Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2009 with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/myconnaughtcousi01jayh BY THE SAME AUTHOR, Uniform with " The Queen of Connaught,'' THE DARK COLLEEN. SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 'The author of "The Queen of Connaught " has again given to the world an interesting and romantic tale. . . . Very original is the charm of the early days of poor Morna's romance, the rugged grandeur of her home, the picturesque habits and primitive ceremonies, the tenderness and ferocity of her melancholy Celtic kindred.' — Athemeiim. _ ' Lively and spirited, abounding with fresh conceptions and picturesque situations. No more striking locale could have been chosen than Eagle Island — a semi-savage islet on the west coast of Ireland, with its primitive manners and customs, and its strange race of half-Celtic, half-Spanish \x\.- habitants.'— G/ciJ^. ' The originality of the story is complete. Its charm lies in the picture of a free and unfamiliar life. . . . Poor Morna's return to Eagle Island, tired, forsaken, and heartily sick of the unknown world that had seemed so charming, makes a touching scene. . . . Certain states of emotion — as, for example, the sorrow of Morna, and her bewilderment when she finds that Bisson has ceased to love her ; certain aspects of nature in seas and mountains — are very delicately and carefully rendered. The mixed char- acter of Louander, the mate, with his love, which would fain be honourable, awakening a certain gentleness in a hardened disposition, is also a clever study.'— /'a// iMall Gazette. *_' Unquestionably a book of mark. . . . In her word pictures and still- life scenes the author is all that could be desired. . . . Morna is a very fascinating conception, and drawn with great truth and tenderness of feeling.' — Graphic. ' We have scarcely a fault to find. ... It may and should be read. . . . Morna's savage puritj-, and at the same time her depths of passion, are most admirably drawn. The book is an excellent piece of work. — Acadetny. 'This fresh and unconventional romance, whose charm is in its vivid delineations of the weird inhabitants of Eagle Island, and of the varying aspects of this lone spot in the ocean, according to whether the Atlantic peacefully laps its shores or dashes with the fury of the tempest on its rocks.' — Illustrated London News. ' Wc may possibly find in its author a worthy successor, though in a some- what different line, to those great bygone delineators of Irish life and character whose names have become household words. . . . Considered merely as a telling story, " The Dark Colleen " is admirable. The pictures of the simple peasant life upon Eagle Island, with its alternate toil and merry-making, its dangers and its pleasures, give a delightful impression of the inhabitants of the solitary spot. . . . These the author has por- trayed in a manner which is obviously the result of knowledge and actual observation, and is worthy of all praise.' — Morning Post. 'A novel which possesses the rare and valuable quality of novelty . . . the scenery will be strange to most readers, and in many passages the aspects of Nature are very cleverly described. Moreover, the book is a study of a very curious and interesting state of society. . . . The life is that of people as unsophisticated and as much their own rulers as the dwellers in the woodland villages in George Sand's " Maitres Sonneurs." ... A novel which no novel reader should miss, and which people who generally shun novels may go out of their way to enjoy.' — Saturday Revieiv. VOL. I. BY THE SAME AUTHOR, In I Vol., Price 23-., AT ALL BOOKSELLERS, THE QUEEN OF CONNAUGHT. SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. ' Since Lever and Carleton passed away, we have had little of Irish life in fiction, and that little has lacked character and power. This new writer gives promise of filling the vacant place. . . . This novel contains an unusual mixture of plot and sensation, faithful character, study, and powerful description. A book to be welcomed and read with delight in these times for its freshness of conception, its racy, rattling humour, and its ridiculous- ness — sometimes so oddly dashed with deep thought— all of which combine to attest an exceptional power on the part of the author.' — British Quarterly Review. ' Extremely singular, and quite unlike any other tale that has ever ap- peared ; and it has about it a strange fascination. In reading it, one seems to be transported into some strange land of poetr^-^ and romance. . . . Indeed, "The Queen of Connaught " is a series of very skilfully executed pictures, which present a wonderful appearance of reality. Poor Kathleen finds out when dying how mistaken her Hie has been, and she does not desire to begin it again. She dies in the arms of the faithful husband whom till lately she had never understood, and whose goodness she has never doubted, but whose love has followed her to the end, and will long survive her. A most touching story indeed, full of pathos and full of humour, is this " Queen ol(Zovix\ZM^\.." '—Mar7ii7tg Post. ' A story that combines considerable inventiveness, and plot power with racy study of