NOVEL'S.
BALLYGULLION.*
LYNN DOYLE'S work is new to us, though the lines on Which it moves are so familiar as to be almost reactionary. For not only is he an inveterate optimist, with a conscientious distaste for unhappy endings, but the Irish peasant as repre- sented in his pages is no downtrodden victim of raekrenting landlords or tyrannous officials, but a rolliolzing "playboy," always up to some "divilment" or "diversion." Of late years this type of Irish story bad fallen out of fashion, Partly no doubt because it had ceased to reflect the spirit of the people, and partly from the emergence of new literary ideals. To admire Lever, for instance, was to rule yourself out of court so far as any claim to culture went, and a nisi,/ tradition grew up that for an Irish novelist to be amusing was an act of anti-patriotism. Then came two Writers of genius—Miss Martin and Miss Somerville—and knocked this new tradition so effectually on the head that no atIgma, attaches to a writer who ventures to depict the stile aa well es the tear in Erin's eye. Many instances of this reaction might be given, as, for example, the adthission by Irish critics that Lever has been greatly underrated; but we 'could point to no more conspicuous example than Mr. Lynn Doyle's boisterous, almost " knockabout," tales of Antrim. Of the poetry of the Glens of Antrim so wonderfully conveyed In"Moira O'Neill'e " lyrics there is hardly a trace in these pages, but the Glens are a place apart. Here we have to deal With a robust, shrewd, pugnacious set of people who talk a dialect largely interspersed with Lowland ScOtch,—there is only one province in Ireland in which such words as "wee," " trysted," and "throng" are heard. The romance of the 'Western Gael is lacking ie these pictures of the Ulster Peasantry, but their efforts to overreach one another, their love of poaching, and the operations of their marriage Market afford Mr. Doyle a congenial field for the display of his observation, his high spirits, and his genuine, if occasionally somewhat crude, sense of the ridiculolui. In Stories like "The Silent Dog "—an excellent farce—Mr. Doyle reminds us not a little of Mr. Jacobs ; but there is something delightfelly Irish in the daring stratagem of the lover who organises poaching excursion into the domain of his pros- pective father-in-law so that at the critical moment be might Pose as the vindicator of the law. But by far the best story in the book is the comedy of "The Ballygnillon Creamery Society." It begins with the lecture on dairy-farming by an ekpert from the Board of Agriculture, at which, owing to an imfortunate blunder, whitewash was poured into the separator instead of milk, to the temporary confusion of the demonstrator. flowerer, the Society was duly started, and lilt went " brave fly Lynu Doyle. iuitus litrtuusel at141 Cu. 1.611.j
and paceable " until Michael Murray, ." the diva av a. Man for pace-makin'," proposed that, as an evidenee of impartiality, the meetings should be 'held alternately in the Orange Hall and the United Irish League rooms. The results of this decision may be readily guessed, and ultimately it required all the joint diplomacy of Major Donaldson and of Father Connolly to avert the collapse of the entire scheme. Father Conuolly's speech is so excellent that we make no muse for quoting it in full
" Men an' wimmin av Ballygullion,' sea Father Connolly—he was aye a plain-spoken wee man—' we're met here to end up the United Cramery Society, and after that we're goin' to start two societies, I hear. The siusiblo men av Ballygullion sees that it would be altogether absurd an' ridiculous for Catholics an' Protestants, Home Rulers an' Unionists, to work together in anything at all. As they say, the two parties is altogether opposed in everything that's important. The wan keeps Patrick's Day for a holiday, and the other the Twelfth ay. July ; the colours of the ono is green, an' the colours of the other orange ; the wan wants to send their Mimbers av Parliament to College Green, and the other to Westminster; an' there are a lot more differences just as important as these. It's three,' goes on the Father, that some ignorant poisons says that, after all, the two parties lives in the same counthry, undher the same sky, wi' the same sun shinin' on them an' the same rain wettin' thim ; an' that What's good for that counthry is good tor both parties ; an' what's bad for it is bad for both ; that they live side by side as neighbours, liti! buy and sell among wan another, an' that nobody has iver Seen that there was twiuty-one shillin's in a Catholic pound, an' nineteen in a Protestant pound, or the other way about ; an' that, although they go about it in different ways, they worithip the Mlle God, the God that made both 'av thim ; but I needn't tell ye that these are only a few silly bodies, All' don't riprisint the opinion av the counthry.' A good many people in the hall was leokin' foelish enough be this time, an' ivorybody was waitin' to hear the Father tell them to make it up, an' most ev them willin' enough to do it. The Major was leanin' back, looking well satisfied. 'Now,' sez Father Connolly, 'after what I've said, I needn't tell yo that I'm av the opinion av the sinsible men, and I think that by all manes we should have a Catholic cramery, and a Protestant wan.' The Major sits up wi' a start, an' wan looks at the other all over the room. 'The only thing that bothers me,' sea the Father, goin' on an' bitch)! no notice, 'IS the difficulty av dein' it. It's aisy enough to sort out the Catholic farmers from the Protestant ; but what about the cattle ?' sea he. 'It a man rears up a calf till it becomes a COWi theee's no doubt flint cow Must be Nationalist Or Orange. She couldn't helP it, livin' in this country. Now what are you going to do when a Nationalist buys an Orange cow P Tanunas MeGerrian bought a cow from wee Billy there last month that Billy bred an' reared himself. Do ye mane to tell me that's a Nationalist'cow ? I tell ye whit it is, hem sot the Father, eyes twinklin',4*an can av that awes milk in i. Nationalist ernmery would turn the butther as yellow as the shutters av the Orange Hall.' By this time there was a smudge av a laugh on iverybody's face, au' even Tammae an' wee Billy couldn't help crackin' a smile. 'Now,' sea Father Connolly,' ef th or all it's aisy enough in the case av Tommie's cow. there's no donyin' she's an Orange eoW, an' eithot Tatninas may go to the Orange oramery or give tho cow back to Billy.' . Tammas sits up a bit at that. But, thin, there's a lot of mighty curious cases. There's my own wee Kerry. Ivorybody knows I bred her myself; but, thin, there's no denyin' that her father—if that's the right way to spake ar a bull—belonged to Major Donaldson here, an' was called "Pcince of Orange." Now be the law a child follows its father in these matters, an' I'm bound bb it to send the wee, Kerry's milk to the Orange crainery, although l'll maintain she's as good a Nationalist as ever stepped—didn't she thramp down ivory Orange lily in Billy Black's garden only last Monday ? So, boys, when ye think the matter out, ye'll see it's no aisy. mealier this separe,the av Orange an' Green in the cratilery. For if ye do it right—and I'm for no half-measures- ye'll have to get the pedigree nv ivory bull, cow, and calf in the counthry, an' thin yell be little further on, for thete's a lot ar bastes come in every year from Americay that's little better than haythilf. But, if ye take my advice, those am ye that isn't sure av your cows '11 just go on quietly together in the mametime, let thini that has got a rale thrtio-bleo baste av either porsnasion just keep her milk to themselves, and skim it in the ould- fashioned way wi' a spoon.'" Mr. Lynn Doyle's humour isA times marred by an exaggera- tion that recalls American methods, and the Donnybrook element is apt to predominate. Bat with all deductions, it is good, hearty, wholesome fun. And we only trust, in Ireland's best interests, that the stamp of the Ballygullion Creamery-7 a wreath of shamrocks and orange lilies—is not merely an
amiable invention, but has its counterpart in reality.
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