“Well,” said Padna to his friend Micus, as they sat on a donkey cart on their way to market, “I wonder if you ever heard tell of Shauno the Rover.”

“Wisha, indeed I did not then. Who was he at all?” asked Micus.

“He was a distant relation of my own who lived in the good old days when women stayed at home and looked after the children and the household,” said Padna. “And he was as contrary a creature as ever mistook ignorance for knowledge, and like all of his kind he was as happy as the days are long when he was giving trouble to some one else. But, bad luck to him and to all like him, he was the most dissatisfied man that was ever allowed to have all his own way, and ’tis said he could swear in seven languages, and swear all day without getting tired.

“However, though he was queer and contrary, he was a gentleman withal. And he was never known to use his rare vocabulary in the presence of ladies, but would wait until their backs were turned, like a well-trained married man, and then curse and damn them one and all to perdition.”

“And was it the way he disliked women?” said Micus.

“Not exactly, but because he couldn’t find any particular one that he could like better than another. And that was why he made up his mind to leave the country altogether, and go to foreign parts to look for a wife who might be different from any he might find at home,” said Padna.

“Bedad,” said Micus, “Shauno must have been a genius or else a fool, and at times it takes a wise man to know one from the other.”

“Whatever he was, or whatever he wasn’t, one thing is certain, and that is, he was an excellent actor both on and off the stage, and could play the part of poet or peasant, king or beggar, with equal grace and naturalness. And so it was one day, when he got heartily sick of all the tame nonentities he had to deal with, he up and ses to himself: ‘Shauno,’ ses he, ‘there are enough of mollycoddles and pious humbugs in the world without adding to their number, and unless you will do something original now while you are young and foolish, you are not likely to do anything but what some one else tells you to do when you are old.’

“And without saying another word, he went straight home, dressed himself up as Henry the Eighth, and after paying a visit to the mayor of the town, went on board a warship that was lying in the harbour beyond. And when the poor captain saw Shauno attired like a mighty monarch, he got the fright of his life, and never said a word at all until Shauno up and ses: ‘’Tis a fine day, Captain,’ ses he.

“‘I know that myself, already,’ ses the Captain, ‘but who in the name of all the corncrakes in Munster are you, and what brings you here, and what can I do for you besides flinging you overboard to the sharks and the sea gulls?’

“‘Oh,’ ses Shauno, ‘don’t be so eager to do something you may be sorry for. All that I want you to do is to land me in Sperrispazuka within five days, and if you will accomplish the feat, I will raise your wages and promote you to the rank of admiral.’

“‘And who the blazes are you to come here without being invited and give an order like that to myself?’ ses the Captain.

“‘Who the devil do you think I could be, or want to be, you impudent varmint, but Henry the Eighth?’ ses he. ‘By all the people I have made miserable, I’ll have you lashed to the mouth of a cannon, and blown to smithereens if you don’t do what you are told. How dare you insult the King of England and Scotland, not to mention Ireland and Australia?’ ses he.

“Then the bold Captain ses: ‘I beg your Majesty’s pardon,’ ses he. ‘I thought you were some play actor or other who had lost his wits. So I hope you will accept my apology for the mistake I have so unfortunately made, and my stupidity likewise.’

“‘’Tis hard for me ever to forgive or overlook stupidity because, like all religious people, I can’t stand in another the faults I have in a large measure myself. But considering that you have been a faithful servant to the family for a number of years, I will let you off with a caution this time. But be sure and never make mistakes again, unless you know what you are doing,’ ses Shauno.

“‘Thank you for your kind advice,’ ses the Captain. ‘Is there anything I can do now to please or oblige your Majesty?’

“‘There is,’ ses Shauno. ‘Hold your tongue, put full steam ahead, and tell the sailors not to say their prayers aloud, because I am going to bed this very instant, and don’t want to be disturbed. But call me in the morning at eight o’clock sharp,’ ses Shauno. ‘And be sure and have my breakfast ready on time. I will have a busy day to-morrow. I must shave and read the newspaper.’

“‘What will you have for breakfast?’ ses the Captain.

“‘One fathom and half of drisheen, six fresh eggs, three loaves of bread, goat’s ears, ostrich brains, and two heads of cabbage. And I’d like a toothful of something to help me to digest the little repast,’ ses Shauno.

“‘I suppose a keg or two of rum, or a dozen of stout, will do,’ ses the Captain.

“‘As there’s luck in odd numbers, you had better make it three dozen of stout,’ ses Shauno. ‘And if I feel like any more, I’ll let you know.’

“Well, the old fool of a captain really thought he was Henry the Eighth, and he did everything that Shauno told him, until they reached Sperrispazuka.

“And when the mosques and the turrets of the city hove in sight and the ship once more lay at anchor, Shauno trod the deck with pride and ses to the Captain: ‘Captain,’ ses he, ‘allow me to compliment you on this marvellous achievement. I never before made the journey in such a short space of time, and in honour of the event I will make you a present of two-and-sixpence and make you a Knight of Columbus besides. But before I will take my leave of yourself and the ship, I want a royal salute of twenty-one guns to be fired and burst every pane of glass in the town beyond with the noise. A shout is better than a whisper if you want to be heard, and we all get more by asking for what we want than by remaining silent.’