character and fresh picturesque description. . ._ . Our readers will not fail to be struck by the intimate knowledge of Irish ways and customs, the subtle instinct for the finer distinguishing traits in Irish character ; and they will no doubt appreciate also the sense at once of the humour of Irish life, and of the delicacy, the sentiment, and the rough defiance and dare-devilry that are so oddly intermingled in it. . . . Dramatic force is noticeable throughout, no less than true descriptive knack. . . . Alike to those who seek striking incident and picture, and those who seek more solid teaching, "The Queen of Connaught " may be very safely recommended.' — Nonconfortnisf. ' A very new subject is treated in this story with great freshness and vivacity. The tale may be said to be a study of the Irish character and temperament ; impartial and thoughtful in its intention, and cleverly executed, though the author's contempt for the class of characters chiefly described is visible enough. . . . Nothing can be happier or more graphic than the author's description of the kind of society which frequents O'Mara Castle as soon as Kathleen restores the glories of its ancient hospitality- The humours of the society that flock there, from Timothy Linney, the stately old man who displaces the master of his house from his own chair because he has taken a fancy to it, to Biddy Cranby, the poor crazy woman who starves herself, in both senses of the word, to feed and clothe her children, are painted with a picturesque breadth and liveliness that add sensibly _ to one's knowledge of human nature itself. . . . It is a most charming study of a subject full of colour, light and shadow, and one that rises steadily in interest up to the close. The third volume is decidedly the best of the three, and the scene which comes most nearly up to the ideal point in power, is the critical scene of the book, where Kathleen, drenched by the storm, and alone, faces the conspirators against her husband's life, in the dreary solitude of their mountain hiding-place. ... Situations of less intensity are often painted with consummate skill. ... All are etched with a most faithful and skilful hand. . . . This tale is full of life, skill, and insight.' — Spectator. MY CONNAUGHT COUSINS. BY H A E E I E T T J A Y, lUTHOR of "the QCEEX of CONNArCHT," "TWO MEN AND A MAIi:)," ETC., E.G. IN THREE VOL UMES. VOL. I. LONDON; F. V. WHITE & CO., 31 SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STEAND, W.C. 1 8 8 3. {AU Ri'jhts reserved.' p. V. WHITE & CO.'S SELECT NOVELS. Crown Zvo, cloth, y. 6d. each. The following Volumes of the Series are now ready:— MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. By Florence Marryat. ' " My Sister the Actress " is the best novel we have had the pleasure of reading from the pen of Miss Marryat.' — yo/in Bull. THE DEAN'S WIFE. By Mrs Eiloart. ' Any reader who wants a good story thoroughly well told cannot do better than read " The Dean's Wife." ' — yohn Bull. A BROKEN BLOSSOM. By Florence Marryat. ' A really charming story, full of delicate pathos and quiet humour ; pleasant to read and pleasant to remember.' — JoJui Bull. TWO MEN AND A MAID. By Harriett Jay. ' Compared with the former works of the authoress of " The Queen of Connaught," this novel must be pronounced second to none.' — Graphic. SWEETHEART AND WIFE. By Lady Constance Howard. 'The story from first to last is attractive, and cannot fail to command wide favour.' — Whitehall Review. PHYLLIDA. By Florence Marryat. ' " Phyllida " is a novel of which the author may be justly proud.' — Morning Post. BARBARA'S WARNING. By the Author of ' Recom- mended to Mercy.' COLSTON AND SON, PKINTERS, EJ)INBUK(iH. <^ oi ^ V- ^ PREFATORY NOTE. HE Authoress of Mij Connaught Cousins, smarting under a cer- tain misconception, but tliink- .; ing that polemics of any kind ill befit i a lady's pen, has asked me to write a few prefatory words explaining how this ; book and its predecessors came to be ^;^^written, and how unjust is the charge, made in one influential quarter, that ^ she is an enemy to Irish nationality. The task is a difficult one, especially as I C ^S^ iv Preface. sympathise more strongly than she does with the present 'political movement, and am, indeed, much more of an advanced Liberal ; but we are entirely at one in our sympathy with the social life and aims of the Irish people, and in our love for what is best and noblest in the Irish nature. In these days of haste and folly, anything really original in literature is certain to be misunderstood. When the Queen of Connaitght appeared, its great and instantaneous success was unconnected with its most sterling characteristic — that of an entirely new (but I believe the only true) reading of the national character and temperament. Subsequent events have jus- tified that reading in an extraordinary manner ; and it is clearly understood now that the familiar Irishman of literature and Preface, v the stage, the meny, goocl-humourecl "Pat" of a thousand novels and melodramas, was more or less a jDroduct of the inner con- sciousness. In a subsequent but far less successful work, unpopular from its rigid and terrible truth of delineation, the Au- thoress put her