WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING
IT'S on my visiting cards sure enough (and it's them that's all o'pink satin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould theintheristhin words, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, 39 SouthamptonRow, Russell Square, Parrish o' Bloomsbury. And shud ye be wantin' todiskiver who is the pink of purliteness quite, and the laider of the hottun in the houl city o' Lonon--why it's jist mesilf. And fait that sameis no wonder at all at all (so be plased to stop curlin your nose), forevery inch o' the six wakes that I've been a gintleman, and left affwid the bogthrothing to take up wid the Barronissy, it's Pathrick that'sbeen living like a houly imperor, and gitting the iddication and thegraces. Och! and wouldn't it be a blessed thing for your spirrits if yecud lay your two peepers jist, upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt,when he is all riddy drissed for the hopperer, or stipping into theBrisky for the drive into the Hyde Park. But it's the illigant bigfiggur that I ave, for the rason o' which all the ladies fall in lovewid me. Isn't it my own swate silf now that'll missure the six fut, andthe three inches more nor that, in me stockins, and that am excadinglywill proportioned all over to match? And it is ralelly more than threefut and a bit that there is, inny how, of the little ould furrenerFrinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's a oggling anda goggling the houl day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purty widdyMisthress Tracle that's my own nixt-door neighbor, (God bliss her!)and a most particuller frind and acquaintance? You percave the littlespalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift hand in asling, and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'm going to giveyou the good rason.
The truth of the houl matter is jist simple enough; for the very firstday that I com'd from Connaught, and showd my swate little silf in thestrait to the widdy, who was looking through the windy, it was agone case althegither with the heart o' the purty Misthress Tracle.I percaved it, ye see, all at once, and no mistake, and that's God'struth. First of all it was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thin shethrew open her two peepers to the itmost, and thin it was a little gouldspy-glass that she clapped tight to one o' them and divil may burn meif it didn't spake to me as plain as a peeper cud spake, and says it,through the spy-glass: Och! the tip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir PathrickO'Grandison, Barronitt, mavourneen; and it's a nate gintleman that yeare, sure enough, and it's mesilf and me forten jist that'll be at yursarvice, dear, inny time o' day at all at all for the asking. And it'snot mesilf ye wud have to be bate in the purliteness; so I made hera bow that wud ha' broken yur heart altegither to behould, and thin Ipulled aff me hat with a flourish, and thin I winked at her hard widboth eyes, as much as to say, True for you, yer a swate little crature,Mrs. Tracle, me darlint, and I wish I may be drownthed dead in a bog,if it's not mesilf, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, that'll make ahoul bushel o' love to yur leddyship, in the twinkling o' the eye of aLondonderry purraty.
And it was the nixt mornin', sure, jist as I was making up me mindwhither it wouldn't be the purlite thing to sind a bit o' writin' to thewiddy by way of a love-litter, when up com'd the delivery servant widan illigant card, and he tould me that the name on it (for I niver couldrade the copperplate printin on account of being lift handed) was allabout Mounseer, the Count, A Goose, Look--aisy, Maiter-di-dauns, andthat the houl of the divilish lingo was the spalpeeny long name of thelittle ould furrener Frinchman as lived over the way.
And jist wid that in cum'd the little willian himself, and then he mademe a broth of a bow, and thin he said he had ounly taken the libertyof doing me the honor of the giving me a call, and thin he went on topalaver at a great rate, and divil the bit did I comprehind what he wudbe afther the tilling me at all at all, excipting and saving that hesaid pully wou, woolly wou, and tould me, among a bushel o' lies, badluck to him, that he was mad for the love o' my widdy Misthress Tracle,and that my widdy Mrs. Tracle had a puncheon for him.
At the hearin' of this, ye may swear, though, I was as mad as agrasshopper, but I remimbered that I was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt, and that it wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger gitthe upper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the matter andkipt dark, and got quite sociable wid the little chap, and afther awhile what did he do but ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, saying hewud give me the feshionable inthroduction to her leddyship.
Is it there ye are? said I thin to mesilf, and it's thrue for you,Pathrick, that ye're the fortunittest mortal in life. We'll soon seenow whither it's your swate silf, or whither it's little MounseerMaiter-di-dauns, that Misthress Tracle is head and ears in the lovewid.
Wid that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door, and ye may well say itwas an illigant place; so it was. There was a carpet all over the floor,and in one corner there was a forty-pinny and a Jew's harp and the divilknows what ilse, and in another corner was a sofy, the beautifullestthing in all natur, and sitting on the sofy, sure enough, there was theswate little angel, Misthress Tracle.
The tip o' the mornin' to ye, says I, Mrs. Tracle, and thin I madesich an illigant obaysance that it wud ha quite althegither bewilderedthe brain o' ye.
Wully woo, pully woo, plump in the mud, says the little furrennerFrinchman, and sure Mrs. Tracle, says he, that he did, isn't thisgintleman here jist his reverence Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt,and isn't he althegither and entirely the most particular frind andacquaintance that I have in the houl world?
And wid that the widdy, she gits up from the sofy, and makes the swatestcurthchy nor iver was seen; and thin down she sits like an angel;and thin, by the powers, it was that little spalpeen MounseerMaiter-di-dauns that plumped his silf right down by the right side ofher. Och hon! I ixpicted the two eyes o' me wud ha cum'd out of my headon the spot, I was so dispirate mad! Howiver, Bait who! says I, afterawhile. Is it there ye are, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns? and so down Iplumped on the lift side of her leddyship, to be aven with the willain.Botheration! it wud ha done your heart good to percave the illigantdouble wink that I gived her jist thin right in the face with both eyes.
