Throth, the same Mr. Hickman is--but, God forbid, sir, I'd spake a word against the absent; but any way, he's a good round thrifle, one way or the other, out of your pocket, from Jinny-warry to December."
"Darby, my good man, and most impertinent scoundrel, if you wish to retain your present situation, never open your lips against that excellent gentleman, Mr. Hickman. Mark my words--out you go, if I ever discover that you mention him with disrespect."
"Well, I won't then; and God forgive me for spakin' the truth--when it's not right."
"Did you see the Mulhollands?"
"Mr. Hickman again, sir, an' bad luck to---- Beg pardon, sir, I forgot.
Throth, sir, when I mentioned the duty work an' the new aveny, they whistled at you."
"Whistled at me!"
"Yes, sir; an' said that Mr. Hickman tould them to give you neither duty fowl nor duty work, but to do their own business, and let you do yours.
Ay, and 'twas the same from all the rest."
"Well," said Val, going to the window and looking abroad for a minute or two,--"well--so much for Ballymackscud; now for its next neighbor, Ballymackfud."
"Mr. Hickman again, sir. The divil sweep the same Hickman, any way,"
said Darby, in an aside, which he knew the other could easily hear. "Out of the whole townland, sir, all I got was two men for the aveny--a goose from Barney Scadden, and her last ten, along wid half-a-dozen eggs, from that dacent creature, widow M'Murt. Throth four fine little clildre she has, if they had anything on them, or anything to keep body and sowl together."
"You warned them all, of course?"
"Every sowl in the townland of Ballymackt 'ud; and there's the upshot.
But it's all Mr. Hickman, sir; for he tould them--'I will have none of this work,' says he; 'the tenants musn't be harrished and fleeshed in this manner,' says he. Yes, your honor, that's the upshot from Ballymackfud--two day's work--a sick goose (for I disremembered to mention that Barney said, wid a wink, that she'd require great attintion, as she was in a delicate state of health)--one ould hen, and a half-a-dozen eggs; which wouldn't be the case, only for Hickman--not but he's a very respectable gentleman--by all accounts."
"I told you before, sirra, that I will have nothing offensive to him mentioned in my presence. Give this letter to Mr. M'Slime, and bring me an answer as soon as you can. Will you have a glass of spirits?"
"Would it be intherfairin' wid my duty, sir?"
"If you think so, don't take it; you ought to know best."
"Well, then, for this one time, in regard of a _Lhin-roe_* or the red wather in my stomach, I'll try it. I drank bog-bine last night goin' to bed, but divil a morsel o' good it did me."
* Lhin-roe, or red water--the Irish name for heart-burn.
M'Clutchy handed him a full glass, which he held steadily before his eye, till the other put up the decanter.
"Your honor's health, sir," said he, "and fireside; and if you war to throw me out o' fifty windies, I'll add to that--here's wishin' that the divil had his own, and I know where you'd soon be."
"How, you villainous scoundrel," said Val, starting with rising wrath, "what do you mean by that?"
Darby made no reply, but hastily tossing off the glass, he seized his hat, bolted outside the door, and putting in his head, said in a kind of loud but confidential whisper--
"IN HICKMAN'S PLACE, your honor!"
CHAPTER III.--Solomon M'Slime, a Religious Attorney
--Solomon M'Slime, a Religious Attorney--His Office--Family Devotions--Substitute for Breakfast--Misprision Blasphemy--Letter on Business.
Pass we now to another worthy character, who had locality upon the aforesaid property of Castle Cumber. Solomon M'Slime, the law agent, was a satisfactory proof of the ease with which religion and law may meet and aid each other in the heart and spirit of the same person. An attorney, no doubt, is at all times an amiable, honest, and feeling individual, simply upon professional principles; but when to all this is added the benignant influence of serious and decided piety, it would not be an easy task to find, among the several classes which compose society in general, anything so truly engaging, so morally taintless, so sweetly sanctimonious, so seductively comely, as is that pure and evengelical exhibition of human character, that is found to be developed in a religious attorney.