finger on the canker which now, as heretofore, poisons the wholesome life of Ireland ; but the Priest's Blessing, though neglected now, will live as perhaps the most powerful social study that ever came from the mind of a young girl. No unprejudiced person who reads that work, and takes it in connection with other works from the same pen, will doubt its deep in- sight — I should say, its unparalleled insight — into the nature of the Irish peasant. The Authoress of these works went to Ireland when very young, lived for years vi Preface. in the wildest and loneliest part of the wild and lonely West, and was first in- spired to literary effort by what she saw and hiew. Her pictures were drawn from the very life, of which she was all that time a portion. She had no prejudices and no predispositions, and her sympathy, above all, was for the suffering people ; and if in her portrayal she often had to describe moral darkness, she did so with a full sense of what was brightest and best on the other side of the picture. Behind the wretchedness and the squalor, the ignorance and the prejudice, beginning in misconception and culminating in crime, she showed the deep tenderness, the de- voted patience, the sweetness and the purity, of the Celtic temperament. The characters of Dunbeg in the Queen of Con- Preface, vii naught, of Patrick O'Connor in the Priest's Blessing, of James Merton in the present work, are, as living types, unique in liter- ature ; and the infinite pity of literary sympathy was never better exemplified than in the life story of " Madge Dun- raven " and " Morna Dunroon," or than in the tender idyll of " How Andy Beg became a Fairy." Among the first to recognise the unique power of these stories, their fidelity to human nature, and their predominant dra- matic power, was one of the foremost moral teachers of this or any time, — Mr Eeade. Had they been unveracious, had they been in any sense productions of the inner consciousness, they would never have attracted that most keen-sighted of social observers ; had they lacked sympathy for vili Preface. their subject, had they been opposed to what was best in Irish life and character they would never have won his approval. But their veracity is vital and will prevail. Meantime, the reader is to be warned that they contain many things, present many pictures, which the false friends and sum- mer lovers of Ireland must naturally re- gard with suspicion and dislike. The true friends of Ireland, and all those who honestly sympathise with the national as- pirations, will find in them that truth which genius only can reveal, and which, when once revealed, is fairer than any falsehood, however brightly drawn. ROBERT BUCHANAN. MY CONMUGHT COUSINS. CHAPTEK I. )T was midsummer. The hottest sun that had warmed our soil for years shone its brightest upon city and suburb. All my friends were in the country, yet I remained shut up in my chambers, with nothing fairer, to gaze upon than the withered grass and drooping trees of a smutty, smoke-begrimed London square. Heigho ! It was weary work staying in London when all the world was wandering away VOL. I. A 2 My Connaught Cousins. by wood and stream ! When I walked out the heat of the pavement scorched the leather of my shoes ! The West End streets which I traversed were all deserted save for a few Indian ayahs and dyspeptic- looking gentlemen of the Baystock breed, who evidently existed on curry and red pepper, and felt no sort of discomfort when the thermometer reofistered one hun- dred in the shade. It was actually my first experience of summer in town ! — that lucky spoon which had been in my possession ever since I was born with it in my mouth, having managed like an enchanter's wand to deposit me every for- mer summer uj)on the bank of a salmon river or the knolls of a grouse moor. For once, however, my luck had failed me, since, despite their winter's hard work, my hands lay passively in almost empty pockets, and my eyes rested gloomily upon the scorched and grimy streets of Babylon. Babylon without the " waters," My Connatight Cousins. 3 or anything suggestive of coolness and pastoral rest. As I mused and sulked, my meditations were disturbed by a step proceeding slowly round the square, and thrusting my head out of the window I beheld the postman. Even his habitually brisk tread had changed that day into a lagging desultory kind of stroll. He came wearily on ; he paused before my door. " Could the letter be for me ? " I won- dered, having nothing more important to occupy my brain, — for the postman had slipped a missive into the letter-box, given his feeble rat-tat, and strolled vacuously away. I was so much occupied with watching the man's retreating figure, that I was hardly conscious of a step on the stair, a tap at the door, and not until I heard the words, — ''A letter, sir, if you please," did I turn my head. Then it was for me ! — a white square envelope, addressed to " John Stedman, 4 My Co7inatight Cotcsins. Esq." in a hand which seemed, yet was not altogether, familiar. After scanning the writing I turned to the seal, and then I beheld, printed in small capitals, the word Ballyshanrany, and about it was entwined the triple-leaved shamrock. Having gazed for a few minutes at the mystical emblem, and still more mystical word, I tore open the envelope, and proceeded to acquaint myself with the contents. There were two letters, the first of which ran as follows : — " Ballyshanrany, Storport, County Mayo, Ireland. "My dear Nephew, — The girls, ever impatient to make your acquaintance, have for the last ten days been worrying my life out to invite you here. In vain have I protested ; in vain have I told them that a young London barrister must have more engagements than he knows what to do Afy Comiattght Cousins. 