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Show j IRISH CHARACTER SKETCHES. The Ragman. Like many othor old trades in Ireland, Ire-land, that of the ragman has died out. The village that I write about hears no longer the hiRh-pitched squeaking voice of Kody Flynn singing out: "Gather up; gather up ould rags an' bones. In exchange I'll give yell precious stones." Many a time and oft in my young j days have I heard those words, and many a time and oft Rody, with his donkey and eart creep slowly along from house to house selling his wares and giving in exchange pins and needles, cups and saucers, brooches and other cheap articles too numerous to mention. Kody at the time of AVtiich I write was about 63, and the name by which he was known to the people was "The Lamentation," and certainly he looked that name all over. Tall and gaunt, with hollow cheeks, small eyes sunk in the head almost wholly concealed con-cealed beneath shubby eyebrows, a decided de-cided stoop in the back, and hair failing fail-ing over his shoulders, he reminded you of one of those preachers of woe whom we sometimes see In the streets of our modern cities. His dress was in keep ing with his facial appearance. A shabby shab-by broad rimmed soft hat was set tightly on his head, and tied with a piece of twine to the collar of a still : shabbier coat which descended below his knees. Boots far too big, with more nails in the soles than would plate a warship, displayed all their symmetry and beauty beneath corduroy trousers tightly tucked around the calf of the leg with two pieces of hay rope. Such was the man, but the donkey and cart well, I can't describe them, for I would not know where to begin; they were all confusion. The harness was patched and patched until it was all a patch, the cart had but one shaft, and the body, what body it had, was very ladylike lady-like (it was all stays), and supported I on two wheels, one of which was twice : as large as the other. The donkey, small and one mass of long hair, crept ; along at a snail's pace. Jim Scully, al- ; ways good at nomenclature, called Rody's donkey Balim (Balaam), a name which Rody resented very much, for he imagined that there was no animal ani-mal within the four seas the equal of his beast of burden, and Tara's Pride was the appellation Rody gave him. I eee Rody, donkey and cart, come slowly slow-ly up the village. Rody leads the procession pro-cession by about a perch. His head is Etooped and his eyes are cast on the around with his hands .ioined piously in front. On Rody's heels come about twenty children, some of them clinging at his coat tails and some of them urg-. urg-. ing the donkey on with a plentiful application ap-plication of long sally rods. Above the babble of voices you hear such expressions expres-sions as these: -"Lamentation, yen promised me a top - ' wud a gold head. Have yen it for me?" ? "Teh said ye'd give me a. rale Vic toria brooch the next time yen came. "Whero is ft?" "Ould Lamentation. Neddie Manning ' "is cuttin' the buttins out ov yer coat, j Ketch him." "Tommy Reilly is tyin' strings to ver -? tail." Rody plods his way on and heeds not the voices of mischief. The only an- swer he gives is the high-pitched screech: "Gather up. gather up ould rags and ,' bones, In exchange I'll give yeh precious stones." This last outburst has brought Cauth Mulready to her door and, pushing i back the stray gray hairs from her eyes, she cries out: I "Rody, have yeh any darnin' nee- ' i dies?" " "Yer very gracious pardin. ma'am. bud I'm a little hard ov hearin'," and Rody's hand is placed behind his ear. "Iv I was shoutin' money at yeh, yeh i f wudn't be hard ov hearin", Mr. Rody I Flynn." ; "She's axin yeh." cries out the voice ' of Jim Scully, from a garden opposite, "the good woman is axin yeh, Rody J '.' Flynn, cud yeh give her two ov yer J Queen Victoria brooches, wan set in ; jewils an' the other in pearls at a helf- penny each; she wants to put the Com- methur (win the heart) on Barney Lar- kin, the sweep." j ; "I'm rale sorry I can't oblige yeh. ft J,rs- Mulready, be givin' thim to yeh ') at a halfpenny each. I'll have to charge I '- 1 eh at least three halfpence, bud they i ? are dirt cheap at that, for the gould ? ( chap is bewitching in its shape an' i make, an' it won't brake until the day ! i ov judgmint, an' God help