“‘Anyhow,’ ses he, ‘half the world is living on its wits, or by bluff, if you will, and the other half enjoys itself, so to speak, at the expense of inequality, non-fraternity, and suppression of the people’s rights. Yet for all that, most of the well-fed and superfine humbugs we meet every day seem to be as happy and contented as if they deserved to be. And all you have got to do to convince yourself that the wisdom of man has not interfered with the extravagance of women is to look at the way they dress, or look at your bank book at the end of the year if you are married. But be all that as it may, I think that I have said enough, for talk is always cheap, and ’tis doubtful if anything that’s cheap or given away for nothing is ever appreciated by the discerning or the undiscerning.’

“‘And now,’ ses he, ‘as I have but a few more words to say, I would advise you, one and all, to be decent to each other while you can, because a time will come when you can’t. And ’tis better to do a foolish thing now than to be sorry for not doing it later. On the other hand, ’tis a wise policy to refuse anything you may be offered for nothing, because a compliment bestowed is always like a millstone around a man’s neck. Independence, of course, is a fine thing, but it is always purchased at too high a price. And a state of independence is only acquired by either cheating yourself or some one else.

“‘But nevertheless,’ ses he, ‘the man who always thinks of himself first is the last to be neglected. And the man who don’t hold his tongue when he has nothing to say is nearly sure to make a fool of himself. Howsomever, the time is now come for me to make my departure. So let loose the guns,’ ses he, ‘and fire the Royal Salute.’

“And lo and behold! the Captain obeyed his orders, and such noise was never before heard in the harbour of Sperrispazuka. And when silence was resumed Shauno whispered to the Captain and ses: ‘I’m going to sojourn here for a month or two, and I’ll send a telegram to you to call for me when I am ready to return.’ So with that they shook hands and parted.

“And when the ship sailed away, Shauno went ashore and walked around the town until he found a menagerie. Then he hired a complement of one hundred elephants, and numerous pages and attendants, flags, banners, caravans, and the devil knows what.”

“And what did he want the elephants for?” said Micus.

“He was going to visit the Shah,” said Padna, “and he wanted to make a good impression. And when all the elephants were placed one after another in a line, he took the place of honour himself on the back of the first and largest of the great brutes. And as the procession passed on its way through the town to the Shah’s country home, the House of Ten Thousand Windows, everybody—men, women, and children alike—stopped in the streets and took off their hats, thinking that Shauno was the King of England, and he was beginning to think so too, or at least that he was as great an old bla’guard as Henry himself. But when he arrived at the castle gates and found the Shah sitting on his tombstone feeding the pigeons, he was sorely disappointed, because he expected a royal escort to meet him outside the courtyard.

“The Shah was kind of startled when he saw Shauno and his staff, and nearly lost his temper and ses: ‘Who in the name of the few decent people that a man meets in the course of a lifetime, are you? And who the devil owns these Irish terriers?’ ses he, as he pointed to the elephants.

“‘Wisha, bad luck and a dozen daughters to you,’ ses Shauno, ‘what do the likes of you mean by offering insults to a distinguished foreigner like myself? If you read the newspapers as you should, you would know that I was Henry the Eighth, and that these quadrupeds are neither Irish terriers nor mosquitoes, but elephants.’

“‘Is that so?’ ses the Shah. ‘Wait till I will put on my glasses. My sight is somewhat impaired from reading the names of all my wives and their pedigrees.’ And then he put on his glasses and ses: ‘Bedad, sure enough, they are not Irish terriers at all, but real live elephants. And ’tis yourself is no one else but Henry the Eighth. I hope to be excused and forgiven for my mistake.’

“‘I’ll forgive you this time,’ ses Shauno.

“‘Very well,’ ses the Shah, ‘you might as well come inside and sit down if you are in no hurry, and we will see if we can’t enjoy ourselves, and I will get my servants to look after the terriers, I mean the elephants, while we’ll make merry.’

“‘The devil a hurry, or a flurry, am I in,’ ses Shauno. And with that they adjourned to the Shah’s drawing-room, and when they were comfortably seated in two armchairs, the Shah rang for a servant to fetch the decanter and a pack of cards. And when the cards were placed on the table, the Shah grabbed them up and ses to Shauno: ‘What is it going to be? A game of Forty-Five, or what? There’s nothing like a game of cards to pass a dull hour among dull people.’

“‘Forty-Five, of course,’ ses Shauno, as he poured out a glass of whiskey for himself and another for the Shah.

“‘Right you are,’ ses the Shah. ‘There’s nothing to beat a game of Forty-Five, except a good game of bowls on a hard straight road on a winter’s day. Howsomever, I won’t give you a demonstration on the art of bowl-playing now, but I will show you how to deal the cards in the true Carrigaline fashion, as introduced by the King of Spain while he was here on a visit many years ago.’

“‘Bedad,’ ses Shauno, ‘I think the Clonakilty, or the Skibbereen deal is just as good, but as they are all the same, we won’t allow the matter be a subject for discussion.’

“The cards were duly dealt, and the Shah ses to Shauno: ‘What will we play for at all?’ ses he.

“‘Small stakes for a start, of course,’ ses Shauno. ‘I’ll back every ship in my navy against every ship in yours, if you don’t mind.’