5 with ; although I have asked you three times already, they declare that the third time is lucky, and that if I send this letter you'll come. So I send it. If you are not already disposed of for the season, I cer- tainly believe you might do worse than spend a few weeks down here. We are homely, but comfortable ; I can manage to put you in the way of a little sport ; — Kate, who is a capital housekeeper, will see that you are properly fed, and the rest have promised to do what they can to amuse you. There's half-a-dozen of them, remember, but they are not bad colleens as colleens go, and if you come,; sure they'll give you a hearty welcome I Think it over, and let us hear from you. Your affectionate uncle, A. Kenmaee." I read the letter twice ; then throwing it on the table, I sat down lazily, cigar in mouth, to take my uncle's parting word f)i advice. I thought over his proj^osition, 6 My Connatigkt Cousins. and the more I thought of it, the more I seemed to like it. I felt irresistibly im- pelled to accept it, at the same time I could not help regretting that I did not know a little more of the relations under whose roof I was invited to reside. My uncle was an Irishman to the back- bone, and, as far as I could gather, as warm- hearted an old fellow as ever trod the soil. Most of his early days had been spent in India, and it was not till rather late in life that he returned, married my mothers youngest sister, and settled down upon hi& native soil. As far as any family communi- cation was concerned, they might have settled in Kamskatka, for after the marriage they seemed to be exiled entirely from their friends ; but we heard from time to time that they were happy, and that strange little faces were appearing upon their hearth. At length one morning — about six years before the day on which my uncle's third invitation fell into my hands — My Connaught Cousins, 7 there came to our house a piece of news which almost broke my mother's heart, for she heard that her favourite sister, after having presented her husband with half-a-dozen daughters, had died, while the sixth little stranger was still a baby at her breast. After this, the connection of the Ken- mares with our branch of the family seemed to cease. We heard little or nothing of them, and I, busily engaged in working my way in the world, almost forgot that such close kin existed at all. I vaguely remembered, now that the cir- cumstance was recalled to my mind, having received two letters of invitation from the old gentleman ; but the invitations, coming doubtless at busy times, had never hitherto been tempting enough to draw me to Ire- land. I had, consequently, written a polite refusal and dismissed the whole family from my mind. Now, however, the case was different. 8 Afy Connaught Cousins. I had nothing to do ; I had nowhere to go ; I was stifling in the smoky air of London, and longing for a breeze from the sea. Yes, the invitation was certainly tempting ; it was one, moreover, which I should have accepted without a moment's hesitation, but for one appalling contin- gency — the half-dozen girls. To some young fellows this might have been an inducement ; to me it was the contrary. Nature never meant me for a lady's man, and the typical girl of modern life was certainly not to my taste. It was all very well to pass half-an-hour with persons of the other sex in a London drawing-room, but to have to spend one's entire vacation, surrounded by girls, was rather too much of a good thing. " During the vacation," I reflected, *^ one wants male society, fair sport, and good cigars. To visit Bally shanrany simply means that I am to be perpetually bored with half-a-dozen boisterous Irish hoydens. My Connaught Cousins, 9 The invitation, though sorely tempting, won't do for a bashful man. I will write my refusal without a moment's delay." I rose to carry out my resolution, when my eye, wandering over the carpet, fell upon a folded sheet of paper which lay at my feet. Suddenly I remembered what, until then, I had entirely forgotten, — the second letter which the envelope contained, and which I had never taken the trouble to open at all. I lifted it, unfolded the sheet, and read as follows : — '' Dearest Cousin Jack, — Ever since we read your speech in the paper, we have been dying to see you, so we hope that when you answer papas letter this time, you will not have the heart to say * no.' We have not the least idea what you are like ; but we have conjured up all sorts of visions which are, no doubt, all wrong; but one thing we have decided, which is that, no matter what you are like, we lo My Connaught Cousins. mean to look after you just the same as papa. Nora will see to your gun with papa's ; Biddy will make cartridges for you, and Aileen will tie you some of her best flies ; you shall do just as you like, and if you would rather not be bothered with so many girls, you shall spend nearly all your time alone with papa. But do come ! Your affectionate Cousins Kathleen, Nora, Aileen, OONA, Bridget, Amy, ^P Her mark. "P.;S. — Excuse the large blot. Amy writes- so badly we thought it better to make her put her mark, and in her excitement she made the blot instead, Kathleen." I sat down at once and wrote my reply. Jlly Connaiight Cousins. 