“But do you know, sir, why he was called Shaun Bernha?”
“No, I can't say I do.”
“It was odd enough, to be sure. Howandever, may I be happy but they say it's true! You see, sir, he was called Shaun Bernha bekaise he never had a tooth in his head; an' no more had any of his family; and yet, sir, it's said, that he could bite a piece out of a plate of sheet iron as aisily as you or I could out a cake of gingerbread.”
“Well, Morgue, all that I can say to that is, that he had devilish hard gums, and stood in no fear of the toothache.”
“Well, then, we'll sweep around the slebeen hills here, keepin' Altnaveenan to our right, and Lough Mocall to our left; then, by going right ahead we'll come to his stables; and indeed they're well worth seein'.”
“With all my heart, Mague, never say it again.” And they accordingly proceeded at a vigorous pace to the mountains, which were now distant not more than a mile and a half from them.
In the meantime we shall leave them to pursue their game, and beg our readers to accompany us once more to the house of our friend, Fitzy O'Driscol, who, what between the dread of assassination on the one hand, and the delight of having a proper subject to justify him in communicating with the government on the other, passed his time in alterations, now of fear, and again of his peculiar ambition to be recognized as an active and fearless magistrate by the then existing powers, that were, to such as knew the man and understood his character, perfectly ludicrous. On the morning in question, he was, as usual, seated, in his morning-gown and slippers, at the breakfast-table, reading a country paper, in which, by the way, appeared the following paragraph:—
“TURBULENT STATE OR THE COUNTRY.—We regret to say, that the state of the country is every day becoming more and more unsettled. A few days ago, whilst one of our excellent and most resolute magistrates, Fitzgerald O'Driscol, Esq., was engaged in his office, determining an important case of assault that came before him, and which he did, as he usually does, to the perfect satisfaction of the parties, he received, a threatening notice, couched in most violent language, in fact, breathing of blood and assassination! Why a gentleman of such high magisterial character as Mr. O'Driscol should have been selected as an object of popular vengeance, we do not understand. Mr. O'Driscol combines in himself all those qualities that are peculiarly suited to the discharge of his duties in such distracted times as the present. Whilst firm and intrepid, almost to a miracle, he is at the same time easy of access, impartial, and kind to his humble countrymen, to whom he has uniformly proved himself mild and indulgent, so far as justice—which by the way, he always tempers with mercy—will allow him; and in consequence of this, he is uniformly known, and deserves to be known, as the poor man's magistrate. It is true, he is known also to be a man of highly loyal and constitutional principles; a warm friend to order, peace, and a resolute supporter of the laws of the land—qualities which are looked upon as crimes by the resolute and disloyal among our kind-hearted but misguided people. Of one thing, however, he would beg to apprise the mistaken individuals who have ventured to threaten him, and that is, to take care how they attempt to put their foolish threats into execution against so daring and desperate a man as Mr. O'Driscol is when provoked. He goes well armed, is a dead shot, and would feel deeply grieved at having the blood of any of his mistaken countrymen on his hands. This we say from what we know of Mr. O'Driscol, both as a man and as a magistrate. In further connection with the state of the country, we cannot think but that government, if made properly acquainted with it, would place some mild, firm, but fearless and resolute stipendiary magistrate in our neighborhood; we mean, of course, a man who is capable, by the peculiar qualities of his character, to make himself an instrument of great public good, both to the people and the government. Such a man we know; but as we are writing without either his knowledge or consent, we do not feel ourselves called upon to pursue this important subject further. All we can say is, that the violent opposition which is now organized against tithes, and which is already beginning to convulse the country, will, and even now does require, the active courage and decided abilities of such a man.”
“Well, now, Catherine,” said he, addressing his daughter, who sat near him, “upon my honor and conscience that was a friendly paragraph of my friend Swiggerly—extremely so, indeed. The fact is, a dinner and a good jorum is never thrown away upon honest Swiggerly; for which raison I'll ask him to dine here on Thursday next.”
He then handed her the paper, pointing out the paragraph in question, which she read with something of an arch smile, and which, on her brother Fergus (who had been to Lisnagola) joining them, she handed to him.