“‘Done,’ ses the Shah, as he placed the decanter on his head and finished the whiskey. Then they took off their coats, and after an exciting game the Shah won. Shauno was very much surprised and disappointed, and said as he pointed to the decanter to have it filled again: ‘Damn the bit of luck have I had since I met a red-headed widow two months ago first thing on a Monday morning, and I’m afraid I will never have any luck again.’

“‘I wouldn’t worry about that, if I were you. We will be all dead one day, and then we won’t know whether we were lucky or not,’ ses the Shah.

“‘That’s cold comfort, as the cat said after she jumped into the freezing water when chased by a mad dog. I have ruined my country by my extravagance. She is no longer Mistress of the Seas, and though that may be a consolation to Germany, it will lose for me a good deal of prestige. Howsomever, I am not dead broke yet, and even if a man is dead broke inself, there is no reason why he should go whining about it. A good gambler never cares whose money he spends or how much he loses. I will now,’ ses he, ‘back Ireland against what I have lost and keep up the custom of my country by treating the Irish with contempt and injustice. So let us play again.’

“‘Good,’ ses the Shah. ‘We’ll play again.’

“‘I’ll give them the tinker’s deal for luck this time,’ ses Shauno.

“‘As you please,’ ses the Shah. ‘’Tis all the same to me, so long as I win. A good gambler never cares how much he takes from his friends, or how many people he makes miserable.’

“This time they played a great game, but Shauno lost again, and it made him more angry than ever.

“‘Now,’ ses he, ‘that I have lost Ireland, it doesn’t matter what happens to the rest of my territory. We’ll play one game of Twenty-Five, and I’ll back my boots, my meerschaum pipe, five ounces of tobacco, and Australia against Ireland and my fleet.’

“‘Don’t you think you are getting reckless?’ ses the Shah.

“‘I may be,’ ses Shauno. ‘But I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. And one poor man more or less won’t make much difference. On with the game. Philosophy is only a comfort to a man when he isn’t in a state of desperation.’

“‘As you will,’ ses the Shah. ‘Anything at all to please you.’

“So the cards were dealt once more and they played a game of Twenty-Five, and the Shah scored.

“Shauno lost his temper and commenced to swear and break up the furniture, but the Shah only looked on and smiled. Then Shauno flung a chair at him, and ses: ‘You bleddy foreign rascal, sure ’tis myself that’s the fool for having anything to do with the likes of you. I’ll never be able to face home now, after all the misfortune I have had.’

“‘Oh,’ ses the Shah, ‘I wouldn’t behave like that if I were you. ’Tis undignified to appear natural in the presence of strangers. We should always reserve ingratitude and bad treatment for our friends. You are a little upset, of course, for losing what didn’t belong to you, but you will feel all right again as soon as you will begin to acquire what you don’t deserve.’

“‘If I had my own way,—’ ses Shauno.

“‘If we all had our own way, the little glimmer of democracy and decency that we see struggling for existence occasionally would disappear for ever,’ ses the Shah. ‘Howsomever, don’t be downhearted, but take a good drop of poteen, and ‘twill give you all the false courage that any man wants.’

“And then he produced a small keg of the best poteen, and they drank glass after glass, and sang all the songs they could remember, from ‘The Croppy Boy’ to the ‘Bard of Armagh,’ until they fell on the floor and had to be taken to bed.

“And there they slept for two days and three nights, and on the morning of the third day, Shauno woke up with a bursting headache, and asked the Shah if he was still alive and in the land of the living. And the Shah was surprised that a real aristocrat should be so upset and affected by a night’s innocent amusement. Well, they had breakfast together, and after the repast, the Shah took Shauno to see the sights, and when they arrived at the Royal Harem, Shauno fainted when he saw all the wives the poor Shah had to look after. It took him two weeks to count them all, and at the end of that time the Shah ses: ‘Well,’ ses he, ‘how many would you like to take for a present? You can have all you want, because I am expecting another shipload next week as a Christmas box.’

“‘Thanks for your kind offer,’ ses Shauno. ‘But I am cured now. I have made up my mind to go home and live in peace, and remain a bachelor for the remainder of my days.’

“‘Oh,’ ses the Shah, ‘I think you should at least take one, and she will help to remind you of your visit to the Shah of Sperrispazuka.’

“‘’Tis only too well that I know that, but I have seen all I ever want to see of women,’ ses Shauno. ‘But I’ll tell you what you can do without offending me, or hurting my tender feeling in any way.’

“‘What may that be?’ ses the Shah.

“‘You can loan me a million sovereigns to show there is no ill feeling between us, and send me home in one of your first-class battleships. Of course, I must travel as a private gentleman, and when I will arrive home, I will get my poet laureate to write an ode to your generosity.’

“‘I’ll loan you all you want,’ ses the Shah.

“So there and then he took out his bank book and gave him a cheque for the full amount, and on the morrow Shauno sailed away for England in one of the swiftest ships that ever went to sea, and the Shah never heard of him from that day to this.”

“That’s the devil’s own queer yarn,” said Micus. “What did the Shah do when he found out that he had been fooled?”

“Oh, he was as cross as a bag of cats, of course, and retired to the banquet hall of his castle, sent for all his wives, and made this speech:

“‘Ladies of all shapes and sizes,’ ses he, ‘I have good news for you this blessed day. I’m going to make widows of every one here present, and all those who couldn’t gain admittance to this large and spacious hall as well.’

