Part 34 (1/2)
This might do for a while, but it could not last. They were idle, drunken, and ill-conducted; and it was not to be supposed that they would get a farthing candle on their words. They were, of course, _dhruv_ to great straits; and faith, they soon found that their fighting, and drinking, and idleness made them the laughing-sport of the neighbours; but neither brought food to their _childhre_, put a coat upon their backs, nor satisfied their landlord when he came to look for his own. Still, the never a one of Bill but was a funny fellow with strangers, though, as we said, the greatest rogue unhanged.
One day he was standing against his own anvil, completely in a brown study--being brought to his wit's end how to make out a breakfast for the family. The wife was scolding and cursing in the house, and the naked creatures of childhre squalling about her knees for food. Bill was fairly at an amplush, and knew not where or how to turn himself, when a poor withered old beggar came into the forge, tottering on his staff. A long white beard fell from his chin, and he looked as thin and hungry that you might blow him, one would think, over the house.
Bill at this moment had been brought to his senses by distress, and his heart had a touch of pity towards the old man; for, on looking at him a second time, he clearly saw starvation and sorrow in his face.
”G.o.d save you, honest man!” said Bill.
The old man gave a sigh, and raising himself with great pain, on his staff, he looked at Bill in a very beseeching way.
”Musha, G.o.d save you kindly!” says he; ”maybe you could give a poor, hungry, helpless ould man a mouthful of something to ait? You see yourself I'm not able to work; if I was, I'd scorn to be behoulding to anyone.”
”Faith, honest man,” said Bill, ”if you knew who you're speaking to, you'd as soon ask a monkey for a churn-staff as me for either mate or money. There's not a blackguard in the three kingdoms so fairly on the _shaughran_ as I am for both the one and the other. The wife within is sending the curses thick and heavy on me, and the childhre's playing the cat's melody to keep her in comfort. Take my word for it, poor man, if I had either mate or money I'd help you, for I know particularly well what it is to want them at the present spaking; an empty sack won't stand, neighbour.”
So far Bill told him truth. The good thought was in his heart, because he found himself on a footing with the beggar; and nothing brings down pride, or softens the heart, like feeling what it is to want.
”Why, you are in a worse state than I am,” said the old man; ”you have a family to provide for, and I have only myself to support.”
”You may kiss the book on that, my old worthy,” replied Bill; ”but come, what I can do for you I will; plant yourself up here beside the fire, and I'll give it a blast or two of my bellows that will warm the old blood in your body. It's a cold, miserable, snowy day, and a good heat will be of service.”
”Thank you kindly,” said the old man; ”I _am_ cold, and a warming at your fire will do me good, sure enough. Oh, it _is a bitter, bitter day; G.o.d bless it!” _ He then sat down, and Bill blew a rousing blast that soon made the stranger edge back from the heat. In a short time he felt quite comfortable, and when the numbness was taken out of his joints, he b.u.t.toned himself up and prepared to depart.
”Now,” says he to Bill, ”you hadn't the food to give me, but _what you could you did_. Ask any three wishes you choose, and be they what they may, take my word for it, they shall be granted.”
Now, the truth is, that Bill, though he believed himself a great man in point of 'cuteness, wanted, after all, a full quarter of being square; for there is always a great difference between a wise man and a knave. Bill was so much of a rogue that he could not, for the blood of him, ask an honest wish, but stood scratching his head in a puzzle.
”Three wishes!” said he. ”Why, let me see--did you say _three_?”
”Ay,” replied the stranger, ”three wishes--that was what I said.”
”Well,” said Bill, ”here goes,--aha!--let me alone, my old worthy!--faith I'll overreach the parish, if what you say is true.
I'll cheat them in dozens, rich and poor, old and young: let me alone, man,--I have it here;” and he tapped his forehead with great glee.
”Faith, you're the sort to meet of a frosty morning, when a man wants his breakfast; and I'm sorry that I have neither money nor credit to get a bottle of whiskey, that we might take our _morning_ together.”
”Well, but let us hear the wishes,” said the old man; ”my time is short, and I cannot stay much longer.”
”Do you see this sledge-hammer?” said Bill; ”I wish, in the first place, that whoever takes it up in their hands may never be able to lay it down till I give them lave; and that whoever begins to sledge with it may never stop sledging till it's my pleasure to release him.”
”Secondly--I have an arm-chair, and I wish that whoever sits down in it may never rise out of it till they have my consent.”
”And, thirdly--that whatever money I put into my purse, n.o.body may have power to take it out of it but myself!”
”You devil's rip!” says the old man in a pa.s.sion, shaking his staff across Bill's nose, ”why did you not ask something that would sarve you both here and hereafter? Sure it's as common as the market-cross, that there's not a vagabone in his Majesty's dominions stands more in need of both.”
”Oh! by the elevens,” said Bill, ”I forgot that altogether! Maybe you'd be civil enough to let me change one of them? The sorra purtier wish ever was made than I'll make, if you'll give me another chance.”
”Get out, you reprobate,” said the old fellow, still in a pa.s.sion.
”Your day of grace is past. Little you knew who was speaking to you all this time. I'm St. Moroky, you blackguard, and I gave you an opportunity of doing something for yourself and your family; but you neglected it, and now your fate is cast, you dirty, bog-trotting profligate. Sure, it's well known what you are! Aren't you a by-word in everybody's mouth, you and your scold of a wife? By this and by that, if ever you happen to come across me again, I'll send you to where you won't freeze, you villain!”
He then gave Bill a rap of his cudgel over the head, and laid him at his length beside the bellows, kicked a broken coal-scuttle out of his way, and left the forge in a fury.