1 1 *' My dearest little Conn aught Cousins, — When I read your father's letter, I intended to refuse his invitation, for I am afraid of girls in general, and the thought of being surrounded by half-a-dozen ap- palled me ; but since I have read your letter my mind has changed. I have a sort of feeling you must be rather nice, and the temptation to make sure being too- great to be resisted, I mean to come. I have a few things to settle before I can leave London, but in about a week from to- day expect me, — Believe me, till then, your affectionate cousin, Jack Stedman." Having written the above, I added a line- to the old gentleman, and the thing was done. In exactly a week from that day, I turned my back on the smoke of London^ and set out with heroic heart to try life in the wilds of Connaught. CHAPTEE II. DREARY day and a dreary prospect ; the air was damp and chilly, and a thin misty rain was falling and slowly penetrating to the skin of the half-clothed little urchins who were either crouching in the doorways or wildly driving along their donkeys loaded with creels of turf. I was surveying this prospect from the window of the hotel, when the waiter suddenly appeared and announced that the •car was at the door to convey me to my journey's end. I found the landlord with a face fit to grace a funeral. From the moment of hearing my place of destination, My Connatight Cousins. 13 he had looked upon me as raving mad, and had accordingly treated me with great forbearance, as a person who was per- haps, on the whole, harmless enough, but not at all responsible for his actions. As for getting any information from him about the place, that was perfectly hope- less. When I approached the subject, he merely answered, " Ah, it is a wild country, sir," sighed deeply, shrugged his shoulders, and walked off, evidently feeling that he had done his duty ; and if I was rash enough to go after that, why, I must take the consequences. Around him stood the ostler, the waiter, the boots, and about a dozen little ragged gorsoons, who stared at me with all their might and main, scrambled to obtain the few pence which were scattered amongst them, and uttered a wild Hooroo ! as the car rolled away. The landlord's parting sigh was wafted to me on the chilly wind, and had the effect of damp- ing my spirits for at least one half of the 14 My Connaught Cousins. day. So I rolled out of the town of Bally- ferry, in the county of Mayo, Ireland, and was soon speeding along westward towards the ocean. The beginning of the drive was not very enjoyable ; the misty rain fell unceas- ingly, and the chilly wind was gradually awakening rheumatic reminiscences in my bones. The district through which I was passing was truly '' a wild country," for the most part flat and boggy, and disfigured here and there by unsightly mounds of fresh-cut turf; yet the recent rain had imparted greenness and freshness to the small patches of pasture, and given tone and richness of colour to the little knolls of purple heather here and there dotted about the unsightly bogs. The dim brown tinge of the melancholy landscaj^e was saddened still more by the dark and lowering atmosphere ; not a hill was to be seen, and not a tree ; nothing but a dark and dreary waste bordered on either My Connaught Cousins. 15 side by a heavy mist and a threatening sky. I was on my way to Storport, and in spite of various misadventures by land and sea, I had so far managed to retain my ardent desire to try life in the wilds of Connaught. But I had not been many hours in Ballyferry, the nearest point at- tainable by rail, and fifty long miles from my destination, when my ardour was con- siderably damped by the dreary prog- nostics of O'Shaughnessy, the innkeeper, and his ragged retinue. Even the driver of the car seemed to be aflfected while under his master's eye ; but directly we turned the corner which shut the hotel from sight, his spirits rose considerably. He cracked his whip, shouted, whistled, yelled, and we sped aloDg merrily — soon to be joined by an excited Irish- man, dressed in a blue bob-tail coat with brass buttons, knee breeches, and a brim- less chimney-pot hat, who was smoking a 1 6 My Connaught Cousins. very dirty, short pipe, and seated on the back of a donkey. An exciting race en- sued. My driver cracked his whip, and whistled ; the Irishman brandished his shillelagh and shouted and screamed at the top of his voice, and we rattled along in a perfect shower of mud and rain. The little donkey kept up bravely, and once or twice was on the point of leaving us behind altogether. But at last, after a short but sharp ride, Pat disappeared, with a defiant wave of the shillelagh, down an adjoining road. After this little distraction, the drive became more and more dreary and unin- teresting ; the thick mist shut out any view I might have had of the surround- ing country ; the driver seemed to lose all his spirits, though he still endeavoured in a moody way to urge the horses on. Hoping to put a little life into him, I handed him a drink from my flask, and told him to take it easy, as the horses My Connaught Cousins. 