"Where shall I get up, please your honour?" said Billy. 66 When they came back to the Fort-field, the little man dismissed Billy, bidding him to be Why, upon horseback, like me, to be sure," there the next night at the same hour. Thus said the little man. did they go on, night after night, shaping their course one night here, and another night there; sometimes north, and sometimes east, and sometimes south, until there was not a gentleman's wine-cellar in all Ireland they had not visited, and could tell the flavour of every wine in it as well-ay, better-than the butler himself. "Is it after making a fool of me you'd be," said Billy, "bidding me get a-horseback upon that bit of a rush? May be you want to persuade me that the rush I pulled but a while ago out of the bog there is a horse." "Up! up! and no words," said the little man, looking very angry, "the best horse you ever rode was but a fool to it." So Billy, thinking all this was in joke, and fearing to vex his master, straddled across the rush: "Borram! Borram! Borram!" cried the little man three times (which in English means to become great), and Billy did the same after him: presently the rushes swelled up into fine horses, and away they went full speed; but Billy, who had put the rush between his legs without much minding how he did it, found himself sitting on horseback the wrong way, which was rather awkward, with his face to the horse's tail; and so quickly had his steed started off with him, that he had no power to turn round, and there was therefore nothing for it but to hold on by the tail. At last they came to their journey's end, and stopped at the gate of a fine house: "Now, Billy," said the little man, "do as you see me do, and follow me close; but as you did not know your horse's head from his tail, mind that your own head does not spin round until you can't tell whether you are standing on it or on your heels." The little man then said some queer kind of words, out of which Billy could make no meaning; but he contrived to say them after him for all that; and in they both went through the key-hole of the door, and through one keyhole after another, until they got into the wine-cellar, which was well stored with all kinds of wine. The little man fell to drinking as hard as he could, and Billy, nowise disliking the example, did the same. "The best of masters are you, surely," said Billy to him, "no matter who is the next; and well pleased will I be with your service if you continue to give me plenty to drink." "I have made no bargain with you," said the little man, "and will make none; but up and follow me." Away they went, through key-hole after key-hole; and each mounting upon the rush which he left at the hall door, scampered off, kicking the clouds before them like snowballs, as soon as the words, "Borram! Borram! Borram!" had passed their lips. One night when Billy Mac Daniel met the little man as usual in the Fort-field, and was going to the bog to fetch the horses for their journey, his master said to him, "Billy, I shall want another horse to-night, for maybe we may bring back more company with us than we take." So Billy, who now knew better than to question any order given to him by his master, brought a third rush, much wondering who it might be that would travel back in their company, and whether he was about to have a fellow-servant. "If I have," thought Billy, "he shall go and fetch the horses from the bog every night; for I don't see why I am not, every inch of me, as good a gentleman as my master." Well, away they went, Billy leading the third horse, and never stopped until they came to a snug farmer's house in the county of Limerick, close under the old castle of Carrigogunniel, that was built, they say, by the great Brian Boru. Within the house there was great carousing going forward, and the little man stopped outside for some time to listen; then turning round all of a sudden, said, "Billy, I will be a thousand years old to-morrow." "God bless us! sir," said Billy, "will you?" "Don't say these words again," said the little man, "or you will be my ruin for ever. Now, Billy, as I will be a thousand years in the world to-morrow, I think it is full time for me to get married." "I think so, too, without any kind of doubt at all," said Billy, "if ever you mean to marry." "And to that purpose," said the little man, "have I come all the way to Carrigogunniel; for in this house, this very night, is young Darby Riley going to be married to Bridget Rooney; and as she is a tall and comely girl, and has come of decent people, I think of marrying her myself, and taking her off with me." "And what will Darby Riley say to that?" said Billy. "Silence!" said the little man, putting on a mighty severe look, "I did not bring you here with me to ask questions;" and without holding further argument, he began saying the queer words which had the power of passing him through the key-hole as free as air, and which Billy thought himself mighty clever to be able to say after him. In they both went; and for the better viewing the company, the little man perched himself up as nimbly as a cock-sparrow upon one of the big beams which went across the house over all their heads, and Billy did the same upon another facing him; but not