The Whale and the Grasshopper Part 3

"There will be always trouble while women are allowed to have their own way and their husbands' money."

"There's no sentiment in women."

"None whatever, but they are all able to act and play any part that the exigencies of the occasion may require, and that's better than having an abundance of sentiment or any other quality that hinders one's progress in a world of hypocrisy and conventionality."

"'Tis the great flow of words you have, to be sure, not to say a word about your common-sense. Was it from reading books that you got all your knowledge?"

"It wasn't, indeed, but from observing the ways of all the strange creatures on the face of the earth from man to the ants."

"The world is a queer place. Nothing but war of some kind or other while you're alive and peace only when you're dead, and then there may be no peace either, for all we know."

"'Tis thinking I am that you're right, and if you'll listen, I'll tell you what happened as I was sauntering about by myself last night."

"I'll listen, to be sure," said Peep.

"Well," said Johnny, "as I was walking along by the Faery Fort, I heard some one singing, so I quickened my pace and came upon two strange looking gentlemen who were marching to the tune of 'Home, Sweet Home.' And when I ses: 'Good night,' they answered back and ses: 'Good night kindly, sir,' ses they. 'Who may we have the pleasure of talking to?' 'To Johnny Moonlight,' ses I. 'And who may I be talking to?' 'Don't you know us,' says they altogether. 'Erra, of course I do,'

ses I. 'Who would ye be but Oliver Cromwell and the Devil himself? And what may ye be doing here?'

"'We're on our way home after a trip to Europe,' ses the Devil, 'and we'd be glad to have the pleasure of your company.'

"'Your kindness is embarra.s.sing,' ses I. 'Indeed I couldn't think of accepting such hospitality.'

"'Well, you can go to Belgium for all I care,' ses the Devil. 'But clear out of me sight, anyway, or I'll hand you over to me friend Oliver.' So with that they sat down on a ditch and commenced talking, and I stole up behind, and this is what I heard:

"'I'm homesick,' ses Cromwell.

"'So am I,' ses the Devil, 'and disappointed too. Europe is in a bad way, G.o.d help us!'

"'Indeed it is, and I don't think we ought to tell Napoleon anything about what we saw."

"''Twould only spoil his conceit to think that the world could be in such a condition and he not there to share in the glory.'

"''Tisn't talking about Napoleon I'd be, if I were you. Sure it's yourself has fallen on evil days. You thought that you could have a nice quiet holiday for yourself in Europe, but your nerves couldn't stand all the horrors of the war, so you must needs hurry home to recuperate and look after your own people,' ses Cromwell.

"'I can stand as much as you at any time,' ses the Devil.

"'Well, you must not have read the history of Ireland,' ses Cromwell.

"'And if I didn't, do you think I'd have you for a companion? I'm as good a man as you ever were,' ses the Devil.

"'You may be as good,' ses Cromwell, 'but I'll acknowledge no superiority from you or any one else.'

"'It don't look well for us to be quarreling, Oliver,' ses the Devil.

"'That's true. We should always be a source of comfort and consolation to each other. And we will, too. Indeed, it isn't fair to us to have Ireland as she is these times.'

"'What's wrong now?' ses the Devil.

"'Wisha, nothing in particular,' ses Cromwell.

"'Ireland has always been a great bother to myself and England,'

ses the Devil.

"'She has never helped us, more's the pity,' ses Cromwell.

"'And 'tis yourself made a great impression on the minds of the Irish people,' ses the Devil.

"'Indeed and I did,' ses Cromwell, 'and on the English people too, and sure there's no one better known at home than ourselves.'

"'Well,' ses the Devil, ''tis said that a man only gets as much as he deserves, except when he's married. And no man is a prophet in his own country.'

"'True!' ses Cromwell. 'The eaten loaf is soon forgotten, and the English people would forget me if they could.'

"'Don't worry,' says the Devil. 'The Irish will never allow them to do that.'

"'I suppose my memory will be always kept green by the Irish,'

ses Cromwell.

"'Of course,' ses the Devil. 'Of course it will. And what greater proof can you have of the inconsistency of mankind?'

"'There's nothing more consistent than man's inconsistency,' ses Cromwell.

"'Except woman's, of course,' ses the Devil. 'Sure I can't understand the creatures at all.'

"'I'm glad to hear you say so,' ses Cromwell, 'because if we could understand them, there would be no more surprises left for us.'"

"You have a wonderful memory, Johnny," said Peep, "an' I'll be glad to hear the remainder of your story when the moon sails over the hills again. I'll be off now, for the sun is rising, and I must be alone to enjoy myself."

"G.o.d speed you," ses Johnny. "Two is a crowd when a man's feeling sleepy."

THE VALLEY OF THE DEAD

Large dark clouds, lined and fringed with a snowy whiteness, were floating about in a starry sky, when Padna Dan vacated his chair by the glowing hearth, where f.a.ggots blazed and a kettle sang, and where his large black dog and small white cat lay asleep and snored in chorus that made a strange harmony with the crackling of the dried oak branches in the grate. When he reached the half door, the moon was hiding behind a rift of cloud; and as he watched it emerge from its hiding place and sail into a starlit region, he up and said:

"Sure 'tis myself that's like the moon, with my goings in and my comings out, and with my exits and my entrances, and the glory that sometimes does be on my brow and the shadows that at other times hide my face. Sometimes not a single thing hinders my progress, from c.o.c.k-crow to sundown, and other times everything capable of disturbing a man's peace and quiet confronts me at every turn. But, nevertheless, I manage to steer clear of all obstacles and evade all that might upset me in any way, and show a smiling face to the world, like the moon itself."

And then he filled a new clay pipe, that came all the way from France, and was presented to him by his youngest granddaughter, as a birthday gift, and sauntered along the boreen towards the Valley of the Dead. And as he wended his lonely way, without looking to the right or the left, and trampled down the tall gra.s.s that the sleeping cows, and the sleeping sheep, and the sleeping donkeys were dreaming about,--the very same tall gra.s.s that on the morrow they would greedily feast on,--and as his footfalls startled wandering rabbits, badgers, hares, and foxes, and they roaming from place to place at the dead of night, he only thought of the world beyond the stars and of those who had gone to dwell there. And so eerie an atmosphere did he create about himself that he might have been a fairy or an elf without care or sorrow for the past or future, but a love of the things that be. And not until he reached the top of a high hill, from which he could see in the moonlight the towering spires of distant churches, where a red light is always kept burning before the high altars, did he stand and rest. And he did not sit down until he found a comfortable seat on a projecting ledge of rock, overlooking a long winding valley covered with larch and beech trees, sloe and crabapple, and all kinds of th.o.r.n.y underwood.

The rising mist, as it spread through the trees along the serpentine course of the valley, seemed like some fabulous monster devouring all that came in its way. And as he sat with his feet dangling in the air, the sound of familiar footsteps caused him to look from the mist to where the sound came from near by. And lo and behold! whom did he see but his old friend Micus. And what he said, before Micus had time to say anything at all, or get over his surprise, was: