Section 36 of 74 - Table of Contents
--ADIUTORIUM NOSTRUM IN NOMINE DOMINI.
--QUI FECIT COELUM ET TERRAM.
--DOMINUS VOBISCUM.
--ET CUM SPIRITU TUO.
And he laid his hands upon that he blessed and gave thanks and he
prayed and they all with him prayed:
--DEUS, CUIUS VERBO SANCTIFICANTUR OMNIA, BENEDICTIONEM TUAM EFFUNDE SUPER
CREATURAS ISTAS: ET PRAESTA UT QUISQUIS EIS SECUNDUM LEGEM ET VOLUNTATEM
TUAM CUM GRATIARUM ACTIONE USUS FUERIT PER INVOCATIONEM SANCTISSIMI
NOMINIS TUI CORPORIS SANITATEM ET ANIMAE TUTELAM TE AUCTORE PERCIPIAT PER
CHRISTUM DOMINUM NOSTRUM.
--And so say all of us, says Jack.
--Thousand a year, Lambert, says Crofton or Crawford.
--Right, says Ned, taking up his John Jameson. And butter for fish.
I was just looking around to see who the happy thought would strike
when be damned but in he comes again letting on to be in a hell of a
hurry.
--I was just round at the courthouse, says he, looking for you. I hope I'm
not ...
--No, says Martin, we're ready.
Courthouse my eye and your pockets hanging down with gold and silver.
Mean bloody scut. Stand us a drink itself. Devil a sweet fear! There's
a jew for you! All for number one. Cute as a shithouse rat. Hundred to
five.
--Don't tell anyone, says the citizen,
--Beg your pardon, says he.
--Come on boys, says Martin, seeing it was looking blue. Come along now.
--Don't tell anyone, says the citizen, letting a bawl out of him. It's a
secret.
And the bloody dog woke up and let a growl.
--Bye bye all, says Martin.
And he got them out as quick as he could, Jack Power and Crofton or
whatever you call him and him in the middle of them letting on to be all
at sea and up with them on the bloody jaunting car.
---Off with you, says
Martin to the jarvey.
The milkwhite dolphin tossed his mane and, rising in the golden poop
the helmsman spread the bellying sail upon the wind and stood off forward
with all sail set, the spinnaker to larboard. A many comely nymphs drew
nigh to starboard and to larboard and, clinging to the sides of the noble
bark, they linked their shining forms as doth the cunning wheelwright when
he fashions about the heart of his wheel the equidistant rays whereof each
one is sister to another and he binds them all with an outer ring and
giveth speed to the feet of men whenas they ride to a hosting or contend
for the smile of ladies fair. Even so did they come and set them, those
willing nymphs, the undying sisters. And they laughed, sporting in a
circle of their foam: and the bark clave the waves.
But begob I was just lowering the heel of the pint when I saw the
citizen getting up to waddle to the door, puffing and blowing with the
dropsy, and he cursing the curse of Cromwell on him, bell, book and candle
in Irish, spitting and spatting out of him and Joe and little Alf round
him like a leprechaun trying to peacify him.
--Let me alone, says he.
And begob he got as far as the door and they holding him and he
bawls out of him:
--Three cheers for Israel!
Arrah, sit down on the parliamentary side of your arse for Christ'
sake and don't be making a public exhibition of yourself. Jesus, there's
always some bloody clown or other kicking up a bloody murder about
bloody nothing. Gob, it'd turn the porter sour in your guts, so it would.
And all the ragamuffins and sluts of the nation round the door and Martin
telling the jarvey to drive ahead and the citizen bawling and Alf and
Joe at him to whisht and he on his high horse about the jews and the
loafers calling for a speech and Jack Power trying to get him to sit down
on the car and hold his bloody jaw and a loafer with a patch over his eye
starts singing IF THE MAN IN THE MOON WAS A JEW, JEW, JEW and a slut
shouts out of her:
--Eh, mister! Your fly is open, mister!
And says he:
--Mendelssohn was a jew and Karl Marx and Mercadante and Spinoza.
And the Saviour was a jew and his father was a jew. Your God.
--He had no father, says Martin. That'll do now. Drive ahead.
--Whose God? says the citizen.
--Well, his uncle was a jew, says he. Your God was a jew. Christ was a jew
like me.
Gob, the citizen made a plunge back into the shop.
--By Jesus, says he, I'll brain that bloody jewman for using the holy
name.
By Jesus, I'll crucify him so I will. Give us that biscuitbox here.
--Stop! Stop! says Joe.