us whin that i day comes an' make us prepared tor it." "T wasn't axin yeh for yer fiddlesticks I ov brooches, Rody Flynn." and the now 5 irate Cauth advances from her door ' , and stands with her hands on her hips ; in front of Rody, "an I'll have yeh to know, too, that me morals are as bright : as a new pin, an' that I'd sooner marry it the haythen king ov Morocco than f j , Barney Larkin. I was axin yell for I darnin needles, an' " ! i "Troth, thin, Mrs. Mulready, I have j I three different samples ov darnin nee- f dies, wan for silk, an' another for lace, I j an" "Teh can keep yer samples, for I ? wudn't buy the lingth ov me nail from si ' r : a rnan that insulted me. Be off wud ? yeh now, Mr. Rody Flynn, an' the next ! ' time yeh pass me house keep a quiet t tongue in yer head, or I'll take an ac- tion agin yeh for me character, a. clane woman like me, Indeed, to marry a I sweep." The procession advances again, only to be brought to a standstill a perch : or fo further on by a voice "Have yeh any Beechims pills this mornin', Rody?" I. "Yis, ma'am. I'm happy to say I have. I I was out ov thim the last time I was I around, but I have a plentiful supply now; they'll cure all yer complaints ! from infiammashun ov yer back teeth I to a. corn on yer big toe. I take wan j now an' agin mesclf, for the good ov trade, an' I be jumpin' out ov me skin after it. Shut yer eyes, ma'am, an' thin swallow it, an' iv it sticks in. yer windpipe wind-pipe a mouthful ov water will relieve yeh in wan minute. Phil Maguire bought two boxes from nie awhile ago. xu lit- rd.vh nt- ii nave mini an taken 4 afore night. They are. he tells me, the gratest cure for baldness that he knows." Another advance and a stop, and "Rody, have yeh any mugs to sell this mornin'?" I "I have, indeed, ma'am, jugs that I are useful for sow! an' body. They are i able to hould three cups ov tay, an' s that's a good thing for the body, an t outside on thim is the image ov the i divil dancln' in an eastern gardin', an' ! every time I look at him something whispers to me, 'Rody, keep clear ov I that fellow's clutches, or he'll sweep I 'cI off to the warm corner, and that, I J'ch see, ma'am, is good for the sowl." f "What's the price ov thim. Rody?" I "Well, ma'am. I'm a little hard up I for money, an I'll give yeh the gardin- - dvil an' all at threepence halfpenny. , Teh wudn't get filch a bargin anywhere else in this world, nor even in Bally-poreen, Bally-poreen, lor the money. I saw a brass divil without wings an' only wan horn (figure in bronze) sowld yisterday at wan hundred pounds, think of that, ma'am, an' my divil only costs threepence three-pence halfpenny, wud an' elegant cup." "Troth,- it's no wonder, Rody Flynn, that Ve're poor." "Good-day, ma'am, an' God bless yeh. Me divil won't timpt yeh, he'll only spake in parables to yeh," I often watched Rody when the tired fit would come on him, seat himself by the roadside. Drawing a copy ot Moore's almanac from his pocket, he would begin to consult the seer's predictions, pre-dictions, and the more wonderful those predictions were the more delight Rody took in them. Any prophecy dealing with wars, earthquakes, the death of kings and queens, or the end of the world, had a great fascination for Rody, and he always underlined said prophecy with a red pencil mark. After satisfying himself with these proph- i ecies, which never came to pass, Rody would pass on to solve the rebuses and charades. If any of those puzzles in rhyme presented extra difficulty to Rody, he quietly laid down the almanac and. taking from the lining of an inside torn pocket a flute, he would begin to play to the muses, as he himself used to say, for inspiration. As Rody took his food of prophecies, rebuses and charades, Balaam, the donkey, took his more substantial meal of the rich grass growing by the wayside. After a rest of two hours or so Rody arose to his feet again and, placing Balaam on the center of the road, resumed his journey again with: "Gee up, Tara's Pride," and the well known screech: ' "Gather up, gather up ould rags and bones. In exchange I'll give yeh precious stones." Poor Rody is gone to the land of the hereafter, and though life had no fitful fever for him as far as we know, still he sleeps well, for he owed not anv man and feared God all his days. By Cabin. Next week: The Tinker. |