Collier's illustrated library of standard authors : Illustrated with nearly 400 engravings (Volume 1) online

3-



COLLIER'S



ILLUSTRATED LIBRARY



OF



Standard Authors.



GRIFFIN'S COLLEGIANS.
BANIM'S PEEP O'DAY and
CROHOORE OF THE BILLHOOK.
LOVER'S HANDY ANDY.



Vol I



Illustrated with nearly 400 Fine Engravings,




New York :
PETER FENELON COLLIER, PUBLISHER.



CONTENTS



THE COLLEGIANS.

CUAPTFMl.
How Garry owen rose and how it fell

CHAPTER :iL
How Eily O'Connor puzzled all the iiihabitunta of Oarryowen

CHAPTER III.
How Mr. Daly, the middleman, sat down to breakfast ....

CHAPTER IV.
How Mr Daly, the tniddleman, rose vp from breakfast ....

CHART Eli V.

How Kyrle Daly rode out to woo, and how Lowry Looby told him
some stories on the way .... .... .... ....

CHAPTER ri.

How Kyrle Daly was more puzzled by a piece of paper than the
nboUshers of the small note currency themselves ....

CHAPTER VII.

How Kyrle Daly discovers that all the sorrow under the sun does
vot rest upon his shoulders alone

CHAPTER VIII

How the reader, contrary to the declared intention of the histor-
ian, obtains a description of Cast'e Chute

CHAPTER IX.
HowMylca Murphy is heard on behalf of his ponies

CHAPTEHX.

How Kyrle Daly sped in his wooinff

CHA PTER XI.

How Kyrle Daly has the ff;od luck to see a staggeen race

CHAPTER XII

How fortune brings two old friends together

CHAPTER Xin.

How the two friends hold a longer conversation together than the
reader may probably approve .... .... ....

CHAPJERXIV.

HoiD Lowry becomes philosophical ....

CHAPTER Xr.
How Hardre.is spent his lime while Kryle Daly was asleep ....

CHAPTEllXVI
How the friendi parted ....



^ CHAPTER XVII.

PAGE

How Hardress learned a little secret from a dying huntsman .... 54

I CHAPTER XVIII
'â– '^^ How the gentlemen spent the evening, w)dch proved rather warmer
I than Hardress cxpeeted 57

I CHAPTER XIX.

2 How Hardress met an old friend and made a new one .... 60

I CHAPTER XX.

6 How Hardress had a strange dream of Eily ... ... 64

j CHAPTER XXI

10 How Hardress spent his time while Kyrle Daiy icas asleep .... 67

CHAPTER XXIL

How the temptation of Hardress proceeded 71

^^ J CHA P TER XXIII

' How an unexpected visitor arrived in Eily's cottage 75

CHAPTER XXIV.
How Eily undertakes a journey in the absence of her husband. ... 78

I CHAPTER XXV.
81 Ilow Eily fared in her expedition 81

I CHAPTER XXVI

I Hole Hardress consoled himself during his separation from Eily 84

^^ I CHA P TER XX VII.

I How Htrdnss answered the letter of Eily 88

28 CHAPTER XXVIIL

How the little Lord put his master's wishes into action .... 91

30 1 CHAPTER XXIX.

How Hardress lost an old acquaintance 94

CHAPTER XXX.

How Hardress got his hair dressed in TAstowcl, and heard a little

news 07

CHAPTER XXXI
How Kyrle Daly hears of the handsome conduct of his friend



18



34



Hardress



101



CHAPTER XXXn.



How Kyrle Daly's warlike ardor was cheeked by an untoward in-
cident 104

CHAPTER XXXIII.
How Hardress met a friend of Elly's at the wake 107

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Hiw the icake concluded HO

iii



CHAPTER XXXV.
Uoio Hardress at length received some news of Mly .... ...

CHAPTER XXXri.
How Hardress made a confident ...

CHAPTER XXXVII.
Hardress finds that conscience is the sworn foe of valor . . . .