“And when they heard what he said, they all burst forth into uproarious applause, and began to fling chairs, benches, stools, ink-bottles, and hairpins at each other. In short, they created the devil of a hullaballoo entirely, and they might have set fire to the place, only he threatened to send for the police. Well, when silence and order was restored, he continued and ses:

“‘Ladies,’ ses he, ‘you will be all glad to hear that I have been fooled and cheated by an impostor, and as I have proved conclusively to my own satisfaction that I am too foolish to live, I have made up my mind to die. Yes, ladies, and to die by my own hand too. But as many of you as possible must have something to remind you of married life and a devoted husband who is about to begin his troubles in the other world by ending his troubles in this. Now,’ ses he, ‘come forward, one and all, and let each of you pluck a hair from my leonine head, and keep it in a locket as a souvenir until you will go home to the devil, or wherever else you may be destined for.’

“And as the last few words were spoken, he bent down his head, and his wives came along in single file to comply with his request, and before an hour was at an end, the Shah of Sperrispazuka was as bald as a snowball.”

“And wouldn’t it be easier for him to get a scissors and cut his hair and then distribute the locks, than to do anything so foolish,” said Micus.

“Wisha, I suppose it would,” said Padna. “But we all do foolish things when we are upset or excited. Well, when that part of the ceremony was all over, he ses, as the tears came to his eyes: ‘Ladies,’ ses he, ‘I have no more to say. My hour is come and I am ready to die. I have here with me on this table a cocktail which is a concoction of ground green bottles, prussic acid, and black beetles mixed with some cheese that was refused by the soldiers at the fall of Rome, and if that won’t send me to glory or perdition, may I never again drown one of you in the Canal for losing your beauty. However,’ ses he, ‘as a last request I would ask you to control your emotion. Let there be no singing of the National Anthem, no dancing of jigs, drinking or carousing, breaking of windows or skulls, or any other patriotic manifestation of public grief, until I am cold in my grave.’

“And then he lifted the fatal glass to his lips and drained its contents to the dregs, and so passed away the Shah of Sperrispazuka.”

“I feel like having a drink of something, myself,” said Micus.

“So do I,” said Padna. “I think we’ll stop when we’ll come to the Thrush and Magpie.”

“As you please,” said Micus.

“I wonder,” said Padna to Micus, as they wended their way along a lonely road after Mass on a Sunday morning, “if you ever heard tell of the black dog of Dooniskey that was gifted with seven senses, second sight, and an easy disposition, who followed my grandfather from the Bridge of the Hundred Arches to the Half Way House in Cromwell’s Glen on the night of the rising of ‘98. And how he caught a hold of the tail of his coat and dragged him from Owen Roe’s Cross to Cuchulain’s Boreen while the soldiers of England’s king were scouring the highways looking for some one to hang to the nearest finger post. And ’twas little they cared about any man, for one man looked as good as another to them, as he swung from a branch of a tree on the roadside or on a gibbet on the mountain top. And ’twas the selfsame black dog that saved him from the fairies of Galway on a dark windy night, when all the fairies of the world assembled in the Gap of Dunlow and made speeches in favour of women holding their tongues until the Judgment Day.”

“I never heard tell of the black dog of Dooniskey, or your old grandfather, or the fairies who wanted to steal him either, but what the fairies wanted him for is more than I can understand,” said Micus.

“Wisha, bad luck to your ignorance this blessed day, not to know that he was the best musician in the seven parishes, and the likes of his playing on the fiddle was never known since the Devil played a jig for Henry the Eighth the night he died. What do you think the fairies would want my grandfather for, but to play the ‘Coulin,’ ‘Eileen Aroon,’ ‘The Last Rose of Summer,’ ‘The Dirge of Ossian,’ ‘The Lamentation of Deirdre’ and ‘My Dark Rosaleen’ for them in the caves of the ocean when the drowsy eye of night quivers and closes, and they tired of dancing to the music of the waves on the cobbled beaches of the north, south, east, and western coast?” said Padna.

“’Tis a great thing indeed to be able to play the fiddle, sing a song, dance a jig, make a short speech, tell a good story, or do anything at all that gives pleasure to another, but the greatest of all achievements is to be able to please yourself without offending some one else. But be that as it may, let me hear no more about your grandfather, because there is nothing disagrees with me more than to have to listen to some one retailing the exploits of people I haven’t the remotest interest in,” said Micus.

“Well, then, you might like to hear about the black cat I met the night before I got married,” said Padna.

“What’s coming over you at all? If we were to be noticing the doings of black cats, black dogs, the rats that leave a ship, the queer dreams that follow a heavy supper, the calm that precedes and follows a storm, and all the other signs and tokens that may mean everything or nothing, we would become so bewildered that damn the bit of work would we do from one end of the year to the other, and by trying to become too wise we would become too foolish for sensible people to pay any attention to us,” said Micus.

“Some men don’t realize how foolish they are by being too sensible, until they see their grandchildren squandering their hard-earned savings,” said Padna.

“That’s the kind of experience that makes pessimists, and the few people worth working for are, as a rule, able to work for themselves. And though there is a limit to all things, except the extravagance of women and the patience of husbands, yet on the other hand only for women there would be no trouble, and without trouble of some kind life wouldn’t be worth living,” said Micus.

