The Irish Fairy Book Part 35

The Mad Pudding of Ballyboulteen

"Moll Roe Rafferty, the daughter of ould Jack Rafferty, was a fine young bouncin' girl, large an' lavish, wid a purty head of hair on her like scarlet, that bein' one of the raisons why she was called _Roe_ or red; her arms and cheeks were much the colour of the hair, an' her saddle nose was the purtiest thing of its kind that ever was on a face.

"Well, anyhow, it was Moll Rafferty that was the _dilsy_. It happened that there was a nate vagabone in the neighbourhood, just as much overburdened wid beauty as herself, and he was named Gusty Gillespie.

Gusty was what they call a black-mouth Prosbytarian, and wouldn't keep Christmas day, except what they call 'ould style.' Gusty was rather good-lookin', when seen in the dark, as well as Moll herself; anyhow, they got attached to each other, and in the end everything was arranged for their marriage.

"Now this was the first marriage that had happened for a long time in the neighbourhood between a Prodestant and a Catholic, and faix, there was one of the bride's uncles, ould Harry Connolly, a fairyman, who could cure all complaints wid a secret he had, and as he didn't wish to see his niece married on sich a fellow, he fought bittherly against the match. All Moll's friends, however, stood up for the marriage, barrin'

him, and, of coorse, the Sunday was appointed, as I said, that they were to be dove-tailed together.

"Well, the day arrived, and Moll, as became her, went to ma.s.s, and Gusty to meeting, afther which they were to join one another in Jack Rafferty's, where the priest, Father Mc. Sorley, was to slip up afther ma.s.s to take his dinner wid them, and to keep Misther Mc. Shuttle, who was to marry them, company. n.o.body remained at home but ould Jack Rafferty an' his wife, who stopped to dress the dinner, for, to tell the truth, it was to be a great let-out entirely. Maybe, if all was known, too, Father Mc. Sorley was to give them a cast of his office over and above the ministher, in regard that Moll's friends were not altogether satisfied at the kind of marriage which Mc. Shuttle could give them. The sorrow may care about that--splice here, splice there--all I can say is that when Mrs. Rafferty was goin' to tie up a big bag pudden, in walks Harry Connolly, the fairyman, in a rage, and shouts out, 'Blood and blunderbushes, what are yez here for?'

"'Arrah, why, Harry? Why, avick?'

"'Why, the sun's in the suds, and the moon in the high Horricks; there's a clip-stick comin' on, and there you're both as unconsarned as if it was about to rain mether. Go out, an' cross yourselves three times in the name o' the four Mandromarvins, for as prophecy says:--"Fill the pot, Eddy, supernaculum--a blazing star's a rare spectaculum." Go out, both of you, an' look at the sun, I say, an' ye'll see the condition he's in--off!'

"Begad, sure enough, Jack gave a bounce to the door, and his wife leaped like a two-year-ould, till they were both got on a stile beside the house to see what was wrong in the sky.

"'Arrah, what is it, Jack?' says she, 'can you see anything?'

"'No,' says he, 'sorra the full of my eye of anything I can spy, barrin'

the sun himself, that's not visible, in regard of the clouds. G.o.d guard us! I doubt there's something to happen.'

"'If there wasn't Jack, what'd put Harry, that knows so much, in the state he's in?'

"'I doubt it's this marriage,' says Jack. 'Betune ourselves, it's not over an' above religious of Moll to marry a black-mouth, an' only for--; but, it can't be helped now, though you see it's not a taste o' the sun is willin' to show his face upon it.'

"'As to that,' says his wife, winkin' with both her eyes, 'if Gusty's satisfied wid Moll, it's enough. I know who'll carry the whip hand, anyhow; but in the manetime let us ax Harry within what ails the sun?'

"Well, they accordianly went in, and put this question to him, 'Harry, what's wrong, ahagur? What is it now, for if anybody alive knows 'tis yourself?'

"'Ah,' said Harry, screwin' his mouth wid a kind of a dry smile, 'the sun has a hard twist o' the colic; but never mind that, I tell you, you'll have a merrier weddin' than you think, that's all'; and havin'

said this, he put on his hat and left the house.

"Now, Harry's answer relieved them very much, and so, afther callin' to him to be back for dinner, Jack sat down to take a shough o' the pipe, and the wife lost no time in tying up the pudden, and puttin' it in the pot to be boiled.