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
How the situation of Hardress became 7nore critical

CHAPTER XXXI X.
Hoic the danger to the secret of Hardress was averted by the in-



PAQE

112



genuity of Irish witnesses



CHAPTER XL.
How Hardress took a decisive step for his own safety 139

CHAPTER XLI.
How the Hi-temper of Hardress again brought back /us perils. . .. 132

CHAPTER XLII.

How Mr. Warner was fortunate enough to find a man that could

and icould speak English 135

CHAPTER XhUl

Hoiothe bride was startled by an unexpected guest ... ... 137

CHAPTER XLIV.
How more guests appeared at the wedding than had been invited 140

CHAPTER XLV.



How the story ended



Narrative



.. 145



THE PEEP O'DAY



OK, JOHN BOE.



CHAPTER I.
II.
Ill
IT.
V.
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X.
XI
XII.
XIII
XIV.
XV.

Notes to Peep O'Day



151
153
156
160
167
170
172
179
185
191
199
304
208
311
318
2'''



CROHOORE OF THE BILL-
HOOK.



CHAPTEB. PAGE.

I i 225

II 225

in 229

IV 233

V 335

VI 340

VII 344

VIII 249

IX 254

X 260

XI 265

XII 269

XIII 375

XIV 278

XV 281

XVI 284

XVII 288

XVIII 290

XIX 293

XX 29(i

XXI 800

XXII 300

Notes to Crohoore of the Bill Hook 307



HANDY ANDY.



Address 315

'HAPTER. PAGB.

I â–  315

II 330

III 325

IV 330

V 334

VI 343

VII 346

VIII 350

IX 353

X 358

XI 362

XII 365

XIII 367

XIV 371

XV 378

XVI 383

XVII 387

XVIII 368

XIX 394

XX.. 401

XXI 402

XXII 410

XXIII 413

XXIV 416

XXV 419

XXVI 423



Chapter. page.

XXVII 4':6

XXVIII 407

XXIX 433

XXX 4.37

XXXI m

XXXII 441

XXXIII 447

XXXIV 449

XXXV 454

XXXVI 4.57

XXX VII 431

XXXVIII 464

XXXIX 465

XL 467

XLI 470

XLII 471

XLIII 473

XLIV 473

XLV 47

XLVI 47

XLVII 483

XLVIII 4S3

XLIX 493 I

L 494

LI 496!

The Last '•■



THE COLLEGIANS

OR, COLLEEN BAVVN.



CHAPTER I.



HOW GARRYOWEN ROSE, AXD HOW IT FELL.



The little mined outlet, wliich gives its name to one
of tbe most popular national songs of Erin, is situate
on the acclivity of a hill near the city of Limerick,
commanding a not unpleasant view of that fine old
town, with the nohle stream that washes its battered
towers, and a richly cultivated surrounding counti-y.
Tradition has preserved the occasion of its celebrity,
and the origin of its name, which appears to be com-
l>onnded of two Irish words signifying "Owen's gar-
den." A person so called was the owner, about half a
century since, of a cottage and plot of ground on this
spot, which, from its contiguity to the town, became a
favorite holiday resort with the young citizens of both
sexes— a lounge presenting accommodations somewliat
similar to those which are offered to the London
mechanic by the Battersea tea gardens. Owen's gar-
den was the general rendezvous for those who sought
for simple annisemcnt or for dissipation. The old peo-
ple drank together under the shades of trees— the
young playetl at ball, goal, or other athletic exercises
on the green; while a few, lingering by the hedge-rows
witli their fair acquaintances, cheated tlie time with
sounds less boisterous, indeed, but yet possessing tiieir
fascination also.

The festivities of our fathers, however, were fre-
quently distinguished by so tierce a character of mirth,
that, for any diiference in the result of tlieir convivial
meetings, they miglit as well have been pitched en-
counters. Owen's garden was soon as famous for scenes
of strife, as it was for mirth and humor; and broken
heads became a staple arti(!le of manufacture in the
neigliborhood.

