The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
When my brother had got thus far in his narrative, a tap came to the
parlor-door, and immediately a stout-looking man, having the appearance
of a laborer, entered the room. “Well, Lachlin,” said my brother,
“what's the matter?”
“Why, sir,” said Lachlin, scratching his head, “I had a bit of a favor
to ax, if it would be plaisin' to you to grant it to me.”
“What is that,” said my brother. “Do you know, sir,” said he, “I haven't
been at a wake--let us see--this two or three years, anyhow; and, if
you'd have no objection, why, I'd slip up awhile to Denis Kelly's; he's
a distant relation of my own, sir; and blood's thicker than wather you
know.”
“I'm just glad you came in, Lachlin,” said my brother, “I didn't think
of you; take a chair here, and never heed the wake to-night, but sit
down and tell us about the attack on Vesey Vengeance, long ago. I'll get
you a tumbler of punch; and, instead of going to the wake to night, I
will allow you to go to the funeral to-morrow.”
“Ah, sir,” said Lachlin, “you know whenever the punch is consarned, I'm
aisily persuaded; but not making little of your tumbler, sir,” said the
shrewd fellow, “I would get two or three of them if I went to the wake.”
“Well, sit down,” said my brother, handing him one, “and we won't permit
you to get thirsty while you're talking, at all events.”
“In troth, you haven't your heart in the likes of it,” said Lachlin.
“Gintlemen, your healths--your health, sir, and we're happy to see you
wanst more. Why, thin, I remember you, sir, when you were a gorsoon,
passing to school wid your satchel on your back; but, I'll be bound
you're by no means as soople now as you were thin. Why, sir,” turning to
my brother “he could fly or kick football with the rabbits.--Well, this
is raal stuff!”
“Now, Lachlin,” said my brother, “give us an account of the attack you
made on Vesey Vengeance's house, at the Long Ridge, when all his party
were chased out of the town.”
“Why, thin, sir, I ought to be ashamed to mintion it; but you see,
gintleman, there was no getting over being connected wid them; but I
hope your brother's safe, sir!”
“Oh, perfectly safe, Lachlin; you may rest assured he'll never mention
it.”
“Well, sir,” said Lachlin, addressing himself to me, “Vesey Vengeance
was--.”
“Lachlin,” said my brother, “he knows all about Vesey; just give an
account of the attack.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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