CORRESPONDENCE.
AN IRISH MAIL-CAR DRIVER.
FROM REAL LIFE.
WE travelled lately through a portion of a Southern Irish county, as yet untapped by a railway, on a mail-car. The fare was marvellously low—is. 6d. for a journey of twelve English miles—and if the wit of the car-driver be thrown in, it was ridiculously cheap. Our driver, who was rather a solid, sober-looking " gossoon," did not at first sight promise much amusement. But appearances are deceitful, and Shakespeare himself has told us that " there is no art to find the mind's construction in the face." He warmed up after we had " shoved on a bit," and when he had been stimulated by the remarks of an asylum porter, who proudly said he owed his position to the patronage of two " Lards." " Oh ! if it's Lards ye're for talkin' about," observed the driver, " the nicest Lard I iver met is Lard Mountmellick [we slightly transform the title] ; he's the grandest Lard av the day. He niver smoke anything but a long clay pipe, as long as the crop av me whip [here he suited the action to the word], and he niver smoke anything but the common twist tobaccy. This Lard's .a grate smoker intirely ; he'll ardher a box av these long clays wid thirty in it at a time, an' he'll niver drop smoking wan av thim till he have it coloured as black as me hat." This testimony
to his Lordship seemed incontestable ; but the driver pro- ceeded to improve upon it. " An' he's sich a Lard for sport. ' John,' he'd say to me wan day lately, where do you spind your Sunday P '" (Sunday was a sort of off-day with the driver, and at least a half-holiday.) " At home in Glounagoleen, me Lard,' says I. Well, John,' says be, if ye want to enjoy yourself some Sunday,' says he, bring a couple av dogs wid you,' says be, an' take a day's huntin' in my demesne,' says he. Look at that for ye now ! Look at that for a Lard !" The asylum porter was quite abashed by this recital of such personal friendship and familiarity on the part of a Lard, as his two Lards had only used their influence for him officially, and he retired from the field of conversation in favour of the driver. As we passed an old ruined castle, the latter inquired if we "had iver heerd tell av how the crows failed' the rest av it." As we had not, he proceeded with the narra- tive as follows :—" Well, there was wonst a grand young lady who lived near Ballywire, an' she was very rich intirely, an' she had a grate rookery near her place. Well, be the same token, she was iver an' always goin' to balls an' parties an' operas an' thayaters, and would only be rowlin' home in her carriage at 4 o'clock in the mornin'. An' whin she'd want to go to sleep, the crows wouldn't let her close an eye at all, at all. So she gothered a party of her gintle- man frinds, and they were shootin' at thim same crows, mornin', noon, and night ; but they might as airy have bailed the Shannon wid a tap-spoon, for all the good thdy did. Well, at long an' at last there was an ould pinshioner came the- way, and he med an offer to the lady to do away wid the crows for fifty pound. Done,' says she; for all that I'm afther losin' a dale av money over thim same crows,' says she, fifty pound doesn't matter a traneen to me, wan way or another,' says she. Well, me bould pinshioner, what did he do but off wid him into Limerick, and spint twinty pound av the fifty on bird-lime. An' whin he came back, he plasthered all the trees with the bird-lime, whin the crows was aff on their divarsions in the day-time. Well, home they came agin, shure enough, whin the night was falling, an' wint to roost. And whin they were sound asleep, an' well clung to the trees wid the bird- lime, what does the pinshioner do but walk into the rookery wid a double-barrelled gun. An' whin be fired off a couple av shots, the crows all flapped their wings to fly; but they were so clung to the branches by the bird-lime, they couldn't stir at all, at all. Well, they pulled an' they dragged all as wan, till they pulled all the trees in the rookery out by the roots, an' flew off wid thim. An' the first thing they came aginet was this ould castle ; an' they failed it ivory bit to pieces but the wan wall that is left. An' it's not very long since I tould this story to two English gintlemen ; an' they were so plased wid it, they made me tell it over agin."
There were six passengers on the mail-car; and in the intervals of story-telling, their conversation was entirely political, the Anti-Parnellite element outnumbering the Parnellite. The chief Parnellite advocate was considerably "under the influence," or, as the universal formula in Ireland is, "had drink taken," before the car started. However, when a halt was made at a village post-office on the way, he found it, necessary to be in company with John Jameson again. Though he could hardly maintain the perpendicular, it was marvellous how very slightly his powers of expression were affected. His• language was well chosen, courteous, and coherent. The whole controversy was conducted in the most amicable spirit, notwithstanding the decided differences of opinion among the- speakers, and was in its own way an excellent illustration of L•ish conversational power. The car-driver himself seemed' rather undecided ; he declared that if a vote would put Parnell into heaven, " he couldn't give it to him, for he hadn't wan to give ! " And when pressed with the attitude of the Bishops, he observed that " if he knew William O'Brien's mind was to go wid Parnell, he'd be for him too." William O'Brien was evidently his Pope in the matter, if he could only know his mind. We desire to add here, by way of conclusion to this article, a remarkable specimen of readiness attributed to an Irish Rector, father of a living Irish Bishop, who was bene- ficed in the county where our car-driver plies his whip. A " fish-jolter " called at the rectory one day with fish for sale. " What have you to-day P" " Sole and plaice, your Reverence ; the finest iver swum the say." Rector, after examining them, for some time : " Damn your sole, leave the plaice." It would not be easy to get a better specimen of a double Ina than this.
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