This new feature in the diversions of the ])lace was
enconrag((d by a number of young ])er.sons of rank
somewhat su])erior to tliat of the usual frequenters of
the garden. Tliey were the sons of the more respecta-
ble citizens, the merchants and wholesale traders of the
city, just turned loose from school, with a greater su))-
ply of animal spirit than ilioy had wisdom to govern.
Thi^sc. young gentlemen, being fond of wit, amused
themselves by forming parties at night, to wring the
heads off all the geese, and tlie knockers oft' all the



hall-doors in the neighborhood. They sometimes
suffered their genius to soar as high as the breaking of
a lamji, and even the demolition of a watchman; but
perhaps this species of joking was found a little too
serious to be repeated over frequently, for few achieve-
ments of so daring a violence are found amongst their
records. They were obliged to content themselves with
the less ambitious distinction of destroying the knockers
and store-locks, annoying the peaceable inmates of the
neighboring houses with long continued assaults on the
front doors, terrifying the quiet passengers with every
species of insult and provocation, and indulging their
fratricidal propensities against all the geese in Garry-
owen.

The fame of the "Garryowen boys" soon spread far
I and wide. Their deeds were celebrated by some inglo-
rious minstrel of the day, in that air which has since
resounded over every (piarter of the world, and even
disputed the ])almof national poi)ularity with "Patrick's
day." A string of jolly verses Avere a])pended to the
tune, which soon enjoyed a notoriety similar to that of
the famous "Lilliburlero, buUum-a-la," which sung
King James out of his three kingdoms. The name of
Garryowen was as well-known as that of the Irish
Numantium, Limerick, itself, and Owen's little garden
became almost a synonyme for Ireland.

But that principle of existence which assigns to the
life of man its ]>eriods of youtii, maturity, and decay,
has its analogy in the fate of villages, as in that of
em])ires. Assyria fell, and so did Garryowen ! Rome
had its decline, and Garryowen was not immortal !
Both are now an idle sound, with nothing but tlie recol-
lections of old tradition to invest them with an interest.
The still notorious suburb is litHe better than a heaj)
of rubbish, where a number of smoked and mouldering
walls, standing out from the masses of stone and mor-
tar, indicate the position of a once i)oi)ulous row of
dwelling-houses. A few roofs yet rtMuain unshaken,
under which some impoverished families endeavor to
work out a wretched subsistence, by maintaining u
species of huxter trade, i)y cobbling old shoes, and
manufacturing rojx's. A small rookery wi>ari(>s the

1



THE COLLEGIANS:



ears of the inhabitauts at one end of tlie outlet, and a
rope-walk, which extends along the adjacent slope of
Gallows Green (so called for certain reasons), brings to
the mind of the conscious spectator, associations that
are not calculated to enliven the prospect. Neither is
he thrown into a more jocular frame of mind, as he
l)icks his steps over the insulated i)aving-stones that
appear amid the green slough with which the street is
deluged, and encounters, at the other end, an alley of
coffiii-m.ikers' shops, with a fever hospital on one side,
and a churchyard on the other. A person who was
bent ou a journey to the other world, could not desire a
more e-xpeditious outlit than Garryowen could now af-
ford him, nor a more commodious choice of convej'-
ances, from the machine on the slope above glanced at,
to the pest-house at the farther end.

But it is ill talking lightly on a serious subject. The
days of Garryowen are gone, like those of ancient Erin ;
and the feats of her once formidable heroes are nothing
more than a winter's evening tale. Owen is in his
grave, and his garden looks dreary as a rained clinrch-
yard. Tiie greater number of his merry cnstoraei's
have followed him to a narrow ])lay-gi'0U7id, which,
though not less crowded, affords less room for fun, and
less opportunity for contention. The worm is there the
reveller— the owl whoops out his defiance without an-



swer (save the echo's) — the best whisky in Munstei
would not now "drive the cold out of their hearts" and
the withered old sexton is able to knock the bravest ot
them over the pate with impunity. A few, jieihaps.
maj- still remain to look back with a fond shame to the
scene of their early follies, and to smile at the page in
which those follies are ri'corded.