Solomon M'Slime was a man in whose heart the two principles kept their constant residence; indeed so beautifully were they blended, that his law might frequently be mistaken for religion, just as his religion, on the other hand, was often known to smack strongly of law. In this excellent man, these principles accommodated each with a benignant indulgence, that manifested the beauty of holiness in a high degree.
If, for instance, law in its progress presented to him any obstacle of doubtful morality, religion came forward with a sweet but serious smile, and said to her companion, "My dear friend, or sister, in this case I permit you." And on the contrary, if religion felt over sensitive or scrupulous, law had fifty arguments of safety, and precedent, and high authority to justify her. But, indeed, we may observe, that in a religious attorney these illiberal scruples do not often occur.
Mr. M'Slime knew the advantages of religion too well, to feel that contraction of the mind and principles, which in so many ordinary cases occasions religion and common morality to become almost identical.
Religion was to him a friend--a patroness in whose graces he stood so high, that she permitted him to do many things which those who were more estranged from her durst not attempt. He enjoyed that state of blessed freedom which is accorded to so few, and, consequently, had his "permissions" and his "privileges" to go in the wicked wayfares of this trying world much greater lengths than those, who were less gifted and favored by the sweet and consoling principle which regulated and beautified his life.
Solomon was a small man, thin, sharp-featured, and solemn. He was deliberate in his manner and movements, and correct but slow of speech.
Though solemn, however, he was not at all severe or querulous, as is too frequently the case with those who affect to be religious. Far from it.
On the contrary, in him the gospel gifts appeared in a cheerful gravity of disposition, and a good-humored lubricity of temper, that could turn with equal flexibility and suavity to every incident of life, no matter how trying to the erring heart. All the hinges of his spirit seemed to have been graciously and abundantly oiled, and such was his serenity, that it was quite evident he had a light within him. It was truly a pleasure to speak to, or transact business with such a man; he seemed always so full of inward peace, and comfort, and happiness. Nay, upon some occasions, he could rise to a kind of sanctified facetiousness that was perfectly delightful, and in the very singleness of his heart, would, of an odd time, let out, easily and gently it is true, a small joke, that savored a good deal of secular humor.
Then he was so full of charity and affection for all that were frail and erring among our kind, that he never, or seldom, breathed a harsh word against the offender. Or if, in the fulness of his benevolence, he found it necessary to enumerate their faults, and place them, as it were, in a catalogue, it was done in a spirit of such love, mingled with sorrow, that those to whom he addressed himself, often thought it a pity that he himself did not honor religion, by becoming the offender, simply for the sake of afterwards becoming the patient.
In the religious world he was a very active and prominent man--punctual in his devotional exercises, and always on the lookout for some of those unfortunate brands with which society abounds, that he might, as he termed it, have the pleasure of plucking them out of the burning. He never went without a Bible and a variety of tracts in his pocket, and seldom was missed from the platform of a religious meeting. He received subscriptions for all public and private charities, and has repeatedly been known to offer and afford consolation to the widow and orphan, at a time when the pressure of business rendered the act truly one of Christian interest and affection.
The hour was not more than ten o'clock, a.m. when Darby entered his office, in which, by the way, lay three or four Bibles, in different places. In a recess on one side of the chimney-piece, stood a glass-covered bookcase, filled with the usual works on his profession, whilst hung upon the walls, and consequently nearer observation, were two or three pensile shelves, on which were to be found a small collection of religious volumes, tracts, and other productions, all bearing on the same subject. On the desk was a well-thumbed Bible to the right, which was that used at family prayer; and on the opposite side, a religious almanack and a copy of congregation hymns.
Darby, on reaching the hall door, knocked with considerable more decision than he had done at M'Clutchy's, but without appearing to have made himself heard; after waiting patiently for some time, however, he knocked again, and at length the door was opened by a very pretty servant girl, about seventeen, who, upon his inquiring if her master was at home, replied in a sighing voice, and with a demure face, "Oh, yes--at family prayer."
