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Show t , i I IRISH CHARACTER SKETCHES. "Is there a letter for Phil Maguire, ir?" i "There are two Phil Maguires; which jne do you mean?" i "I mane the wan that lives near Me- lia's bush, the wan that's not the tailor." "Well, bay, tell Phil Maguire that lives near Melia's bush, that James O'Brien presents his compliments, and ' s corry to say there is no letter. It ; Kill come in good time, though, every thing comes to him who waits. Good-. Good-. 3ay, my boy, and next time you come ; Tor a letter remember there's a foot scraper outside the door, and that this s one of her majesty's postofUces." . I never knew a more serious-minded man than James O'Brien. Tall and itately, with a clean-shaven, severe !ace, on which the words serious mental men-tal strain were visibly written. I never looked at him but I was reminded of a ' rabinet minister. Totally taken up Mth the cares of a village postoffice, vhich at the most arc but triiflng, you A'ould Imagine, to see the way James D'Brien transacted his business, that ncry postoffice in the world depended jpon that unslgnilicant one in the vll-! vll-! nge that I write about. Except to take ais meals, he never quitted it. and none, I 1 ven his own family, were allowed ever ;o enter it on any pretext whatever. If 5 i person called for a letter, the door tvhioh separated the postofllce from the : ; kitchen was slightly opened and James' had appeared in the slit thus formed nd, after many formal inquiries about the name, and every letter in the name, j the place of residence, and so forth, the i letter was handed over to the messen- I per. And, goodness gracious, if you ' wanted a. postal order or money order, i ou might make up your mind to a I May of at least two hours in the kitch- rn while he made it out for you. and while you waited, if you had your ears : open you could hear the sounH of i opening books, the names of head of- ! ' ficcs and local offices, and more sharp raps of the postoffice seal than were ever given In the general postoffice in Dublin in a day. When the mail car ; arrived In the morning, the driver, Jack , MeCormick. or Garibaldi, as he was I called, carried the mall bag to the post- i ' oflice window, and James, opening the t window, would take In that mail bag ; with as much care and ceremony as if I it contained the whole bullion of the Bank of England, though, in reality, it ! never contained more than a dozen let- , tens and some newspapers. Laying the i mail bag on the counter, James would ' consult his watch and put MeCormick through his facings in this way, while i he put down the latter's reply to his ; questions In a blue book: "You are two hours late, MeCormick, t with her majesty's mails; what Is the reason?" "It was an hour after me time afore - t I lfft the general postoffice in D , tor. They were busy, an' endn't find me mail among all the hampers," or, "The shoeing kem off me wheel, an' I had to wait at Cassidy's forge to fix it," or, "The roads wor like ice an' I had to walk Charley (the horse) the whole way." "You should be more punctual with ' her majesty's mails. Have you a book?" Yis. sor, I have." "Well, enter in it the cause of your delay, and the exact time of your stops, lest anything may turn up, and you have to defend yourself. I must do my duty. MeCormick, an important post like mine has its duties, and though , sometimes it may be unpleasant for me : to perform them, still I must. For goodness good-ness saks, MeCormick, fix that tie of yours. If there's anything I dislike, it's untidiness in public servants, and D iu ujin iai uu nons gone on vour coat Now. MeCormick, see to these things at once, for you owe it to the dignity of the postoffice and me." f : . "Yis. sor, 1 11 see to thim at wa.nst," i I Bn3 MeCormick would turn away rnut- l tering: :i Ece to me insides first an him ? an' hls dignities can wait until there's B. blue moon." "Every time I expect a letter, an maybe it's wanst in tin years I get '"van," says Jim Scully, speaking on one occasion to the group around him 1 "the morning that I expect it, I have I to Put on me Sunday suit, an polish I meself up, on' thin whin I go into the : postoffice I have to bow an' scrape, an' unless I give me full name, James Michael Scully, I'd never git it. why they put Michael on me, I don't know, : for I'm thinkin there's very little ov i ' Ihe archangil about me, bud whether there is or not. I have to sound out J Michael, wud all the stringth in me i morthial system, afore I get the let- ' ter." 1 "Well, to give O'Brien his due, boys," I replies Jack MoCormick. in answer to I Scully's remark, "I'm driving the mail I "car now for twelve years, an' though I . I w as late always, an' never early, an f ! not over perlite (polite) In me conver- f eahuns, he never reported, bud whin I f the mane scut of a postmaster at Clo- i I nefn did (the postmaster wud the de ll f ceitf ul smile, an' ye"re a good fellow), I O'Brien tuk me part an' said I was a J f living evample ov Irregularity (regu- I j larity). As a boy I never dreaded any 1 i fne more than James O'Brien, the I ' postmaster. The very look of him froze me, and I believed he belonged to different earth to ours. He passed us it our play with hie head in the air I ind a severe frown on his face; he ram? to church on the Sundays, and i his walk and gait was verily puritan- I leal; he sat bold upright in his seat, 1 without the least movement of the . I - body, and, my gracious, his salute to Father Tom or Father Denis was as j . elaborate and as ceremonial as any I courtier at the court of a Louis. I I never saw him laugh, and it seemed I that the weight of her majesty's busi ness precluded the very semblance of a fmile. James O'Brien was once asked to Join the United Irish League, and before making answer he took down the postoffice regulations and, pointing to a rule there which prohibited him from taking part in such assemblies, he said, grandly: 1" "Are you tired of your postmas ter?" "No," came the answer. 1i "Well, up to this I have obeyed the letter of the postoffice regulations, and though my heart is all for old Ireland's Ire-land's welfare, as long as I occupy myi present position, I cannot join your society, so-ciety, but here is my subscription (tendering a pound), and every year I will give the same sum", and you can seay it came from Rony O'Moore," and he drummed with his fingers on the kitchen table. "Right hearty was the welcome that , greeted him. I ween: I For years gone by he fully proved how iwell he loved the Green: And there was one among them who who grasped him by the hand, One who through all that weary time j roamed on a foreign strand; I He brought them news from gallant ? friends that made their heartstrings thrill 5 " 'My bowI! I never doubted them!' f said Rory of the Hill." t I - f ( One evening Jim Scully, Phil Ma-guire, Ma-guire, Bryan Casey and a few more old cronies were discussing the success of a French invasion of Ireland if it were made. "I tell yez, boys." says Phil Maguire, laying a finger of the right hand very prudently on the palm of the left, "we'd get at laist two hundred good mln from the parish, an' I'd be the very first to Jine. bud the difficulty wud be, who wud we constitute our laider." "There's only wan man that cud lead us, an' he's a Bony (Bonapertaee) In his way." replied Jim Scully, "an' that's the postmaster. I'd follow him. boys, across the land ov Egypt an' the Red sea iy he'd only lead me, for in him is no decepshun, an he has the courage of a lion. He'd make a born gineral ov min." From that day forward the postmaster postmas-ter was called the "gineral," and Jim Scully's words were true to the letter about James O'Brien, our village postmaster. post-master. "In him there was no deception, decep-tion, and he had the truth of his convictions. con-victions. Severe and stem as. 1 thought him, when a boy, I know now he was sincere and honest, and a man. BY CABIN. Next week "The Sergeant." |