Still, however, there is something to keep the mem
ory alive of those unruly days, and to preserve the
name of Garryowen from utter extinction. The annual
fair which is held on the spot presents a si)ectacle of
gaiety and uproar which might rival its most boisterous
days; and strangers still inquire for the ])lace with a
curiosity which its appearance seldom fails to disap-
])oint. Our national lyrist has immortalized the air by
adapting to it one of the liveliest of his melodies— the
adventures of wl.'ich it was once the scene constitute
a fund of standing joke and anecdote, which are not
neglected by the neighboring story-tellers — and a rotigh
voice may still occasionally be heard by the traveller
who passes near its ruined dwellings at evening, to
chant a stanza of the chorus which was once in the
mouth of every individual in the kingdom: —

*' 'Tie there we'll drink the nut-brown ale,
An' pay the reck'nin' on the nail ;
No man for debt shall go to jail
From Garryo«en na gloria."



CHAPTER II.



HOW EILY O'OONNOR PtTZZLED ALL THE INHABITANTS OK GARRYO'WEN.



BiTT while Owen lived, and while his garden flour-
ished, he and his neighbors were as merry together, as
if death could never reach the one, nor desolation
waste the other. Among those frequenters of his little
retreat, whom he distinguished with an especial favor
and attention, the foremost was the handsome daughter
of an old man who conducted the business of a rope-
walk in his neighborhood, and who was accustomed on
a tine S.itnrday evening to sit under the shade of a yel-
low osier that stood by his door, and discourse of the
politics of the day— of Lord Halifax's administration —
of the promising young patriot, Mr. Henry Grattan —
and of the famous Catholic concession of 1773. Owen,
like all Irishmen, even of the humblest rank, was an
acute critic in female ])roportions, and although time
had blown away the thatching from his head, and by
far the greater portion of blood that remained in his
frame had colonized about his nose, yet the manner in
which he held forth on the praises of his old friend's
daughter was such as put to shame her younger and
less eloquent admirers. It is true, indeed, that tlie
origin of the suburban beauty was one which, in a
troubled country like Ireland, had little of agreeable
association to recommend it ; but few even of tho.se to
whom twisted hemp was an object of secret terror.



could look on the exquisitely beautiful face of Eiiy
O'Connor, ;ind remember that she was a rope-maker's
daughter; few could detect beneath the timid, hesitat-
ing, downcast gentleness of manner, which shed an
interest over all her motions, the traces of a harsh and
vulgar education. It was true that she sometimes juir-
loined a final letter from the King's adjectives, and
prolonged the utterance of a vowel beyond the term of
prosodaical orthodoxy, but the tongue that did so
seemed to move on silver wires, and the lip on which
the pound delayed,

"Lone mnrmiiring, loth to part,"

imparted to its own accents an association of sweetness
and grace, that made the defect an additional allure-
ment. Her education in the outskirts of a city had not
impaired the natural tenderness of her character; for
her father, who, all rnde as he was, knew how to value
his daughter's .softness of mind, endeavored to foster it
by every indulgence in his ])ower. Her uncle, too, who
was now a country pari.sh-]>riest, was well qualified to
draw forth any natural talent with which she had lieen
originally endowed. lie had completed his theological
education in the famous university of Salamanca, where
he was distinguished as a youth of much quietness of
temper and literary application, rather than as one of



OR, COLLEEN BAWN.



