The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 12, September 19, 1840Various
History
The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 12, September 19, 1840
Various
Ireland -- Periodicals
But it is needless to dive any farther into the budget of adventures
which then and there befell me, except to mention, as a sort of set-off,
a notable retaliation that I right happily achieved on one of my
tormentors. After a scuffle, contested on both sides with considerable
toughness, I was retiring from a sort of drawn battle, when I espied a
short-legged, long-backed, crook-knee’d, lumpish-looking rascal scuttling
along through a field at a prodigious pace. He had heard the well-known
gathering-note when at a distance with some turf-cutters in a bog, and,
eager for sport, namely, a pluck at my inexpressibles, lost no time in
making for the scene. The affair was, however, over before he arrived
upon the ground; but determined that his “trevally” should not be for
nought, he gave me immediate chase up the road, reserving his fire as
if intent on close combat alone, and altogether showing such an earnest
business-like way with him, as made me set him down as a singularly
crabbed customer. On he came at a rate that soon left me nothing for
it, was I ever so much disinclined, but to face about and stand at
bay. Hereupon, however--so conversant with currish character was I now
become--a much increased ostentation of action upon his part, accompanied
with a much diminished rate of progression, and a most superfluous
discharge of barks, let me into a gratifying little secret. “Ha, my
gentleman,” thought I, “Is this the way the land lies? You’re not just
so stout a hero as you would fain be thought; and as, i’faith, I have
no notion of being made sport of by such small ware as you, I’ll just
try if I cannot give you a lesson worth the learning.” With that I again
showed him my heels, which relieved him of his rather awkward suspense,
and, turning round a corner, dexterously managed in a few moments to
have my lad ensconced in a pretty angle, with a deep pool behind him,
and a high stone wall on either side. Even in the height of my triumph
and wrath, I could not help noticing the extraordinary mutations the
outwitted ettercap underwent at this astounding juncture. The last yelp
perished incomplete: a dismal wonder-what-ails-him bewilderment, horror,
cowardice, despair, supplied a sort of prelibation of “the condign” my
injured honour and outraged rights craved in expiation. Before him I
flourished my cane in a fashion that made the very thought of contact
therewith terrible--behind him lay the expectant plunge-bath of which
he, in common with all his tribe, entertained a most hydrophobic horror.
Thrice he seemed to contemplate an eruption, and thrice my waving weapon
turned him to the watery gulf behind, and in mortal misery he appeared
to balance their respective terrors. A cogent persuasive delivered
rearward in handsome style, created a partial preponderance in favour
of the latter. One paw was passed over the fearful brim; a timely
reiteration sent the other after; the avenging rod was upraised to give
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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