to you, my
boy," turned back to the cottage of Barny.
The coach had set down six inside and ten out
passengers (all voters) about ten minutes before
Murphy marched up to the inn door, leading the
black mare, and calling "ostler" most lustily. His call
being answered for "the beast," "the man" next
demanded attention; and the landlord wondered all
the wonders he could cram into a short speech, at
seeing Misther Murphy, sure, at such a time; and
the sonsy landlady, too, was all lamentations for
his illigant coat and his poor eye, sure, all ruined
with the mud:—and what was it at all? an upset,
was it? oh, wirra! and wasn't it lucky he wasn't
killed, and they without a spare bed to lay him out
dacent if he was—sure, wouldn't it be horrid for his
body to be only on sthraw in the barn, instead of
the best feather-bed in the house; and, indeed,
he'd be welcome to it, only the gintlemen from
town had them all engaged.