those furious gesticulators, those *'â–  figures Hibernoiges,"
amongst whom Gil Bias, in his tit of logical lunacy,
could meet his own equals. At his little lodging, while
he was yet a curate at St. Jolin's, Eily O'Connor was
accustomed to spend a considerable portion of her
time, and in return for her kindness in presiding at his
simple tea-table. Father Edward undertook to bestow a
degree of attention on her education, wliich rendered
her in a little time as superior in knowledge as she was
in beauty to her female associates. She was remarked
likewise at this time, as a little devotee, very regular
in her attendance at chapel, constant in all the ob-
servances of her religion, and grave in her attire
and discourse. On the coldest and dreariest morning
in winter she might be seen gliding along by the
unopened shop windows to the nearest chapel, where
she was accustomed to hear an early mass, au<l return
in time to set everything in order for her father's break-
fast. During the day, she superintended his household
affairs, while he was employed upon the adjacent rope-
walk ; and, in the evening, she usually slip])ed on her
bonnet, and went across the street to Father Edward's,
where she chatted away until tea was over; if he hap-
pened to be engaged in reading his daily oflice, she
amused herself with a volume of moral entertainment,
such as Rasse/as, Prince of Abyssinia, or Mr. Addison's
Spectator, until he was at leisure to hear her lessons.
An attachment of the purest and tenderest nature was
the conse(iuence of these mutual attentions between
the uncle and niece, and it might be said that if the
former loved her not as well, he knew and valued her
character still better than her father. Father Edward,
Jiowever, was appointed to a parish, and Eily lost her
instructor. It was for her a sevei'e loss, and most se-
vere in reality when its eflects upon her own spirits
began to wear away. For some months after his de-
parture, she continued to lead the same retired and
unobtrusive life, and no eye, save that of a consummate
observer, could detect the slightest alteration in her
sentiments, the least increase of toleration for the
world and worldly amusements. That change, how-
ever, had been silently effected in her lieart. She was
now a woman— a lovely, intelligent, full-grown woman
—and circumsta'ices obliged her to take a part in the
little social circle which moved around her. Her spir-
its were naturally light, and, though long rejjressed,
beitame readily assimilated to the buoyant tone of the
society in which she hai)pened to be placed. Her
father, who, with a father's venial vanity, was fond of
showing his beautiful child among liis neighbors, took
her with him to Owen's garden at a time when it was
unusually gay and crowded, and from that evening
might lie dated the commencement of a decided and
visible change in the lovely Eily's character.

As gradual as the ai)i)roaeh of a si)ring morning, was
the change from grave to gay in the costume of tliis
Mower of the suburbs. It dawned at tirst in a hand-
some bow-knot upon her liead-dress, and ended in the
full noontide sjjlendor of llowered muslins, silks, and
sashes. It was like the o])eningof the rose-bud, wliicfi
gathers round it the winged wooers of the siunmer



meadow. " Lads, as brisk as bees," came thronging in
her train, with proffers of " honorable love, and rites of
marriage;" and even am.aig the youths of a higher
rank, whom the wild levity of Irish blood and high
spirits sent to mingle in the festivities of Owen's gar-
den, a jealousy prevailed respecting the favor of the
rope-maker's handsome daughter. It was no wonder
that attentions paid by individuals so much superior
to her ordinary admirers, should render Eily indifl'erent
to the sighs of those plebian suitors. Dunat O'Leary,
the'ffiiir-cutter, or Foxy Dunat, as he was named in al-
lusion to his red hair, was cut to the heart by her utter
coldness. Myles Murphy, likewise, a good-natured
farmer from Killarney, who travelled through the
country selling Kerry ponies, and claiming a relation-
ship with every one he met, claimed kindred in vain
with Eily, for his claim was not allowed. Lowry
Looby, too, the servant of Mr. Daly, a wealthy middle-
man who lived in the neighborhood, was suspected by
many to entertain delusive hoi)es of Eily O'Connor's
favor — but this report was improbable enough, for
Lowry could not but know that he was a very ugly
man; and if he were as beautiful as Narcissus, Mihil
O'Connor would still have shut the door in his face for
being as poor as Timon. So that, though there was no
lack of admirers, the lovely Eily, like many <;elebrated
beauties in a higher rank, ran, after all, a fair chance of
becoming what Lady Mary Montague has elegantly
termed a "lay nun." Even as a book- worm, who will
pore over a single volume from morning to niglit, if
turned loose into a library, wanders from shelf to
shelf, bewildered amid a liost of temptations, and un-
able to make any selection until he is surj)rised by
twilight, and charigned to tind, that with so much hap-
piness within his grasp, he has spent, nevertheless, an
uniirofltable day.