“There’s trouble everywhere, both on the dry land, the stormy ocean, in the cot and in the castle, and the devil a one will you ever find who doesn’t like to have a quarrel now and again. But as the Mayor of Loughlaurna said to me one day: ‘Life is too short for some, too long for others, and a great bother to us all,’” said Padna.

“Who the devil was the Mayor of Loughlaurna, and where did you meet him?” said Micus.

“The Mayor of Loughlaurna,” said Padna, “if I am to take his own word for it, was a gentleman.”

“A gentleman,” said Micus, “don’t have to tell you he’s one.”

“Neither does a bla’guard, a thief, or a rogue, for that matter,” said Padna. “Howsomever, ’twas on a summer’s day, many years ago when I was young, and believed all the things I should doubt, and doubted all I should believe, that I met the Mayor of Loughlaurna. I was out fishing in a small boat that I had moored in the centre of the lough itself, and though I started at early morning, blast the bit did I catch all day except a cold in the head and chest, but as I was about to haul in my line at the tail end of the evening, something began to pull and tug, and I hauled and hauled and hauled until I thought I was dragging one of the Spanish Armada from the depths of the sea. But lo and behold! what did I find, when I came to the end of my pulling and tugging and dragging, but the finest-looking salmon your eyes ever rested on. And when I drew him over the gunwale, and took the hook from his mouth before breaking his neck on my knee, he gave one jump, cleared two thwarts, stood on his tail and commenced to abuse me, the same as if he was in politics all his lifetime.”

“And what did he say?” said Micus.

“‘Bad scran to your confounded impudence and presumption, not to say a word about your absence of courtesy and good breeding,’ ses he. ‘How dare you interfere with people who don’t interfere with you?’

“‘Oh,’ ses I, ‘sure ’tis by interference, inference, and ignorance that most of us become prosperous and presumptuous. And without presumption there would be no assumption, and without assumption there would be only chaos, and people would never get the things they are not entitled to.’

“‘Well,’ ses he, ‘I often heard that a little learning is the saving grace of an ignoramus, but now I have no doubt whatever about it.’

“‘Well,’ ses I, ‘if it takes a rogue to find a rogue, it takes one ignoramus to find wisdom in another.’

“‘I think,’ ses he, ‘that you have a lot to learn, and as much more to unlearn, before you will be fit to advise those who may be senseless enough to heed you.’

“‘You should know,’ ses I, ‘unless you are a schoolmaster, that what is wisdom to one man is tomfoolery to another. But who the blazes are you anyway, that I should be wasting my time talking like this?’

“‘You might as well be talking to me as anyone else,’ ses he, ‘because most people spend their lives between talking and sleeping, and all their old talk makes no more impression on the world than their snoring. And when they die, they are immediately forgotten by every one except those to whom they owed money. But if ’tis the way you want to know who I am,’ ses he, ‘I will tell you before you will have time to make another mistake.’

“‘You must hurry up then,’ ses I.

“‘The man who stands here before you,’ ses he, ‘is no less a person than His Lordship the Mayor of Loughlaurna.’

“‘That’s a giant of a title for a bit of a man like yourself,’ ses I. ‘But how came the likes of you to be Mayor of Loughlaurna?’

“‘What way would any one become mayor of a city, unless by his ability to control others, or the ability of others to control him? Many a man got a good job because he knew how to hold his tongue,’ ses he.

“‘Bedad,’ ses I, ‘honesty must have gone on a holiday the day that gold was discovered, and never returned.’

“‘Wisha, God help you for a poor fool to think that honesty ever existed. Honesty is like the gift of silence among women,—it only exists, so to speak, after death. But now to my history. I suppose you often heard tell of a song that the tinkers sing in public houses on Saturday nights. It goes like this:

“‘Indeed, I did then many and many a time,’ ses I. ‘My mother used to sing it for me when I was in the cradle, and ‘twill keep ringing in my ears till the day I die, as ‘twill keep ringing in the ears of every son of Granuaile, whether he be drinking tea with the dusky maidens of the South Seas or philandering with the beauties of the United States.’

“‘Are the American beauties as contrary as ever?’ ses he.

“‘Well,’ ses I, ‘they can afford to be more so than women who can’t support their husbands. Man at last is emancipated and is now beginning to take his place side by side with woman. The age of freedom is at hand and chaos is within arm’s reach,’ ses I.

“‘That little digression was interesting,’ ses he. ‘But to proceed about the song. My poor mother used to sing it for me too, and told me the story of how it came to be written. It appears that in the long, long ago, before people were as satisfied with their ignorance and bad manners as they are to-day, there was a well in the town of Neagh that grew to be a great lake in the middle of the night, and before morning came the highest steeple was covered, and every single inhabitant, man, woman, and child, was drowned. And only for that,’ ses he, ‘maybe ’tis the way yourself would be walking through the streets of the town this very day admiring the pretty girls, for ’tis the eye of a philanderer you have, not to mention your sleuthering tongue.’

“‘’Twas long ago that I gave up admiring the pretty girls,’ ses I.

“‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ ses he. ‘A man is never too old to admire a pretty woman. And the old men, God forgive them, are worse than the young men. For the young ones does be shy and bashful, while the old ones are as brazen and courageous as the Devil himself, even though they might be on the brink of the grave itself.’

