The dinner passed off tolerably well; some of the lower order of the
Irish settlers were pretty far gone, but they committed no outrage
upon our feelings by either swearing or bad language, a few harmless
jokes alone circulating among them.
Some one was funning Old Wittalls for having eaten seven large
cabbages at Mr. T - -'s bee, a few days previous. His son, Sol,
thought himself, as in duty bound, to take up the cudgel for his
father.
"Now, I guess that's a lie, anyhow. Fayther was sick that day,
and I tell you he only ate five."
This announcement was followed by such an explosion of mirth that
the boy looked fiercely round him, as if he could scarcely believe
the fact that the whole party were laughing at him.
Malachi Chroak, who was good-naturedly drunk, had discovered an old
pair of cracked bellows in a corner, which he placed under his arm,
and applying his mouth to the pipe, and working his elbows to and
fro, pretended that he was playing upon the bagpipes, every now and
then letting the wind escape in a shrill squeak from this novel
instrument.
"Arrah, ladies and jintlemen, do jist turn your swate little eyes
upon me whilst I play for your iddifications the last illigant tune
which my owld grandmother taught me. Och hone! 'tis a thousand
pities that such musical owld crathers should be suffered to die, at
all at all, to be poked away into a dirthy, dark hole, when their
canthles shud be burnin' a-top of a bushel, givin' light to the
house. An' then it is she that was the illigant dancer, stepping out
so lively and frisky, just so."
And here he minced to and fro, affecting the airs of a fine lady.
The suppositious bagpipe gave an uncertain, ominous howl, and he
flung it down, and started back with a ludicrous expression of
alarm.
"Alive, is it ye are? Ye croaking owld divil, is that the tune you
taught your son?
"Och! my old granny taught me, but now she is dead,
That a dhrop of nate whiskey is good for the head;
It would make a man spake when jist ready to dhie,
If you doubt it - my boys! - I'd advise you to thry.
"Och! my owld granny sleeps with her head on a stone, -
'Now, Malach, don't throuble the galls when I'm gone!'
I thried to obey her; but, och, I am shure,
There's no sorrow on earth that the angels can't cure.
"Och! I took her advice - I'm a bachelor still;
And I dance, and I play, with such excellent skill,
(Taking up the bellows, and beginning to dance.)
That the dear little crathurs are striving in vain
Which furst shall my hand or my fortin' obtain."
"Malach!" shouted a laughing group.
