Darby O'Gill

“ There was, too, a kind of fierce quiet in the way McCarthy spoke that made Darby shiver.
The stone-cutter wint on talkin’ the same as though he was goin’ to dhrive a bargain. “They say you’re a knowledgeable man, Darby O’Gill,” he says, “an’ that on a time you spint six months with the fairies. Now I make you this fair, square offer,” he says, laying a forefinger in the palm of the other hand. “I have fifty-three pounds that Father Cassidy’s keeping for me. Fifty-three pounds,” he says agin. ”

“ Tears of gladness crept into Darby’s eyes as he looked in upon her. “God bless her!” he says to himself. “She’s the flower of the O’Hagans and the O’Shaughnessys, and she’s a proud feather in the caps of the O’Gills and the O’Gradys.”
’Twas well he had this happy thought to cheer him as he lifted the door-latch, for the manest of all the little cobbler’s spiteful thricks waited in the house to meet Darby—nayther Bridget nor the childher raymembered a single thing of all that had happened to them during the day. ”

“ With a leap Darby was behind her, his stick falling sharply on her flanks. The ingratichude of that cow almost broke Darby’s heart. Rosie turned fiercely on him with a vicious lunge, her two horns aimed at his breast. There was no suppler boy in the parish than Darby, and well for him it was so, for the mad rush the cow gave would have caught any man the laste trifle heavy on his legs and ended his days right there.
As it was, our hayro sprang to one side. As Rosie passed his left hand gripped her tail. When one of the O’Gills takes hould of a thing he hangs on like a bull-terrier. ”

“ But there’ll be lads there, and hundreds you won’t see, that’ll stand no ill words, Darby O’Gill.”
“One question more, ma’am," says Darby, as Sheelah was moving away. “How late in the night will they stay without?”
Sheelah caught him by the collar and, pulling his head close, whuspered:
“When the cock crows the Good People must be safe at home. After cock-crow they have no power to help or to hurt, and every mortal eye can see them plain.” ”

“ The place of honour on the right wall was given to Darby’s fourth cousin, Phelem McFadden, an’ he was painted with a pair of handcuffs on him. Wullum O’Gill had a squint in his right eye, and his thin legs bowed like hoops on a barrel.
If you have ever at night been groping your way through a dark room, and got a sudden, hard bump on the forehead from the edge of the door, you can undherstand the feelings of the knowledgeable man. ”

“ All the handsomeness in Darby’s childher came from his own side of the family. Even Father Cassidy said the childher took afther the O’Gills.
“If I were rich,” said Darby, to a lazy ould bumble-bee who was droning an’ tumbling in front of him, “I’d have a castle like Castle Brophy, with a great picture-gallery in it. On one wall I’d put the picture of the O’Gills and the O’Gradys, and on the wall ferninst them I’d have the O’Hagans an’ the O’Shaughnessys.” ”

“ Darby struggled to his feet. Not a stone of the castle was left, not a sod of turf but what was in its ould place; every sign of the little cobbler's work had melted like April snow. The very threes Darby had seen pulled up by the roots that same afternoon now stood a waving blur below the new moon, an' a nightingale was singing in their branches. A cricket chirped lonesomely on the same fallen log which had hidden the Leprechaun.
“Bridget! Bridget!” Darby called agin an' agin. Only a sleepy owl on a distant hill answered. ”

“ Although Darby was a nuntimate friend of the fairies, yet, as Margit Doyle said, he had such a black dhread of all other kinds of ghosts that to get him out on this threatening Halloween night, to walk past the churchyard, as he must do on his way to Cormac McCarthy’s cottage, was a job ayquil to liftin’ the Shannon bridge. How she was to manage it she couldn’t for the life of her tell; but if the errant was left undone she would be the laughin’-stock of every woman in the parish. ”

“ On a day when they two were sitting alone together she says to him:
“Darby, dear,” says she, “it isn’t right for a dacint man of family to be spending his days cavortin’ and idlin’ and fillin’ the hours with sport and nonsense. We must get you out of here; for what is a sovereign a day to compare with the care and protection of a father?” she says.
“Thrue for ye!” moaned Darby, “and my heart is just splittin’ for a sight of Bridget an’ the childher. Bad luck to the day I set so much store on a dirty, ongrateful, treacherous cow!” ”