A large and appreciative gathering of friends and acquaintances from
the metropolis and greater Dublin assembled in their thousands to bid
farewell to Nagyasagos uram Lipoti Virag, late of Messrs Alexander
Thom's, printers to His Majesty, on the occasion of his departure for the
distant clime of Szazharminczbrojugulyas-Dugulas (Meadow of
Murmuring Waters). The ceremony which went off with great ECLAT was
characterised by the most affecting cordiality. An illuminated scroll of
ancient Irish vellum, the work of Irish artists, was presented to the
distinguished phenomenologist on behalf of a large section of the
community and was accompanied by the gift of a silver casket, tastefully
executed in the style of ancient Celtic ornament, a work which reflects
every credit on the makers, Messrs Jacob AGUS Jacob. The departing guest
was the recipient of a hearty ovation, many of those who were present
being visibly moved when the select orchestra of Irish pipes struck up the
wellknown strains of COME BACK TO ERIN, followed immediately by RAKOCZSY'S
MARCH. Tarbarrels and bonfires were lighted along the coastline of the four
seas on the summits of the Hill of Howth, Three Rock Mountain, Sugarloaf,
Bray Head, the mountains of Mourne, the Galtees, the Ox and Donegal and
Sperrin peaks, the Nagles and the Bograghs, the Connemara hills, the reeks
of M Gillicuddy, Slieve Aughty, Slieve Bernagh and Slieve Bloom. Amid
cheers that rent the welkin, responded to by answering cheers from a big
muster of henchmen on the distant Cambrian and Caledonian hills, the
mastodontic pleasureship slowly moved away saluted by a final floral
tribute from the representatives of the fair sex who were present in large
numbers while, as it proceeded down the river, escorted by a flotilla of
barges, the flags of the Ballast office and Custom House were dipped in
salute as were also those of the electrical power station at the
Pigeonhouse and the Poolbeg Light. VISSZONTLATASRA, KEDVES BARATON!
VISSZONTLATASRA! Gone but not forgotten.
Gob, the devil wouldn't stop him till he got hold of the bloody tin
anyhow and out with him and little Alf hanging on to his elbow and he
shouting like a stuck pig, as good as any bloody play in the Queen's royal
theatre:
--Where is he till I murder him?
And Ned and J. J. paralysed with the laughing.
--Bloody wars, says I, I'll be in for the last gospel.
But as luck would have it the jarvey got the nag's head round the
other way and off with him.
--Hold on, citizen, says Joe. Stop!
Begob he drew his hand and made a swipe and let fly. Mercy of God the sun
was in his eyes or he'd have left him for dead. Gob, he near sent it
into the county Longford. The bloody nag took fright and the old mongrel
after the car like bloody hell and all the populace shouting and laughing
and the old tinbox clattering along the street.
The catastrophe was terrific and instantaneous in its effect. The
observatory of Dunsink registered in all eleven shocks, all of the fifth
grade of Mercalli's scale, and there is no record extant of a similar
seismic disturbance in our island since the earthquake of 1534, the
year of the rebellion of Silken Thomas. The epicentre appears to have
been that part of the metropolis which constitutes the Inn's Quay
ward and parish of Saint Michan covering a surface of fortyone acres,
two roods and one square pole or perch. All the lordly residences in
the vicinity of the palace of justice were demolished and that noble
edifice itself, in which at the time of the catastrophe important
legal debates were in progress, is literally a mass of ruins beneath
which it is to be feared all the occupants have been buried alive.
