Mount Orsaro.
My dear Shusan,—It's five months and two days since I wrote to you last, and it 's like five years in regard to the way time has worn and distressed me. The mistress tould Mrs. Gallagher how I was deserted by that deceatfull blaguard, taking off with him my peace of mind, two petticoats, and a blue cloth cloak, that I thought would last me for life! so that I need n't go over my miseries again to yourself. We heard since that he had another wife in Switzerland, not to say two more wandering about, so that the master says, if we ever meet him, we can hang him for "bigotry." And, to tell you the truth, Shusy, I feel as if it would be a great relief to me to do it! if it was only to save other craytures from the same feat that he did to your poor friend Betty Cobb; besides that, until something of the kind is done, I can't enter the holy state again with any other deceaver.
Such a life as we 're leadin', Shusy, at one minute all eatin' and drinkin' and caressin' from morning till night; at another, my dear, it's all fastin' and mortification, for the mistress has no moderation at all; but, as the master says, she 's always in her extremities! If ye seen the dress of her last week, she was Satan from head to foot, and now she 's, by way of a saint, in white Cashmar, with a little scurge at her waist, and hard pegs in her shoes!
We have nothin' to eat but roots, like the beasts of the field; and them, too, mostly raw! That's to make us good soldiers of the Church, Father James says; but in my heart and soul, Shusy, I 'm sick of the regiment. Shure, when we 've a station in Ireland, it only lasts a day or two at most; and if your knees is sore with the pennance, shure you have the satisfaction of the pleasant evenings after; with, maybe, a dance, or, at all events, tellin' stories over a jug of punch; but here it's prayers and stripes, stripes and offices, starvation and more stripes, till, savin' your presence, I never sit down without a screech!
Why we came here I don't know; the mistress says it was to cure the master; but did n't I hear her tell him a thousand times that the bad drop was in him, and he 'd never be better to his dyin' day? so that it can't be for that. Sometimes I think it's to get Mary Anne married, and they want Saint Agatha to help them; but faith, Shusy, one sinner is worth two saints for the like of that. Lord George tould me in confidence—the other day it was—that the mistress wanted an increase to her family. Faith, you may well open your eyes, my dear, but them 's his words! And tho' I did n't believe him at first, I 'm more persuaded of it now, that I see how she's goin' on.
If the master only suspected it, he 'd be off to-morrow, for he 's always groanin' and moanin' over the expense of the family; and, between you and me, I believe I ought to go and tell him. Maybe you 'd give me advice what to do, for it's a nice point.
You would n't know Paddy Byrne, how much he's grown, and the wonderful whiskers he has all over his face; but he 's as bowld as brass, and has the impedince of the divil in him. He never ceases tormentin' me about Taddy, and says I ought to take out a few florins in curses on him, just as if I could n't do it cheaper myself than payin' a priest for it As for Paddy himself,—do what the mistress will,—she can get no good of him, in regard to his duties. He does all his stations on his knees, to be sure, but with a cigar in his mouth; and when he comes to the holy well, it's a pull at a dram bottle he takes instead of the blessed water. I wondered myself at his givin' a crown-piece to the Virgin on Tuesday last, but he soon showed me what he was at by say in', "If she does n't get my wages riz for that, the divil receave the f arthin' she 'll ever receave of mine again!"
After all, Shusy, it 's an elegant sight to see all them great people that thinks so much of themselves, crawling about on their hands and knees, kissin' a relict here, huggin' a stone there, just as much frightened about the way the saint looks at them as one of us! It does one's heart good to know that, for all their fine livin' and fine clothes, ould Nick has the same hould of them that he has of you and me!
I had a great deal to tell you about the family and their goin's on, but I must conclude in haste, for tho' it's only five o'clock, there's the bell ringing for martins, and I have a station to take before first mass. I suppose it's part of my mortifications, but the mistress and Mary Anne never gives me a stitch of clothes till they're spoiled; and I'm drivin to my wits' end, tearin' and destroyin' things in such a way as not to ruin them when they come to me! Miss Caroline never has a gown much better than my own; and, indeed, she said the other day, "When I want to be smart, Betty, you must lend me your black bombaseen."
There's the mistress gone out already, so no more from
Your sincear friend,
Betty Cobb.
I think Lord G. is right about the mistress. The saints forgive her, at her time of life! More in my next.