“ Where is the pillosopher except Darby O’Gill who would have guessed that ’twas meself that was in the coach, an’ would have flung me the by-worrud so careless and handy?” cried the King, his face blazing with admyration.
The worruds put pride into the heart of our hayro, an’ pride the worruld over is the twin sisther of courage. ”

“ After this, Darby never looked back again or to the right or the left of him, but kept straight on till he found himself, panting and puffing, at his own kitchen door. 'Twas tin minutes before he could spake, but at last, whin he tould Bridget to make ready herself and the childher to go up to the Divil's Pillow with him, for once in her life that raymarkable woman, without axing, How comes it so? What rayson have you? or Why should I do it? set to work washing the childher's faces. ”

“ One could have scraped with a knife the surprise off Darby’s face.
“Would yer Reverence have me let out the Corkonians, the Connaught men, and the Fardowns, I ask ye?” he says, hotly. “When Mrs. Malowney there goes home and finds that Tim has married the Widow Hogan, ye’ll say I let out too many, even of this parish, I’m thinkin’.”
“But,” says the priest, “ye might have got two hundred pounds for aich of us.”
“If aich had two hundhred pounds, what comfort would I have in being rich?” axed Darby agin. “To enjoy well being rich there should be plenty of poor,” says Darby. ”

“ At that Darby, smiling high and knowledgeable, made answer over the heads of the crowd.
“God help your sinse, honest man!” he says. “Around the favours of thim same three wishes is a bog of thricks an’ cajoleries and con-ditions that’ll defayt the wisest.
“First of all, if the look be taken from the little cobbler for as much as the wink of an eye, he’s gone forever,” he says. “Man alive, even when he does grant the favours of the three wishes, you’re not safe, for, if you tell anyone you’ve seen the Leprechaun, the favours melt like snow, or if you make a fourth wish that day—whiff! ”

“ Well, the argyment got hotter and hotter until Darby’s mind was in splinthers. Sometimes he sided with Ould Nick, sometimes he was agin him. Half of what they said he didn’t undherstand. They talked Tayology, Conchology, and Distrology, they hammered aich other with Jayography, Orthography, and Misnography, they welted aich other with Hylosophy, Philosophy, and Thrimosophy. They bounced up and down in their sates, they shouted and got purple in the face. But every argyment brought out another nearly as good and twict as loud. ”

“ Cormac, the poor lad, was sobbing like a child. By-and-by Eileen wint on again, but her woice was failing an’ Darby could see that her cheeks were wet.
“The day’ll come when you’ll give over,” she says. “Ah, I see how it’ll all ind. Afther that you’ll visit the churchyard be stealth, so as not to make the other woman sore-hearted.”
“My, oh, my, isn’t she the far-seein’ woman?” thought Darby.
“Little childher’ll come,” she says, “an’ their soft, warm arrums will hould you away. ”

“ But you must be patient and wise and wait.”
“I will so, with the help of God,” says Darby.
At these words Maureen gave a terrible screech.
“Cruel man!” she cried, “don’t you know that to say pious words to one of the Good People, or to one undher their black charm, is like cutting him with a knife?”
The next night she came to Darby again.
“Watch yerself now,” she says, “for to-night they’re goin’ to lave the door of the mountain open to thry you; and if you stir two steps outside they’ll put the comeither on you,” she says. ”

“ The banshee spoke in a hollow woice, which once in a while’d break into a squeak.
“Let bygones be bygones, ma’am, if you plaze,” says Darby, “an’ I’ve brought back yer comb, an’ by your lave I ax the favour of three wishes,” says he.
Some way or other he wasn’t so afeared now that the King was near, an’ besides one square, cool look at any kind of throuble—even if ’tis a ghost—takes half the dhread from it.
“I have only two favours to grant any mortial man,” says she, “an’ here they are.” With that she handed Darby two small black stones with things carved on thim. ”

“ But now that’s the laste I’ll do to you!”
“Faith,” says Darby, “if I was with the fairies, ’tis no less than you are this minute, an’ if you eggspose me, I’ll eggspose you!” With that Darby up and tould what was the cause of the whole botheration.
His Riverence, afther the telling, waited not a minute, but kicked the spurs into Terror, and the brave horse headed once more for shore. ’Twas no use. The poor baste turned at last with a cry and floundhered back agin into the mire. ”