17 were perhaps rather tired after their late race, but he had evidently no intention of letting them " take it easy," for he whipped and shouted louder than ever ; then he turned to me and breathlessly exclaimed, — " Faith, sor, the lazy beasts must make better speed than they're doing, or we'll never reach the river before night." " Well, suppose we don't, it's not such a dreadful place, I suppose ? " " Troth, it is though," he answered em- phatically ; " the river is tidal, and when it is swollen with the rain, the current is strong enough to sweep the horses off their legs. It's a dangerous place ; steep hills on both sides, and a rough, broken road ; one false step would may-be lead to your death. Did your honor not hear about it in Ballyferry ? " " Not a word. Have you ever crossed it before ? " " Only once, your honor. I was taking some young colleens across — it was these VOL. I. B 1 8 My Connaught Cousins, ponies L had ; when we got into the water, one of the traces broke, and the whole weight fell on the one pony. It was a mercy she was a quiet and strong beast, and she managed to carry us through. It had been a dry season, and the water was low, and the tide was out, or. Lord, I think we should have been killed, for the poor beast could never have stood against the current with such a load on her back." " And do you think it is much swollen to-day?" " Faith, I do then, for not one dry day have we seen for eight weeks ; but we'll just stop here and ask about it from a man I know." Suiting the action to the word, he accord- ingly pulled up before a little thatched cottage which stood on the roadside, and called out some mystical sentence in Irish. After this had been repeated once or twice, a queer, smoke-dried looking old man made his appearance, and answered in the same 3fy Connaught Cousins. 19 unknown tongue. A conversation there- upon ensued, whicli, to judge from the despairing looks of the driver, was scarcely of an agreeable nature. At last he explained to me that things looked as black as they could possibly be ; the tide was in, the river was dreadfully swollen by the recent rain, and we would most probably not be able to cross before midnight, when the tide would be out. On hearing all this, I decided to go on and reconnoitre, as we might after all be able to get through, and if the worst came we must just camp on the banks until daybreak. So after again receiving the cheering information, " It's to a wild country your honour's goin'," I once more sped on my way. As the weather Srtill showed no signs of clearing, I rolled myself comfortably in my rugs, and prepared to take- a slight doze ; but just as I was dropping into a quiet sleep, I was suddenly called back to this fretful world by a frightful babble of voices, 20 My Connaught Cousins. and the car coming to a full stop. On look- ing up to ascertain the cause of the delay, I saw that I was close on the banks of a stream which rushed down with great force between two steep hills. On the op- posite bank stood half-a-dozen ragged-look- ing Irishmen, wildly gesticulating and shoutiuo; out unintelligible words which were almost drowned in the roar of the waters. I looked around to the driver for an explanation, but he had disappeared from the box, aud was down at the water's edge answering his Irish friends in their own wild way. My first fears were at once confirmed ; this, then, was the river. But how were we to cross it ? It was so swollen by the continual rain and the full tide, that it seemed simply impossible for the horses to get through. With a quickly beating heart, I anxiously watched the faces of the men as they carried on their excited con- versation. Then one of them commenced to sound the passage, by sticking in a long My Connaught Cousins. 21 stick. This proceeding was not of the slightest use, apparently, as he could not reach half a yard beyond the bank, but it evidently satisfied his companions, and after a little more shouting and waving the driver returned and announced his intention of crossing. " The boys think we had better make a dash at it," he said, " and we'll maybe come through safe — for if we wait for days we'll never have a better chance." " But do you think these men are to be trusted ? " I asked. "Faith, are they no, sir," he answered indignantly; " they've all the O'Donnell blood in their veins, and if I bade them lift the ponies and carry them over, they'd never refuse." Silenced at once by this proof of clannish fidelity, I allowed him to prepare the car, and when all was ready, I screwed up my courage to the highest pitch, and bravely took my seat by his side. The horses went 2 2 My Connaught Cousins. down the hill at a spanking rate, and so steep was the descent, that once or twice I felt