"In this way things went on well enough for a while, Jack smokin' away, an' the wife cookin' an' dhressin' at the rate of a hunt. At last, Jack, while sittin', as I said, contentedly at the fire, thought he could persave an odd dancin' kind of motion in the pot that puzzled him a good deal.

"'Katty,' says he, 'what the d.i.c.kens is in this pot on the fire?'

"'Nerra thing but the big pudden. Why do you ax?' says she.

"'Why,' says he, 'if ever a pot tuck it into its head to dance a jig, and this did. Thundher and sparbles, look at it!'

"Begad, and it was thrue enough; there was the pot bobbin' up an' down, and from side to side, jiggin' it away as merry as a grig; an' it was quite aisy to see that it wasn't the pot itself, but what was inside of it, that brought about the hornpipe.

"'Be the hole o' my coat,' shouted Jack, 'there's somethin' alive in it, or it would niver cut sich capers!'

"'Begorra, there is, Jack; somethin' sthrange entirely has got into it.

Wirra, man alive, what's to be done?'

"Jist as she spoke the pot seemed to cut the buckle in prime style, and afther a spring that'd shame a dancin' masther, off flew the lid, and out bounced the pudden itself, hoppin' as nimble as a pea on a drum-head about the floor. Jack blessed himself, and Katty crossed herself. Jack shouted, and Katty screamed. 'In the name of goodness, keep your distance; no one here injured you!'

"The pudden, however, made a set at him, and Jack lepped first on a chair, and then on the kitchen table, to avoid it. It then danced towards Katty, who was repatin' her prayers at the top of her voice, while the cunnin' thief of a pudden was hoppin' an' jiggin' it around her as if it was amused at her distress.

"'If I could get the pitchfork,' says Jack, 'I'd dale wid it--by goxty, I'd thry its mettle.'

"'No, no,' shouted Katty, thinking there was a fairy in it; 'let us spake it fair. Who knows what harm it might do? Aisy, now,' says she to the pudden, 'aisy, dear; don't harm honest people that never meant to offend you. It wasn't us--no, in troth, it was ould Harry Connolly that bewitched you; pursue _him_, if you wish, but spare a woman like me!'

"The pudden, bedad, seemed to take her at her word, and danced away from her towards Jack, who, like the wife, believin' there was a fairy in it, an' that spakin' it fair was the best plan, thought he would give it a soft word as well as her.

"'Plase your honour,' said Jack, 'she only spaiks the truth, an' upon my voracity, we both feels much oblaiged to you for your quietness. Faith, it's quite clear that if you weren't a gentlemanly pudden, all out, you'd act otherwise. Ould Harry, the rogue, is your mark; he's jist gone down the road there, and if you go fast you'll overtake him. Be my song, your dancin'-masther did his duty, anyway. Thank your honour! G.o.d speed you, and may you niver meet wid a parson or alderman in your thravels.'

"Jist as Jack spoke, the pudden appeared to take the hint, for it quietly hopped out, and as the house was directly on the roadside, turned down towards the bridge, the very way that ould Harry went. It was very natural, of coorse, that Jack and Katty should go out to see how it intended to thravel, and as the day was Sunday, it was but natural, too, that a greater number of people than usual were pa.s.sin'

the road. This was a fact; and when Jack and his wife were seen followin' the pudden, the whole neighbourhood was soon up and afther it.

"'Jack Rafferty, what is it? Katty, ahagur, will you tell us what it manes?'

"'Why,' replied Katty, 'it's my big pudden that's bewitched, an' it's out hot foot pursuin''--here she stopped, not wis.h.i.+n' to mention her brother's name--'_someone_ or other that surely put _pishrogues_[3] an it.'

"This was enough; Jack, now seein' that he had a.s.sistance, found his courage comin' back to him; so says he to Katty, 'Go home,' says he, 'an' lose no time in makin' another pudden as good, an' here's Paddy Scanlan's wife, Bridget, says she'll let you boil it on her fire, as you'll want our own to dress the rest of the dinner; and Paddy himself will lend me a pitchfork for purshuin' to the morsel of that same pudden will escape, till I let the wind out of it, now that I've the neighbours to back an' support me,' says Jack.