But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned to suspict me at allat all, and disperate hard it was he made the love to her leddyship.Woully wou, says he, Pully wou, says he, Plump in the mud, says he.
That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen, thinks I; and Italked as hard and as fast as I could all the while, and throth it wasmesilf jist that divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, byrason of the illigant conversation that I kipt up wid her all about thedear bogs of Connaught. And by and by she gived me such a swate smile,from one ind of her mouth to the ither, that it made me as bould as apig, and I jist took hould of the ind of her little finger in the mostdillikitest manner in natur, looking at her all the while out o' thewhites of my eyes.
And then ounly percave the cuteness of the swate angel, for no soonerdid she obsarve that I was afther the squazing of her flipper, than sheup wid it in a jiffy, and put it away behind her back, jist as much asto say, Now thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, there's a bitther chancefor ye, mavourneen, for it's not altogether the gentaal thing to beafther the squazing of my flipper right full in the sight of that littlefurrenner Frinchman, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns.
Wid that I giv'd her a big wink jist to say, lit Sir Pathrick alone forthe likes o' them thricks, and thin I wint aisy to work, and you'd havedied wid the divarsion to behould how cliverly I slipped my right armbetwane the back o' the sofy, and the back of her leddyship, and there,sure enough, I found a swate little flipper all a waiting to say, thetip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt. Andwasn't it mesilf, sure, that jist giv'd it the laste little bit of asquaze in the world, all in the way of a commincement, and not to be toorough wid her leddyship? and och, botheration, wasn't it the gentaalestand dilikittest of all the little squazes that I got in return? Bloodand thunder, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen, thinks I to mesilf, fait it'sjist the mother's son of you, and nobody else at all at all, that's thehandsomest and the fortunittest young bog-throtter that ever cum'd outof Connaught! And with that I givd the flipper a big squaze, and a bigsquaze it was, by the powers, that her leddyship giv'd to me back. Butit would ha split the seven sides of you wid the laffin' tobehould, jist then all at once, the consated behavior of MounseerMaiter-di-dauns. The likes o' sich a jabbering, and a smirking, and aparley-wouing as he begin'd wid her leddyship, niver was known beforeupon arth; and divil may burn me if it wasn't me own very two peepersthat cotch'd him tipping her the wink out of one eye. Och, hon! if itwasn't mesilf thin that was mad as a Kilkenny cat I shud like to betould who it was!
Let me infarm you, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns, said I, as purlite asiver ye seed, that it's not the gintaal thing at all at all, and notfor the likes o' you inny how, to be afther the oggling and a gogglingat her leddyship in that fashion, and jist wid that such another squazeas it was I giv'd her flipper, all as much as to say, isn't it SirPathrick now, my jewel, that'll be able to the proticting o' you, mydarlint? and then there cum'd another squaze back, all by way of theanswer. Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick, it said as plain as iver a squazesaid in the world, Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen, and it'sa proper nate gintleman ye are--that's God's truth, and with that sheopened her two beautiful peepers till I belaved they wud ha' cum'd outof her hid althegither and intirely, and she looked first as mad as acat at Mounseer Frog, and thin as smiling as all out o' doors at mesilf.
Thin, says he, the willian, Och hon! and a wolly-wou, pully-wou, andthen wid that he shoved up his two shoulders till the divil the bit ofhis hid was to be diskivered, and then he let down the two corners ofhis purraty-trap, and thin not a haporth more of the satisfaction couldI git out o' the spalpeen.
Belave me, my jewel, it was Sir Pathrick that was unreasonable mad thin,and the more by token that the Frinchman kipt an wid his winking at thewiddy; and the widdy she kept an wid the squazing of my flipper, as muchas to say, At him again, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, mavourneen: so Ijust ripped out wid a big oath, and says I;
Ye little spalpeeny frog of a bog-throtting son of a bloody noun!--andjist thin what d'ye think it was that her leddyship did? Troth shejumped up from the sofy as if she was bit, and made off throughthe door, while I turned my head round afther her, in a complatebewilderment and botheration, and followed her wid me two peepers. Youpercave I had a reason of my own for knowing that she couldn't git downthe stares althegither and intirely; for I knew very well that I hadhould of her hand, for the divil the bit had I iver lit it go. And saysI; Isn't it the laste little bit of a mistake in the world that ye'vebeen afther the making, yer leddyship? Come back now, that's a darlint,and I'll give ye yur flipper. But aff she wint down the stairs like ashot, and thin I turned round to the little Frinch furrenner. Och hon!if it wasn't his spalpeeny little paw that I had hould of in my own--whythin--thin it wasn't--that's all.
And maybe it wasn't mesilf that jist died then outright wid the laffin',to behold the little chap when he found out that it wasn't the widdy atall at all that he had had hould of all the time, but only Sir PathrickO'Grandison. The ould divil himself niver behild sich a long face as hepet an! As for Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, it wasn't forthe likes of his riverence to be afther the minding of a thrifle of amistake. Ye may jist say, though (for it's God's thruth), that afore Ileft hould of the flipper of the spalpeen (which was not till afther herleddyship's futman had kicked us both down the stairs), I giv'd it such anate little broth of a squaze as made it all up into raspberry jam.
Woully wou, says he, pully wou, says he--Cot tam!
And that's jist the thruth of the rason why he wears his lift hand in asling.