The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector: The Works of William Carleton, Volume OneCarleton, William
General
The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector: The Works of William Carleton, Volume One
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
In the meantime, although the youthful performer of this daring feat may
be said to have passed among them like an arrow from a bow, yet it so
happened that the secret of his identity did not rest solely with Torley
Davoren. In a few minutes whisperings began to take place, which spread
gradually through the crowd, until at length the name of _Shawn na
Middogue_ was openly pronounced, and the secret--now one no longer--was
instantly sent abroad through the people, to whom his fearful leap was
now no miracle. The impression so long entertained of his connection
with the fairies was thus confirmed, and the black stranger was no
other, perhaps, than the king of the fairies himself.
At this period of the proceedings Mrs. Lindsay, in consequence of some
significant whispers which were directly levelled at her character,
suggested to Maria that having seen enough of these wild proceedings,
it would be more advisable to return home--a suggestion to which Maria,
whose presence there at all was in deference to her father's wishes,
very gladly consented. They accordingly placed themselves under the
escort of the redoubtable and gallant twins, and reached home in safety.
It was now expected that the quality would go down to the inn, where the
largest room had been fitted up for refreshments and dancing, and into
which none but the more decent and respectable classes were admitted.
There most of the beauties of the town and the adjoining neighborhood
were assembled, together with their admirers, all of whom entered into
the spirit of the festivity with great relish. When Lindsay and his
company were about to retire from the great bonfire, the conductors of
the pageant, who also acted as spokesmen on the occasion, thus addressed
them:
“It's right, your honors, that you should go and see the dancin' in
the inn, and no harm if you shake a heel yourselves, besides taking
something to wash the dust out o' your throats; but when you come out
again, if you don't find a fresh and high blaze before you still, the
devil's a witch.”
As they proceeded toward the inn, the consequences of the drink, which
the crowd had so abundantly received, began, here and there, to manifest
many unequivocal symptoms. In some places high words were going on, in
others blows; and altogether the affair seemed likely to terminate in a
general conflict.
“Father,” said his son Charles, “had you not better try and settle these
rising disturbances?”
“Not I,” replied the jovial magistrate; “let them thrash one another
till morning; they like it, and I make it a point never to go between
the poor people and their enjoyments. Gadzooks, Charley, don't you know
it would be a tame and discreditable affair without a row?”
“Yes; but now that they've got drunk, they're cheering you, and groaning
my mother.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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