From the reports of eyewitnesses it transpires that the seismic waves
were accompanied by a violent atmospheric perturbation of cyclonic
character. An article of headgear since ascertained to belong to the much
respected clerk of the crown and peace Mr George Fottrell and a silk
umbrella with gold handle with the engraved initials, crest, coat of arms
and house number of the erudite and worshipful chairman of quarter
sessions sir Frederick Falkiner, recorder of Dublin, have been discovered
by search parties in remote parts of the island respectively, the former
on the third basaltic ridge of the giant's causeway, the latter embedded
to the extent of one foot three inches in the sandy beach of Holeopen
bay near the old head of Kinsale. Other eyewitnesses depose that they
observed an incandescent object of enormous proportions hurtling through
the atmosphere at a terrifying velocity in a trajectory directed
southwest by west. Messages of condolence and sympathy are being
hourly received from all parts of the different continents and the
sovereign pontiff has been graciously pleased to decree that a
special MISSA PRO DEFUNCTIS shall be celebrated simultaneously by
the ordinaries of each and every cathedral church of all the episcopal
dioceses subject to the spiritual authority of the Holy See in suffrage of
the souls of those faithful departed who have been so unexpectedly called
away from our midst. The work of salvage, removal of DEBRIS, human remains
etc has been entrusted to Messrs Michael Meade and Son, 159 Great
Brunswick street, and Messrs T. and C. Martin, 77, 78, 79 and 80 North
Wall, assisted by the men and officers of the Duke of Cornwall's light
infantry under the general supervision of H. R. H., rear admiral, the
right honourable sir Hercules Hannibal Habeas Corpus Anderson, K. G.,
K. P., K. T., P. C., K. C. B., M. P, J. P., M. B., D. S. O., S. O. D.,
M. F. H., M. R. I. A., B. L., Mus. Doc., P. L. G., F. T. C. D.,
F. R. U. I., F. R. C. P. I. and F. R. C. S. I.
You never saw the like of it in all your born puff. Gob, if he got that
lottery ticket on the side of his poll he'd remember the gold cup,
he would so, but begob the citizen would have been lagged for assault
and battery and Joe for aiding and abetting. The jarvey saved his life
by furious driving as sure as God made Moses. What? O, Jesus, he did.
And he let a volley of oaths after him.
--Did I kill him, says he, or what?
And he shouting to the bloody dog:
--After him, Garry! After him, boy!
And the last we saw was the bloody car rounding the corner and old
sheepsface on it gesticulating and the bloody mongrel after it with his
lugs back for all he was bloody well worth to tear him limb from limb.
Hundred to five! Jesus, he took the value of it out of him, I promise you.
When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they
beheld the chariot wherein He stood ascend to heaven. And they beheld
Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having
raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they
durst not look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling:
ELIJAH! ELIJAH! And He answered with a main cry: ABBA! ADONAI! And they
beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend
to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over
Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.
* * * * * * *
The summer evening had begun to fold the world in its mysterious
embrace. Far away in the west the sun was setting and the last glow of all
too fleeting day lingered lovingly on sea and strand, on the proud
promontory of dear old Howth guarding as ever the waters of the bay, on
the weedgrown rocks along Sandymount shore and, last but not least, on the
quiet church whence there streamed forth at times upon the stillness the
voice of prayer to her who is in her pure radiance a beacon ever to the
stormtossed heart of man, Mary, star of the sea.
The three girl friends were seated on the rocks, enjoying the evening
scene and the air which was fresh but not too chilly. Many a time and oft
were they wont to come there to that favourite nook to have a cosy chat
beside the sparkling waves and discuss matters feminine, Cissy Caffrey and
Edy Boardman with the baby in the pushcar and Tommy and Jacky
Caffrey, two little curlyheaded boys, dressed in sailor suits with caps to
match and the name H.M.S. Belleisle printed on both. For Tommy and
Jacky Caffrey were twins, scarce four years old and very noisy and spoiled
twins sometimes but for all that darling little fellows with bright merry
faces and endearing ways about them. They were dabbling in the sand with
their spades and buckets, building castles as children do, or playing with
their big coloured ball, happy as the day was long. And Edy Boardman was
rocking the chubby baby to and fro in the pushcar while that young
gentleman fairly chuckled with delight. He was but eleven months and nine
days old and, though still a tiny toddler, was just beginning to lisp his
first babyish words. Cissy Caffrey bent over to him to tease his fat
little plucks and the dainty dimple in his chin.
--Now, baby, Cissy Caffrey said. Say out big, big. I want a drink of
water.
And baby prattled after her:
--A jink a jink a jawbo.
Cissy Caffrey cuddled the wee chap for she was awfully fond of children,
so patient with little sufferers and Tommy Caffrey could never be got to
take his castor oil unless it was Cissy Caffrey that held his nose and
promised him the scatty heel of the loaf or brown bread with golden syrup
on. What a persuasive power that girl had! But to be sure baby Boardman
was as good as gold, a perfect little dote in his new fancy bib. None of
your spoilt beauties, Flora MacFlimsy sort, was Cissy Caffrey.
A truerhearted lass never drew the breath of life, always with a laugh in
her gipsylike eyes and a frolicsome word on her cherryripe red lips, a
girl lovable in the extreme. And Edy Boardman laughed too at the quaint
language of little brother.
But just then there was a slight altercation between Master Tommy
and Master Jacky. Boys will be boys and our two twins were no exception
to this golden rule. The apple of discord was a certain castle of sand
which Master Jacky had built and Master Tommy would have it right go wrong
that it was to be architecturally improved by a frontdoor like the
Martello tower had. But if Master Tommy was headstrong Master Jacky was
selfwilled too and, true to the maxim that every little Irishman's house
is his castle, he fell upon his hated rival and to such purpose that the
wouldbe assailant came to grief and (alas to relate!) the coveted castle
too. Needless to say the cries of discomfited Master Tommy drew the
attention of the girl friends.