being much accustomed to roosting in such a place, his legs hung down as untidy as may be, and it was quite clear he had not taken pattern after the way in which the little man had bundled himself up together. If the little man had been a tailor all his life, he could not have sat more contentedly upon his haunches. There they were, both master and man, looking down upon the fun that was going forward; and under them were the priest and piper-and the father of Darby Riley, with Darby's two brothers and his uncle's son-and there were both the father and the mother of Bridget Rooney, and proud enough the old couple were that night of their daughter, as good right they had-and her four sisters, with bran new ribbons in their caps, and her three brothers, all looking as clean and as clever as any three boys in Munster-and there were uncles and aunts, and gossips and cousins enough besides to make a full house of it and plenty was there to eat and drink on the table for every one of them if they had been double the number. 66 Now it happened, just as Mrs. Rooney had helped his reverence to the first cut of the pig's head which was placed before her, beautifully bolstered up with white savoys, that the bride gave a sneeze which made every one at table start, but not a soul said, God bless us!" All thinking that the priest would have done so, as he ought, if he had done his duty, no one wished to take the word out of his mouth, which, unfortunately, was pre-occupied with pig's head and greens. And after a moment's pause the fun and merriment of the bridal feast went on without the pious benediction. Of this circumstance both Billy and his master were no inattentive spectators from their exalted stations. Ha!" exclaimed the little man, throwing one leg from under him with a joyous flourish, and his eye twinkled with a strange light, whilst his eyebrows became elevated into the curvature of Gothic arches" Ha!" said he, leering down at the bride, and then up at Billy, "I have half of her now, surely. Let her sneeze but twice more, and she is mine, in spite of priest, mass-book, and Darby Riley." Again the fair Bridget sneezed; but it was so gently, and she blushed so much, that few except the little man took, or seemed to take, any notice; and no one thought of saying, "God bless us!" Billy all this time regarded the poor girl with a most rueful expression of countenance; for he could not help thinking what a terrible thing it was for a nice young girl of nineteen, with large blue eyes, transparent skin, dimpled cheeks, suffused with health and joy, to be obliged to marry an ugly little bit of a | man, who was a thousand years old, barring a day. At this critical moment the bride gave a third sneeze, and Billy roared out with all his might, "God bless us!" Whether this exclamation resulted from his soliloquy, or from the mere force of habit, he never could tell exactly himself; but no sooner was it uttered than the little man, his face glowing with rage and disappointment, sprung from the beam on which he perched himself, and shrieking out in the shrill voice of a cracked bagpipe, "I discharge you my service, Billy Mac Daniel -take that for your wages," gave poor Billy a most furious kick in the back, which sent his unfortunate servant sprawling upon his face and hands right in the middle of the supper table. If Billy was astonished, how much more so was every one of the company into which he was thrown with so little ceremony: but when they heard his story, Father Cooney laid down his knife and fork, and married the young couple out of hand with all speed; and Billy Mac Daniel danced the Rinka at their wedding, and plenty did he drink at it too, which was what he thought more of than dancing. THE KNITTER. (From Servian Popular Poetry.) The maiden sat upon the hill, Upon the hill and far away, Her fingers wove a silken cord, And thus I heard the maiden say: "O, with what joy, what ready will, If some fond youth, some youth adored, Might wear thee, should I weave thee now! The finest gold I'd interblend, The richest pearls as white as snow. But if I knew, my silken friend, That an old man should wear thee, I The coarsest worsted would inweave, Thy finest silk for dog-grass leave, And all thy knots with nettles tie!" BOWRING. TO MY HONOURED KINSMAN, JOHN DRYDEN, OF CHESTERTON, IN THE COUNTY OF HUNTINGDON, ESQ. [John Dryden, born in Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire, 1631; died in London, 1st May, 1700. His first poem of any importance was written on the occasion of Cromwell's death, and appeared in 1658. He wrote a number of plays, The Wild Gallant being the first. His Essay on Dramatic Poesy contained the first acknowledgment, after the Restoration, of Shakspeare's supremacy. He was sometime laureate, but was dispossessed of that office at the Revolution, and Shadwell, whom he had bitterly satirized, was appointed in his stead. He wrote a great deal of prose and verse, original and translated. Of his works the most widely known in modern times are Absalom and Achitophel, a political and controversial poem, first published in 1681; The Hind and the Panther, a controversial poem in defence of the Romish Church, 1687; and Alexander's Feast, which is regarded as one of the grandest