that the car would certainly be over- turned ; but the roughness of the road acted as a sort of drag, and saved us from any catastrophe. Then we entered the river ! such a splashing, jolting, and shouting was never heard ! Only the horses' backs were above water, and the car was half buried. How- ever, they brought us safely through, galloped furiously up the steep ascent be- yond, never once pausing until they stood panting and steaming on the top of the hill. I glanced back and shuddered at the ugly place through which I had come, then I in- quired how far it was to Storport. " Ten miles," was the quiet re]Dly ; " but there is a little shebeen close by where we will take a rest." The shebeen referred to was a tiny thatched hut standing in the roadside bog. When I first entered the room, the turf My Connaiight Cousins. 23 smoke was so thick that I could see nothing ; but after a few moments my ejes grew more accustomed to it, and I could discern the brio;lit flames of a fire which was burninof in the middle of the floor, the smoke issuing through a hole in the roof. Over the fire was a large black cauldron suspended from a thick, black iron chain which hung from the rafters ; and around it sat on their hams several old women with their elbows on their knees, all smoking short clay pipes very black with age, and chatter- ing away in Irish. The whole scene forcibly reminded me of the " Witch scene " in " Macbeth," only the cauldron, instead of containing mystic ingredients, was filled with substantial potatoes. The floor of the other half of the room was strewn with straw, on which reposed two pigs, a sheep, a horse, and any number of hens. I speedily escaped into the fresh air to examine the state of the weather and the country. 24 Mj/ Connaught Cousins. The thin misty rain still fell, but the lowering sky had begun to brighten and to show signs of clear weather coming. The landscape was of the same flat and boggy description as it had been throughout the journey ; nothing to enliven the scene ; not even a stone wall to vary the monotony of the desert land — all was dull, flat, and unpro- fitable. The very road was almost a bog, so sodden was it by the continual rain ; and outside the door of the hut the pigs and ducks were waddling in the mire. The prospect so damped my spirits, that I hailed with joy the appearance of the horses. They were led by an old man, dressed in the usual bob-tail coat and brimless hat, who addressed me with a queer mixture of dignity and respect. *' You're going to Storport, sir % " he said, touching his brimless hat in a stately military manner. " Yes." " It's a wild country, sir ! " My Connatight Cousins. 25 I turned my eyes on the surrounding prospect. " If it's wilder than this," I involuntarily exclaimed, " it must be wild indeed." *' You see, sir," he continued, " here we lie snug and low, and the wind can't very well get at us, but, in troth, sir, at Storport — " I heard no more, for driven to despera- tion by the reiteration of these dreary prophecies, I jumped on to the car and drove away. The dismal vapours gradually cleared off, and ere long we got a peep of sunshine. The land was less barren, and here and there it was relieved by pastures and grassy hillocks. As we rolled along the hillocks gradually disappeared, and were replaced by heathery mountains. At last I was aroused by the joyful words, — " This is Storport, sir ; " and I caught my first sight of the little village. One glance convinced me that Storport had been libelled by my roadside inform- 26 My Connaught Cousins, ants. The bad effects of the dreary pro- phecies which I had heard vanished from my mind as I beheld the quiet little haven of beauty which opened out before my delighted gaze. The car had come to a standstill on the top of the hill. I turned to the man, and asked if we had many miles further to go. " Sorra mile, or half a mile either," was the reply. " Can you see the house, then ? " *' I cannot, yer honor, but I can see the chimbleys of it ! See there, sir," he added, pointing to a clump of trees, from the midst of which streaks of smoke were issuing, *' tliat is Ballyshanrany ! " " Point me out the nearest route to the house," I said to the driver. ^* I'll finish the journey on foot." I leapt from the car as I spoke, and, having ordered him to follow with my luggage, I took a path which he pointed out to me across the bog. It was certainly My Connaught Cousins, 27 a very short cut ; a walk of ten minutes brought me to the road again, and I found myself standing close to an iron gate, the private entrance to the grounds. I had raised my hand to open the gate, when the silence all around me was suddenly broken by a silvery peal of laughter. I waited till it ceased, then I laid my hand upon the gate, which swung back noiselessly upon its hinges, and entered the grounds. I could see nothing, for tall trees rose on either side, and the broad carriage drive, which I trod, took a sudden and sharp curve ; the house was completely hidden ; I walked quietly on ; then I turned the curve, and came in full view of the dwelling. The house, a plain, two-storeyed building, built of stone quarried from the bog, and roofed with slate, was almost buried in a