“‘I have listened to enough of your old talk, and if you want me to believe that you are the Mayor of Loughlaurna, you must prove it. What are you but a fish? And how could a fish be Mayor of a city?’

“‘I wasn’t always a fish, and I suppose you have heard of Spain and the Rocky Mountains?’ ses he.

“‘I have, of course,’ ses I.

“‘And the children of Lir?’ ses he.

“‘Yes,’ ses I.

“‘Well, the night before King Lir’s lovely daughter Fionnuala and her two brothers were turned into swans by the magic power of their stepmother, and condemned to wander on the waters of the world for three hundred years, I was sitting by my own fireside, reading about the adventures of Brian Boru, the Red Branch Knights, Queen Maeve, and Deirdre.’

“‘Pardon me,’ ses I, ‘Brian Boru wasn’t born when King Lir took unto himself a second wife.’

“‘You shouldn’t interrupt me for a trifle like that, though strictly speaking trifles are the cause of most interruptions. That’s only a historical mistake, and history itself is full of mistakes. And the man who can’t make a mistake must be a damn fool. However,’ ses he, ‘as I was sitting by the hearth reading away for myself, who should stroll into the drawing-room but a fairy princess with a wand in her hand? And as I didn’t know who she was or where she came from, I up and ses: “Good night, ma’am,” ses I, “as you wouldn’t say it yourself.”’

“‘Good night kindly,’ ses she.

“‘Might I ask who are you at all?’ ses I.

“‘If I told you who I am, you would be as wise as myself,’ ses she.

“‘Do you know who you are talking to?’ ses he.

“‘Indeed, I do,’ ses she. ‘You are Michael Henry Patrick Joseph Billy Dan MacMorrough, the Mayor of Laurna.’

“‘That’s my full name and title,’ ses he, ‘but I takes more after my mother’s people than my father’s.’

“‘That’s a pity, because your mother was decent to the point of folly, while your father never did a bit for any one but himself,’ ses she.

“‘And what may your business be with me this blessed night?’ ses he.

“‘I just want to amuse myself at your expense,’ ses she.

“‘And why at all?’ ses he.

“‘Well, just because you are the most respected man in the land, and have only a good word for every one, and because you have always done the right thing and lived an exemplary life. In this world most things go by contrary. The good must suffer so that the bad may have a chance of enjoying themselves. And as the good are always worrying about the bad, and as the bad never bother their heads about the good, and as everything is topsy turvy, ’tis only right and consistent that you should be duly punished for your virtues, and made to know what sorrow means in its widest sense,’ ses she.

“‘What are you going to do to me?’ ses he.

“‘I’m going to turn you into a fish,’ ses she.

“‘What kind of a fish? A sprat or a mackerel maybe?’ ses he.

“‘Nothing so common,’ ses she.

“‘What, then?’ ses he.

“‘A salmon,’ ses she.

“‘Thank heavens,’ ses he. ‘That same is a consolation.’

“‘Things are never so bad that a woman can’t make them worse. And things might be much better.’

“‘Howsomever,’ ses he, ‘I think that ’tis a piece of gross injustice to change me from a respectable man into a fish, moreover when I am head and ears in love with King Lir’s lovely daughter Fionnuala.’

“‘Lir’s lovely daughter was turned into a swan last night,’ ses she. ‘But ’tis better to have loved and lost inself than to be kept awake at night by squalling children who won’t thank you when they grow up for all you had to endure on their account. And who would want to provide for a large wife and a large family unless he might have plenty money,’ ses she.

“‘Is it the truth you are telling about the children of Lir?’ ses he.

“‘’Twill soon be a recorded fact in history,’ ses she.

“And as the words fell from her lips, tears fell from his eyes, and he wept and wept until the water reached his chin, and then with one wave of the magic wand he was turned into a salmon, but he still continued to weep and weep until the waters rose above the highest steeple in the town of Laurna, and there he lived swimming about in his own tears, until I caught him when fishing for bream on a summer’s evening some five and twenty years ago,” said Padna.

“And what did you say to him when he told you that yarn?” said Micus.

“I said that I thought he should have been more upset about his own fate than that of Lir’s lovely daughter.

“‘That may be,’ ses he, ‘but there’s no pleasure to be got from worrying about yourself. We only really enjoy ourselves when we fret and worry about those we love. The pleasures of melancholy are best enjoyed by those who have loved and lost and been desired by no one else. And besides,’ ses he, ‘the man who has suffered is always more interesting and entertaining than the man who has not. But at best that is only cold comfort.’

“‘True for you,’ ses I. ‘Yet you should have received your liberty years and years ago, because the children of Lir were released from their captivity at the dawn of Christianity. The ringing of the first church bell was the signal for their release, but when they returned home after their wanderings, all their old friends and neighbours were dead and gone. Why you should be made suffer so much, or any of us, the best and the worst, is more than I can comprehend.’

“‘The devil a one of me can understand it, either. None of us know what’s before us, because none of us know what may have been behind us, so to speak. But if I did live before, ’tisn’t likely that I was an angel,’ ses he.

