V. F. M. to E. Œ. S. (Ross.)
“I had a long walk on Thursday in search of turf, to burn with logs. A sunset, that was boiling up orange steam on to grey clouds, kept turning me round all the way to Esker. At the turn to Pribaun I heard a frightful ruction going on. Two men in a cart using awful language at the tops of their voices, and Pat Lydon, on the fence, giving it back to them, asserting with unnecessary invocations, that there was nothing he hated like ‘thim liars.’ The men drove on as I came up, still chewing the last mouthful of curses as they passed, and Pat came forward with his hat off and the sweetest smile.
“‘What was all that about?’ said I.
“‘Oh, thim was just tellin’ me the price o’ pigs in Ochtherard yesterday.’ (This in a tone of the barest interest.) ‘And how’s Mama? Divil a one in the counthry’s gettin’ fat, only Mama!’ This was, of course, the highest compliment, and I recognised that I was expected to enquire no more into the matter of the price of pigs. He then advised me to go to Jimmy X. (the song-maker) for turf, and I found him at Esker, dreamily contemplating an immense and haggard-looking sow, on whom, no doubt, he was composing a sonnet. He assured me that he would sell Mama a rick of turf. I asked how much was in the rick.
“‘Well, indeed Miss, of that matter I am quite ignorant, but Jimmy Darcy can value it—(stand in off the road for fear anyone would hear us!)’ (Then in a decorous whisper) ‘But him and me is not very great since he summonsed me little girl for pullin’ grass in the Wood of Annagh——’
“There followed much more, in a small and deprecating voice, which, when told to Jim Darcy, he laughed to scorn.
“‘There’s not a basket, no, nor a sod he doesn’t know that’s in that rick!’
“The end of it was that the two Jimmys wrangled down in the Bog of Pullagh the greater part of the next day, and nothing more than that has been accomplished.
“Poor old Kitty has been in trouble. I have not time now to give you the particulars, but will only note her account of the singular effects of remorse upon her, as unfolded to me by her, subsequent to the interview between her and her accuser and Katie.
“‘Faith the hair is dhroppin’ out o’ me head, and the skin rollin’ off the soles o’ me feet, with the frettin’. Whin I heard what Mrs. Currey said, I went back to that woman above, an’ she in her bed. I dhragged her from the bed,’ (sob) ‘an’ she shweatin,’ (sob) ‘an’ I brought her down to Mrs. Currey at the Big House——’