But accident saved Eily from a destiny so deeply
dreaded and so often lamented as that above alluded
to— a condition which people generally agree to look
upon as one of utter desolation, and which, notwith-
standing, is frequently a state of greater hai>j)iness than
its opposite. On the eve of the seventeenth of IVIarch,
a day distinguished in the rope-makers household, not
only as the festival of the natioiuil Saint; but as the
birth-day of the young mistress of the establishment —
on this evening Eily and her father were enjoying their
customary relaxation at Owen's garden. The jolly
proprietor was seated as usiud with his rope-twisting
friend under the yellow osier, while ]\Iyles I\Inri)liy,
who had brought a number of his wild i)onies to be dis-
])osed of at the neighboring fairs, had taken his place
at the end of the table, and was endeavoring to insinu-
ate a distant relationshi]) between the Owens of Kil-
teery, connexiims of the jjcrson whom lie ad<li-essed,
and the Murjjhy's of Knockfodhra, connexions of his
own. A party of young men were i)laying lives at a
ball-alley, on the other side of the green; and another,
more numerous, and graced with many female tigiires,
were capering away to the tune of the Fox-IInnter's
Jig on the short grass. Some jioor old wcmien, with
baskets on their arms, were endeavoring to sell off some



THE COLLEGIANS:



Patrick's crosses for children, at the low rate of one
halfpenny a piece, giUliny, paint, and all. Others,
fatigued with exertion, M'ere walking under the still
leafless trees, some with their hats, some with their
coats otf, jesting, laughing, and chatting familiarly with
their female acquaintances.

Mihil O'Connor, happening to see Lowry Looby among
the promeuaders, glancing now and then at the dance
and whistling Patrick's Day, reiiuested him to call his
daughter out of the group, and tell her that he was
waiting for her to go home. Lowry went, and returned
to say, that Eily was dancing with a strange young
gentleman in a boating dress, and that he would not
let her go until she had finished the slip jig.

It continued a sufficient time to tire the old man's
patience. When Eily did at last make her appearance,
he observed there was a Hush of mingled weariness and
pleasure on her cheek, which showed that the delay
was not quite in opposition to her own inclinations.
This circumstance might have tempted him to receive
her with a little displeasure, but that honest Owen at
that moment laid hold on both father aud daughter,
insisting that they should come in and take supper
with his wife and himself.

This narrati^eof Eily's girlhood being merely intro-
ductory, we shall forbear to furnish any detail of the
minor incidents of the evening, or the quality of Mrs.
Owen's entertainment. They were very merry and
happy; so much so, that the Patrick's eve approached
its termination before they rose to bid their host and
hostess a good night. Owen advised them to walk on
rapidly, in order to avoid the "Pathrick's boys," who
would prcMuenade the streets after twelve, to welcome
in the mighty festival with music and uproar of all
kinds. Some of the lads, he said, "might be playin'
their tricks ui)on Mrs. Eily."

The night was rather dark, aud the dim glimmer of
the oil-lamps, which were suspended at long intervals
over the street-doors, tended only in a very feeble de-
gree to qualify the gloom. Mihil O'Connor and his
daughter had ah'eady performed more than half their
journey, and were turning from a narrow lane at the
head of IMuugret Street, when a loud and tumultuous
sound broke with sudden violence upon their hearing.
It proceeded from a multitude of people who were mov-
ing in confused and noisy procession along the street.
An ancient and still honored custom summons the
youthful inhabitants of the city on the night of this
anniversary to celebrate the approaching holiday of the
patron saint and apostle of the island, by promenading
all the streets in succession, playing national airs, and
tilling \\\) the pauses in the music with shouts of exul-
tation. Such was the procession which the two com-
panions now beheld approaching.

Tlie appearance which it presented was not alto-