“‘I suppose,’ ses I, ‘that none of us can differentiate thoroughly between good and evil. What one man thinks is right another will think is wrong, and while none of us understand the other, we can’t expect things to be any better than they are. If we all thought alike, there would be no difference of opinion. And if we all agreed about religion and politics, we might have the greatest contempt for each other. And unless a man is either better or worse than ourselves, we don’t pay any attention to him at all.’

“‘True,’ ses he.

“‘We could keep bladdering away like this till the leaves fall from the trees, but you have not told me yet when the fairy princess said you would be released,’ ses I.

“‘When a woman can be found who don’t want to get her photo taken, or see herself in a mirror, or want to read her husband’s letters, or search his pockets, and when the Germans will get to Paris,’ ses he.

“‘You had better go back to the Lough,’ ses I.

“‘I will,’ ses he, ‘because I am getting thirsty as well as homesick.’

“And with that he shook hands with me, bid me good-by, and jumped into the waters, and that was the last I saw of the Mayor of Loughlaurna.”

“There’s no place like home,” said Micus.

“No,” said Padna.

“Ah, God help us, but ’tis a bad night for poor sailors,” said Padna Dan, as he pulled his chair close to the glowing hearth where faggots blazed and a kettle sang. “The strand will be strewn with wreckage to-morrow, and there will be more widows and lonely mothers in the world than ever there was before, and all because the winds have no mercy, and the sea has no mercy, and there’s no mercy anywhere but in the heart of God. There’s a peal of thunder now, and if the clouds burst and the rain comes, there won’t be a sheaf of corn left standing in Castlebawn to-morrow.”

“There will, please God,” said Micus, as he stirred the fire.

“’Tis like you to have the good word,” said Padna, “but I’m sick and tired of this country altogether. When we have a fine summer we have a bad autumn, and when we have a good spring we have a wet summer, and when we have a hard winter we have nothing at all. I can’t understand these things. ‘Pon my word, I can’t.”

“No, nor any one else, either,” said Micus. “How is it that decent fathers and mothers rear worthless children, and worthless children rear decent fathers and mothers? Or how is it that grass grows in the fields, and the lark sings in the sky, and the trees lose their leaves in winter? Or how is it that the world isn’t under water long ago after all the rain we’ve had since Cromwell went to hell? Or how is it that people will spend half their lifetime educating themselves, and then go to war and kill people they had no quarrel with at all?”

“Didn’t I tell you I can’t understand these things?” said Padna, rather piqued. “Sure if I could, I’d be a philosopher, and if I was a philosopher, I wouldn’t have to worry about anything.”

“And why?” said Micus.

“Because philosophers are people with easy minds and usually they have all they want.”

“And what’s a pessimist?” said Micus.

“A pessimist is a philosopher before he gets a good job,” answered Padna.

“And what am I then?”

“What are you? You’re a philosopher, of course.”

“Bedad, I suppose I am,” said Micus. “It takes all kinds of people to make a world, anyway.”

“It does,” said Padna. “Philosophers, pessimists, suffragettes, and policemen.”

“The world is a strange place.”

“Indeed it is, and a beautiful place, when you haven’t to work for a living.”

“And life is a strange thing.”

“Life is a wonderful thing, a queer and bewildering thing, but a magnificent thing withal, when you’re not married.”

“’Tis, but no one makes the most of it. Some make it short by trying to make it long, and others make it long by trying to make it short.”

“Suicide is a cowardly thing if you’re married, and a brave thing if you’re not, but there’s nothing worse than selfishness, except being an Orangeman. They’re more proud than the peacocks themselves, and no one would bother with peacocks only for their fine feathers.”

“I never ate peacocks,” said Micus, “but I’d rather a good piece of bacon and cabbage than the finest turkey that was ever killed, cooked, and eaten.”

“Good green cabbage is a wholesome thing and bacon is better, but when a man has neither, there’s nothing like a good smoke.”

“That’s the worst of this country,” said Micus. “Some things are better than others, and a little of anything only gives you an appetite for more, and too much is as bad as too little. Too little makes one peevish and selfish, and too much makes one foolish. When you’re happy, you start thinking about the days of sorrow and mourning you had, and when you’re unhappy you start thinking about the days of joy and pleasure, and no matter what way you are, you want to be some other way. Sure this is no place for a man to live, if he wants to enjoy himself.”

“And where would you live if not in your native land? The savage loves his native heath.”

“I know he does, but the real estate men love it better, and that’s why land is so dear in America. The Land of Peace and Plenty is the only place to live.”

“The Land of Peace and Plenty! Where’s that?”

“Oh! ’tis leagues and leagues and leagues from anywhere you know.”

“And how did you get there?”

“In a ship, of course. When I was a boy, I sailed over the ocean for six months without finding a single night, nothing but days all the time, until you forgot what darkness was like. Well, one night at twelve o’clock, though ’twas broad daylight, mind you, one of our crew, Martin O’Farrell, was playing ‘The Boys of Wexford’ on a gadget, when lo and behold! a sea serpent puts his head out of the waters and ses: ‘Bravo, Martin,’ ses he. ‘That’s the finest tune in all the world, but play me a four-hand reel,’ ses he, ‘“The Kerryman’s Daughter,” for choice, and I’ll dance for you until old Ireland is free.’ And Martin started to play ‘The Kerryman’s Daughter’ and the sea serpent started to dance, and he kicked up such a devil of a row, and lashed and splashed the waters until our ship got tossed about so badly that she finally foundered, and not a soul was saved but myself.”