"When he's done," said Darby, "maybe you'd be kind enough to say that Darby O'Drive has a message for him."
The pretty servant did not nod--an act--which she considered as too flippant for the solemnity of devotion--but she gently bowed her head, and closed her eyes in assent--upon which was heard a somewhat cheerful groan, replete with true unction, inside the parlor, followed by a voice that said, "ah, Susannah!" pronounced in a tone of grave but placid remonstrance; Susannah immediately entered, and the voice, which was that of our attorney, proceeded--"Susannah take your place--long measure, eight lines, four eights, and two sixes." The psalm was then raised or pitched by Solomon himself, who was followed by six or eight others, each in a different key, but all with such reluctance to approach their leader, that from a principle of unworthiness, they allowed him, as the more pious, to get far in advance of them. In this manner they sang two verses, and it was remarkable, that although on coming to the conclusion, Solomon was far ahead, and the rest nowhere, yet, from the same principle of unworthiness, they left the finish, as they did the start, altogether to himself. The psalm was accordingly wound up by a kind of understanding or accompaniment between his mouth and nose, which seemed each moved by a zealous but godly struggle to excel the other, if not in melody at least in loudness. They then all knelt down, and Solomon launched, with a sonorous voice, into an extempore prayer, which was accompanied by a solemn commentary of groanings, sighings, moanings, and muffled ejaculations, that cannot otherwise be described except by saying that they resembled something between a screech and a scream. Their devotions being over, Darby, having delivered M'Clutchy's letter, was desired to take a seat in the office, until Mr. M'Slime should be at leisure to send a reply.
"Sit down, my good friend, Darby, sit down, and be at ease, at least in your body; I do not suffer any one who has an immortal soul to be saved to stand in my office--and as you have one to be saved, Darby, you must sit. The pride of this vain life is our besetting sin, and happy are they who are enabled to overcome it--may he be praised!--sit down."
"I'm thankful to you, sir," said Darby, "oh, thin, Mr. M'Slime, it would be well for the world if every attorney in it was like you, sir--there would be little honesty goin' asthray, sir, if there was."
"Sam Sharpe, my dear boy, if you have not that bill of costs finished--"
"No sir."
"A good boy, Sam--well, do not omit thirteen and four pence for two letters, which I ought to have sent--as a part of my moral, independently of my professional duty--to Widow Lenehan, having explained to her by word of mouth, that which I ought in conscience, to have written--but indeed my conscience often leads me to the--what should I say?--the merciful side in these matters. No, Darby, my friend, you cannot see into my heart, or you would not say so--I am frail, Darby, and sinful--I am not up to the standard, my friend, neither have I acted up to my privileges--the freedom of the gospel! is a blessed thing, provided we abuse it not'--well, Sam, my good young friend--"
"That was entered before, sir, under the head of instructions."
"Very right--apparently very right, Sam, and reasonable for you to think so--but this was on a different occasion, although the same case."
"Oh, I beg pardon, sir, I did not know that."
"Sam, do not beg pardon--not of me--nor of any but One--go there, Sam, you require it; we all require it, at least I do abundantly. Darby, my friend, it is a principle with me never to lose an opportunity of throwing in a word in season--but as the affairs of this life must be attended to--only in a secondary degree, I admit--I will, therefore, place you at the only true fountain where you can be properly refreshed.
Take this Bible, Darby, and it matters not where you open it, read and be filled."
Now, as Darby, in consequence of his early attendance upon M'Clutchy, had been obliged to leave home that morning without his breakfast, it must be admitted that he was not just then in the best possible disposition to draw much edification from it. After poring over it with a very sombre face for some time, he at length looked shrewdly at M'Slime closing one eye a little, as was his custom; "I beg pardon, sir," said he, "but if I'm not mistaken this book I believe is intended more for the sowl than the body."
"For the body! truly, Darby, that last is a carnal thought, and I am sorry to hear, it from your lips:--the Bible is a spiritual book, my friend, and spiritually must it be received."