compositions in lyric poetry.] How bless'd is he, who leads a country life, Promoting concord, and composing strife, He to God's image, she to his was made: So, farther from the fount, the stream at random stray'd. How could he stand, when put to double pain, Not that my verse would blemish all the fair; No porter guards the passage of your door; So may your stores, and fruitful fields increase; You feed with manna your own Israel-host. With crowds attended of your ancient race, Thus princes ease their cares; but happier he, So lived our sires, ere doctors learn'd to kill, But Maurus sweeps whole parishes, and peoples every grave; And no more mercy to mankind will use Than when he robb'd and murder'd Maro's muse. Wouldst thou be soon despatch'd, and perish whole! Trust Maurus with thy life, and M-lb-rn with thy soul. By chase our long-lived fathers earn'd their food; Toil strung the nerves, and purified the blood; But we, their sons, a pamper'd race of men, Are dwindled down to threescore years and ten. Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; The tree of knowledge, once in Eden placed, Draws physic from the fields, in draughts of vital air. You hoard not health, for your own private use; Well-born, and wealthy; wanting no support, Good senators, (and such as you,) so give, Observe the war, in every annual course; What has been done, was done with British force. Namur subdued, is England's palm alone; Even victors are by victories undone; A patriot, both the king and country serves; Of each, our laws the certain limit show, Some overpoise of sway, by turns they share; Patriots, in peace, assert the people's right; With noble stubbornness resisting might: No lawless mandates from the court receive, Nor lend by force; but in a body give. Such was your generous grandsire; free to grant In parliaments, that weigh'd their prince's want: But so tenacious of the common cause, As not to lend the king against his laws. And, in a loathsome dungeon doom'd to lie, In bonds retained his birthright liberty, And shamed oppression, till it set him free. O true descendant of a patriot line, "Tis so far good as it resembles thee: A poet is not born in every race. TO MY HONOURED KINSMAN, JOHN DRYDEN, OF CHESTERTON, IN THE COUNTY OF HUNTINGDON, ESQ. [John Dryden, born in Aldwinkle, Northamptonshire, 1631; died in London, 1st May, 1700. His first poem of any importance was written on the occasion of Cromwell's death, and appeared in 1658. He wrote a number of plays, The Wild Gallant being the first. His Essay on Dramatic Poesy contained the first acknowledgment, after the Restoration, of Shakspeare's supremacy. He was sometime laureate, but was dispossessed of that office at the Revolution, and Shadwell, whom he had bitterly satirized, was appointed in his stead. He wrote a great deal of prose and verse, original and translated. Of his works the most widely known in modern times are Absalom and Achitophel, a political and controversial poem, first published in 1681; The Hind and the Panther, a controversial poem in defence of the Romish Church, 1687; and Alexander's Feast, which is regarded as one of the grandest compositions in lyric poetry.] How bless'd is he, who leads a country life, Just, good, and wise, contending neighbours come Like your own soul, serene; a pattern of your mind. Promoting concord, and composing strife, He to God's image, she to his was made: So, farther from the fount, the stream at random stray'd. How could he stand, when put to double pain, He must a weaker than himself sustain ! Each might have stood perhaps; bu+ Two wrestlers help to pull each Not that my verse won' But yet, if some be ba And better shun th Thus have you No porter guards the passage of your To admit the wealthy, and exclude th For God, who gave the riches, gave the To sanctify the whole, by giving part Heaven, who foresaw the will, the me And to the second son, a blessing bro The first-begotten had his father's sha But you, like Jacob, are Rebecca's hear So may your stores, and fruitful f And ever be you blessed, who live t As Ceres sow'd, where'er her chariot As Heaven in deserts rain'd the br So free to many, to relations most You feed with manna your own! With crowds attended of your You seek the champaign sports, o With well-breathed beagles you s Even then, industrious of the con And often have you brought the To suffer for the firstlings of the Chased even amid the folds; and Like felons, where they did the This fiery game, your active yo Not yet by years extinguish'd, " You season still with sports yo For age but tastes of pleasures The hare, in pastures or in plan Emblem of human life, who ru And, after all his wandering w His circle fills, and ends where Just as the setting meets the Thus princes ease their cares Who seeks not pleasure throng Than such as once on slippery And chasing sigh to think th So lived our sires, ere docto And multiplied with theirs, The first physicians by deba Excess began, and sloth su Pity the generous kind their To search forbidden truths: To which, if human science The doom of death, pronou In vain the Leech would in Fate fastens first, and vin What help from art's ende Gibbons but guesses, nor l But Maurus sweeps whole grave; And no more mercy to m our long-li |