“And how did you save yourself?”

“Well, when I saw the way things were, I thought to myself that there was trouble ahead, so I lashed a knife to each of my feet, and one on each of my hands, the way you’d see fins on a fish. I put three on my back and so many on my head that you’d think I was a porcupine, and when I looked to the west, I saw land about two or three hundred miles away. ‘Fortune favors the brave as well as the foolish,’ ses I, and then I started out for the shore.”

“You did, is it?”

“If I didn’t, how could I be telling you all about it? Well, the sea was alive with hungry sharks, but every time one swallowed me up, I cut my way through and escaped, only to be swallowed again, but even that had its advantages. I was carried nearer the shore each time, until finally I reached terra firma, as safe and as sound as a Protestant.”

“How many sharks did you kill?”

“Just enough to teach the others how to behave themselves.”

“And when you reached the shore, what did you do?”

“I dried my clothes on the hot sand, shaved myself with one of the knives I had on my head, and used a pool of water for a looking glass, and when I combed my hair, every lady in the land fell in love with me, but I only fell in love with one.”

“And what kind was she?” asked Padna.

“She was a lady of great beauty,” said Micus, “and as she passed by she looked into my eyes, and though I might live for ten thousand years I will never forget her. Sure no words that ever were spoken could describe her queenly gait and inspiring glances. She seemed to have come from some place not yet discovered by man, and looked as lonesome and as beautiful as a lily in a cabbage garden.”

“And why did you not follow her and find out something about her?”

“Ah me, sure she disappeared for ever, before I could find any word at all to say. I have seen other beautiful women, but they had only the beauty of flowers which fade and die. But her beauty was the beauty which lives and never dies.”

“I suppose it must be that same thing which all the people does be talking about, but don’t know what it is at all, at all.”

“Sure if you knew all about anything, you wouldn’t be talking about it.”

“That’s true.”

“Love is the most beautiful thing in all the world, and it isn’t so much anything else as a divine state of mind.”

“So ’twas in the Land of Peace and Plenty that you fell in love with a beauty who came into your life for a moment and went out of it for ever?”

“Yes,” said Micus.

“An’ that’s why you’ve remained an old bachelor, was it?”

“That’s the one and only reason.”

“I am sorry for you,” said Padna.

“You needn’t be sorry,” said Micus. “If a bachelor has sorrows, he has joys as well, and ’tis better to keep what you have than to lose what you haven’t.”

“How could you lose what you haven’t?”

“Well, you might get it if you tried hard enough, and then only find discontent and disillusionment.”

“I’d like to go to the Land of Peace and Plenty. It must be a wonderful place.”

“A wonderful place it is, then, surely, and nearly as wonderful as the sun itself.”

“When the earth goes too near the sun it is too hot, and when it goes too far away from the sun it is too cold, but in the Land of Peace and Plenty, I suppose it must be always beautiful.”

“Indeed and it is.”

“What do all the people do there?”

“In the Land of Peace and Plenty, nobody does anything but enjoy themselves.”

“And if the Land of Peace and Plenty is such a wonderful place, how is it that the great powers of the world don’t go to war for it?” asked Padna.

“Sure they did go to war for it long before you began to make mistakes,” answered Micus, “and great battles were fought there too. And after the greatest battle of all was ended, the King ses to all the High Generals: ‘Fellow warriors and likewise courageous omadhauns,’ ses he, ‘what are we fighting for, anyway? The world is large enough for us all, and there’s enough of dead men already, and those that aren’t dead are alive, and those that are alive are nearly dead, but all the same,’ ses he, ‘I must compliment you on the magnificent way you slaughtered my fellow countrymen and your own fellow men, though why you did so, or wanted to do so, God alone knows.’”

“Every man is entitled to as much enjoyment as he can afford,” said Padna. “Sorrow is the price of pleasure, and the sport of nations is the curse of mankind.”

“We won’t discuss international politics. The world was best when people left others to mind their own business.”

“Proceed about the King of the Land of Peace and Plenty,” said Padna. “Interruptions and digressions are bad unless they’re for one’s good.”

“That’s true, but half a loaf is better than no bread when a man isn’t hungry.”

“Two heads are better than one,” said Padna, “and two fools, if they are any way sensible at all, are better than a wife with a bad temper. But comparisons are odious, as the whale said to the grasshopper. Go on with your story.”

“Well, the King ses to the Generals, after they had all forgotten what he first started talking about: ‘I demand,’ ses he, ‘in the name of justice, common sense, and humanity, that we will be allowed time to bury our dead, and that there will be no thunderous cannonading of artillery, no charges of cavalry, infantry, nor anything else that might be a breach of the etiquette of war, until our last man is buried.’ And then and there the Generals agreed, and from that day to this, there was never a sound, except of music, heard in the Land of Peace and Plenty.”

“I don’t quite understand,” said Padna.

“Well,” said Micus, “don’t you see, when the last man was buried, some one else died, and as there will be always some one dying, there will be always some one to be buried in the Land of Peace and Plenty.”

“All the water is boiled out of the kettle,” said Padna.

“There’s plenty more in the well,” said Micus.