“ Whin it’s the proud woman she ought to be this day to have the likes of me for a husband,” says Darby. “Ah, then, you ought to be the happy man, whatever wind blows,” he sighed again; “when you see a fat pig you like, you take it without so much as saying by your lave; if you come upon a fine cow or a good horse, in a twinkling you have it in Sleive-na-mon. A girl has a good song with her, a boy has a nimble foot for a jig, or an ould woman a smooth tongue for a tale, and, whisk! ”

“ The King took off his goold crown and began polishing it with his sleeve to hide his narvousness. “I’ll tell you a saycret,” he whuspered, bending over toward Darby, and speaking slow. “In Sleive-na-mon our hearts are just breaking for something we can’t get; but that’s one thing we’d give the worruld for.”
“Oh, King, what in the livin’ worruld can it be?” cried Maureen.
“I’d give the teeth out of me head if I could only own a goat,” says the King, looking as though he were going to cry.
“Man alive!” ”

“ With that they marched our bould Darby, a prisoner, down the long passage, which every second grew wider and lighter and fuller of little people.
Sometimes, though, he met with human beings like himself, only the black charm was on them, they having been stolen at some time by the Good People. He saw lost people there from every parish in Ireland, both commoners and gentry. ”

“ First Darby grew oncomfortable, then he felt insulted to be cried at that way be a total sthranger. An’ as the tears rowled faster an’ faster, an’ the sobs came louder an’ louder, an’ the ugly eyes kep’ leering at him affectionate, he grew hot with indignaytion. ”

“ He’d do anything for sport; he’d bunt the King of Russia, he’d ba-a at a parish priest, out of pure, rollicking divilment,” says the King. “If the Good People had a friend, a rale friend,” says he, looking hard at Darby, “that wouldn’t be afeard to go into our home within the mountain once more, just once, and bring with him that goat⸺”
“Say no more,” says Darby, hoarsely, and turning white with fear—“say no more, Brian Connors! Not all the goold in Sleive-na-mon would tempt me there agin! It’s make a presner of me for ever you would. I know your thricks.” ”

“ Illustration: “Lit his pipe, and let his mind go free”
“I want the castle set on this hill—the Divil's Pillow—where we two stand,” says Darby. Then sweeping with his arm, he says, “I want the land about to be my demesne.”
The Leprechaun stuck his awl on the ground. “That wish I give you, that wish I grant you,” he says. With that he straightened himself up, and grinning most aggravatin' the while, he looked Darby over from top to toe. “You're a foine, knowledgeable man, but have a care of the fourth wish!” says he. ”

“ To make matters more onsociable, his friend, Brian Connors, the King of the Fairies, hadn’t showed a nose inside Darby’s door for more than a fortnit; so the knowledgeable man had no one to adwise with. ”

“ The dhriver wore a brown greatcoat, the lines hung limp in his fingers, an’ Darby’s heart sthopped palpitaytin’ at the sight of the two broad, headless chowlders.
The knowledgeable man sthrove to cry out agin, but he could only croak like a raven. ”

“ Whatever else you do, rayspect the sintimintalities—there all we have to live for, ghost or mortial,” says he.
So, grumbling, Darby took a place within the coach beside his friend. He filled his poipe, an’ was borrying a bit of fire from that of the King, whin looking up he saw just back of the dhriver’s seat, and opening into the carriage, a square hole of about the height an’ the width of yer two hands. An’ set agin the hole, starin’ affectionate down at him, was the head, an’ it smiling langwidging. ”

“ As they came near the first hill along its sides the evening twilight turned from purple to brown, and at the top of the Pig’s Head the darkness of a black night swooped suddenly down on them. Darby hurried on a step or two ahead, an’ resting his hand upon the large rock that crowns the hill, looked anxiously over to the Divil’s Pillow. ”

“ If we keep hoping for the best, we’ll chate the worst out of a few good hours at any rate,” says the knowledgeable man.
But Bridget only rowled the apron about her folded arms and shook her head sorrowful at the fire. Darby squinted carefully down the stem of his pipe, blew in it, took a sly glance at his wife, and wint on:
“Don’t you raymember, Bridget,” he says, “whin ould Mrs. Rafferty lay sick of a bad informaytion of the stomick; well, the banshee sat for a full hour keening an’ cryin’ before their house—just as it did last night outside Cormac McCarthy’s. ”