"This was agreed to, an' Katty went back to prepare a fresh pudden, while Jack an' half the townland pursued the other wid spades, graips, pitchforks, scythes, flails, and all possible description of instruments. On the pudden went, however, at the rate of about six Irish miles an hour, an' sich a chase was never seen. Catholics, Prodestants, and Prosbytarians were all afther it, armed, as I said, an' bad end to the thing, but its own activity could save it. Here it made a hop, there a prod was made at it; but off it went, and someone, as eager to get a slice at it on the other side, got the prod instead of the pudden. Big Frank Farrell, the miller, of Ballyboulteen, got a prod backwards that brought a hullabulloo out of him that you might hear at the other end of the parish. One got a slice of a scythe, another a whack of a flail, a third a rap of a spade, that made him look nine ways at wanst.

"'Where is it goin'?' asked one. 'My life for you, it's on its way to Meeting. Three cheers for it, if it turns to Carntaul!' 'Prod the sowl out of it if it's a Prodestan'' shouted the others; 'if it turns to the left, slice it into pancakes. We'll have no Prodestan' puddens here.'

"Begad, by this time the people were on the point of beginnin' to have a regular fight about it, when, very fortunately, it took a short turn down a little by-lane that led towards the Methodist praychin'-house, an' in an instant all parties were in an uproar against it as a Methodist pudden. 'It's a Wesleyan,' shouted several voices; 'an' by this an' by that, into a Methodist chapel it won't put a foot to-day, or we'll lose a fall. Let the wind out of it. Come, boys, where's your pitchforks?'

"The divle purshuin' to the one of them, however, ever could touch the pudden, and jist when they thought they had it up against the gavel of the Methodist chapel, begad, it gave them the slip, and hops over to the left, clane into the river, and sails away before their eyes as light as an egg-sh.e.l.l.

"Now, it so happened that a little below this place the desmesne wall of Colonel Bragshaw was built up to the very edge of the river on each side of its banks; and so, findin' there was a stop put to their pursuit of it, they went home again, every man, woman, and child of them, puzzled to think what the pudden was at all, what it meant, or where it was goin'! Had Jack Rafferty an' his wife been willin' to let out the opinion they held about Henry Connolly bewitchin' it, there is no doubt of it but poor Harry might be badly trated by the crowd, when their blood was up. They had sense enough, howaniver, to keep that to themselves, for Harry bein' an ould bachelor, was a kind friend to the Raffertys. So, of coorse, there was all kinds of talk about it--some guessin' this, an' some guessin' that--one party sayin' the pudden was of their side, and another denyin' it, an' insisting it belonged to them, an' so on.

"In the meantime, Katty Rafferty, for 'fraid the dinner might come short, went home and made another pudden much about the same size as the one that had escaped, an' bringin' it over to their next neighbour, Paddy Scanlan's, it was put into a pot, and placed on the fire to boil, hopin' that it might be done in time, espis.h.i.+lly as they were to have the ministher, who loved a warm slice of a good pudden as well as e'er a gentleman in Europe.

"Anyhow, the day pa.s.sed; Moll and Gusty were made man an' wife, an' no two could be more lovin'. Their friends that had been asked to the weddin' were saunterin' about in pleasant little groups till dinner-time, chattin' an' laughin'; but above all things, sthrivin' to account for the figaries of the pudden; for, to tell the truth, its adventures had now gone through the whole parish.

"Well, at any rate, dinner-time was drawin' near, and Paddy Scanlan was sittin' comfortably wid his wife at the fire, the pudden boilin' before their eyes, when in walks Harry Connolly in a flutter, shoutin', 'Blood and blunderbushes, what are yez here for?'

"'Arrah, why, Harry--why, avick?' said Mrs. Scanlan.

"'Why,' said Harry, 'the sun's in the suds, an' the moon in the high Horricks! Here's a clipstick comin' on, an' there you sit as unconsarned as if it was about to rain mether! Go out, both of you, an' look at the sun, I say, an' ye'll see the condition he's in--off!'

"'Ay, but, Harry, what's that rowled up in the tail of your cothamore (big coat)?'

"'Out wid yez,' says Harry, 'an' pray aginst the clipstick--the sky's fallin'!'

"Begad, it was hard to say whether Paddy or the wife got out first, they were so much alarmed by Harry's wild, thin face and piercin' eyes; so out they went to see what was wonderful in the sky, an' kep lookin' an'

lookin' in every direction, but not a thing was to be seen, barrin' the sun s.h.i.+nin' down wid great good-humour, an' not a single cloud in the sky.