--Come here, Tommy, his sister called imperatively. At once! And you,
Jacky, for shame to throw poor Tommy in the dirty sand. Wait till I catch
you for that.
His eyes misty with unshed tears Master Tommy came at her call for
their big sister's word was law with the twins. And in a sad plight he was
too after his misadventure. His little man-o'-war top and unmentionables
were full of sand but Cissy was a past mistress in the art of smoothing
over life's tiny troubles and very quickly not one speck of sand was
to be seen on his smart little suit. Still the blue eyes were glistening
with hot tears that would well up so she kissed away the hurtness and
shook her hand at Master Jacky the culprit and said if she was near
him she wouldn't be far from him, her eyes dancing in admonition.
--Nasty bold Jacky! she cried.
She put an arm round the little mariner and coaxed winningly:
--What's your name? Butter and cream?
--Tell us who is your sweetheart, spoke Edy Boardman. Is Cissy your
sweetheart?
--Nao, tearful Tommy said.
--Is Edy Boardman your sweetheart? Cissy queried.
--Nao, Tommy said.
--I know, Edy Boardman said none too amiably with an arch glance from
her shortsighted eyes. I know who is Tommy's sweetheart. Gerty is
Tommy's sweetheart.
--Nao, Tommy said on the verge of tears.
Cissy's quick motherwit guessed what was amiss and she whispered
to Edy Boardman to take him there behind the pushcar where the
gentleman couldn't see and to mind he didn't wet his new tan shoes.
But who was Gerty?
Gerty MacDowell who was seated near her companions, lost in
thought, gazing far away into the distance was, in very truth, as fair a
specimen of winsome Irish girlhood as one could wish to see. She was
pronounced beautiful by all who knew her though, as folks often said, she
was more a Giltrap than a MacDowell. Her figure was slight and graceful,
inclining even to fragility but those iron jelloids she had been taking of
late had done her a world of good much better than the Widow Welch's
female pills and she was much better of those discharges she used to get
and that tired feeling. The waxen pallor of her face was almost spiritual
in its ivorylike purity though her rosebud mouth was a genuine Cupid's
bow, Greekly perfect. Her hands were of finely veined alabaster
with tapering fingers and as white as lemonjuice and queen of ointments
could make them though it was not true that she used to wear kid gloves
in bed or take a milk footbath either. Bertha Supple told that once
to Edy Boardman, a deliberate lie, when she was black out at daggers
drawn with Gerty (the girl chums had of course their little tiffs
from time to time like the rest of mortals) and she told her not to
let on whatever she did that it was her that told her or she'd never
speak to her again. No. Honour where honour is due. There was an
innate refinement, a languid queenly HAUTEUR about Gerty which
was unmistakably evidenced in her delicate hands and higharched instep.
Had kind fate but willed her to be born a gentlewoman of high degree in
her own right and had she only received the benefit of a good education
Gerty MacDowell might easily have held her own beside any lady in the
land and have seen herself exquisitely gowned with jewels on her brow and
patrician suitors at her feet vying with one another to pay their devoirs
to her. Mayhap it was this, the love that might have been, that lent to
her softlyfeatured face at whiles a look, tense with suppressed meaning,
that imparted a strange yearning tendency to the beautiful eyes, a charm
few could resist. Why have women such eyes of witchery? Gerty's were of
the bluest Irish blue, set off by lustrous lashes and dark expressive
brows. Time was when those brows were not so silkily seductive. It was
Madame Vera Verity, directress of the Woman Beautiful page of the Princess
Novelette, who had first advised her to try eyebrowleine which gave that
haunting expression to the eyes, so becoming in leaders of fashion, and
she had never regretted it. Then there was blushing scientifically cured
and how to be tall increase your height and you have a beautiful face but
your nose? That would suit Mrs Dignam because she had a button one. But
Gerty's crowning glory was her wealth of wonderful hair. It was dark brown
with a natural wave in it. She had cut it that very morning on account
of the new moon and it nestled about her pretty head in a profusion of
luxuriant clusters and pared her nails too, Thursday for wealth. And just
now at Edy's words as a telltale flush, delicate as the faintest
rosebloom, crept into her cheeks she looked so lovely in her sweet girlish
shyness that of a surety God's fair land of Ireland did not hold
her equal.
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