The happy contentment which
now beamed in poor Judy's still comely countenance bespoke the
success of the messenger. She could not "call up spirits from the
vasty deep" of the cellar, but she had procured some whiskey from
her next-door neighbour - some five or six miles off, and there it
stood somewhat ostentatiously on the table in a "greybeard," with a
"corn cob," or ear of Indian corn, stripped of its grain, for a
cork, smiling most benevolently on the family circle, and looking
a hundred welcomes to the strangers.
An indescribably enlivening influence seemed to exude from every
pore of that homely earthen vessel, diffusing mirth and good-humour
in all directions. The old man jumped and danced about on the rough
floor of the "shanty"; and the children sat giggling and nudging
each other in a corner, casting a timid look, from time to time, at
their mother, for fear she might check them for being "over bould."
"Is it crazy ye are intirely, ye ould omadhawn!" said Judy, whose
notions of propriety were somewhat shocked with the undignified
levity of her partner; "the likes of you I never seed; ye are too
foolidge intirely. Have done now wid your diviltries, and set the
stools for the gintlemens, while I get the supper for yes."
Our plentiful though homely meal was soon discussed, for hunger,
like a good conscience, can laugh at luxury; and the "greybeard"
made its appearance, with the usual accompaniments of hot water
and maple sugar, which Judy had scraped from the cake, and placed
in a saucer on the table before us.
The "ould dhragoon," despising his wife's admonitions, gave way
freely to his feelings, and knew no bounds to his hilarity. He
laughed and joked, and sang snatches of old songs picked up in
the course of his service at home and abroad. At length Judy,
who looked on him as a "raal janius," begged him to "sing the
gintlemens the song he made when he first came to the counthry."
Of course we ardently seconded the motion, and nothing loth, the
old man, throwing himself back on his stool, and stretching out
his long neck, poured forth the following ditty, with which I
shall conclude my hasty sketch of the "ould dhragoon": -
Och! it's here I'm intirely continted,
In the wild woods of swate 'Mericay;
God's blessing on him that invinted
Big ships for our crossing the say!
Here praties grow bigger nor turnips;
And though cruel hard is our work,
In ould Ireland we'd nothing but praties,
But here we have praties and pork.