profusion of ivy and flowers ; all the win- dows and doors stood open, and around them clustered roses and fuschias in full bloom. Before the front door was a rather 28 My Connaught Cousins, neglected - looking lawn, gazing beyond which one beheld the blue of the open sea. The front door stood wide open, and on the threshold was spread a couple of bearskin rugs, seated on which, amidst the wealth of snow-white hair, was a little girl about five or six years old. She sat cross-legged, facing a number of dogs, which clustered eagerly before her, — dogs of all sizes and conditions, from one huge St Bernard down to the veriest mite of a terrier that ever worried at the life of a rat. It was the laughter of this little witch which had already reached me ; she was putting some of the dogs through their tricks, and every time they made a mistake she clapped her hands and laughed aloud. ''Cousin number one!" I commented mentally, drawing back in the shelter of the trees, and gazing with amused eyes upon the child. I remembered, as I did so, the blot and the cross which had disfigured my much-prized letter, and having decided this My Connaught Cousins. 29 little one's identity, I looked around for cousin number two. I had not far to look. A few yards from the door stood a small wicker table, strewn with powder, shot, wads, cartridge cases, etc., and at this table sat a young giii busily at work making cartridges. Again I mentally referred to my letter, and after having done so, I had little difficulty in recognising my cousin Bridget. She was certainly not so pretty as little Amy, who, with her warm brown skin, her sparkling black eyes and glossy hair, would have made a model which any painter might have been proud of. Still Bridget was not at all bad looking, and if she had been seen alone and not by the side of her little witch of a sister, she would have certainly demanded a second glance. But she had disadvantages to con- tend against, which had not yet come Amy's way. She was at that age when the figure has taken no definite form, when 30 My Connaught Cousins, the arms and legs appear too long and dresses can never be made to fit ; neverthe- less, she had laughing blue eyes and a pleasant face, which she had contrived to disfigure by cropping ofi" all her hair. Yes, I instinctively felt that in Bridget I had not discovered the beauty of the family, but I had quite made up my mind that we should be excellent friends. Then I took another peep. This time I was disappointed. I was about to move forward, and boldly proclaim my presence, when my eye fell upon a sight which held me captive. Not very far from the table at which Biddy was so busily engaged, was a ham- mock swung up to the branches of two saplings, and in the hammock, lying at full length, with her head supported on her two clasped hands, was another of my Con- naught cousins. About seventeen years of age, tall and My Connaught Cousins. 31 thin, with a skin like alabaster, and hair of rich warm gold. She was dressed in a robe of w^hite, which was daintily trimmed with lace, and here and there a knot of rose-coloured ribbon. Through the open work of the sleeves and boddice, you could see the warm tints of arms and neck. Her golden hair fell loosely on her shoulders, while her eyes gazed dreamily to the cloudy sky above. At last I had certainly come upon the beauty of the family, for no maiden, however fair, could be more charming. For a moment I stood gazing as if spell- bound, then I resolutely walked forward, and in one word made myself known. Heavens ! what a change ! Amy leaped up from her rug. Biddy from her table, and Oona — as I heard the others call the beautiful dreamer — slipt quietly from her hammock, and came forward smil- ing with the rest ! There was a moment, just a moment of confused silence, then a wild cry of — 32 My Connaught Cousins, " Kate, Kate, do come out ! Here's cousin Jack ! " What happened after that I don't ex- actly know, but I was conscious of the presence of a somewhat buxom young woman of twenty, who stood in the door- way, addressed me as " Cousin Jack," and offered me her hand to shake and her cheek to kiss. Afterwards, using a cousin's privilege, I proceeded to kiss a few more cheeks, amongst which was the pretty pink and white one belonging to Oona, who, haviug recovered from her first start of surprise at my presence, accepted my salute with all the frankness of a child. To what length my ardour would have gone I am not prepared to say. I felt quite willing, however to kiss them all round again, if necessary, but my good intentions were summarily interru]3ted by the arrival of the car which I had deserted on the road, and which now appeared with my luggage. More confusion, more delighted laughter, My Connaiight Cousins. ^-iy and more words of welcome ! At a sum- mons from Kate there appeared upon the scene a couple of neatly-dressed servant- maids and a wild-looking Connaught boy ; one and all chattered to the driver in their unearthly tongue, while they possessed themselves of my goods. It must not be supposed that the girls were idle. Kate, — calm, self-possessed Kate, who had evidently been disturbed at her housekeeping — superintended the removal of my luggage, and gave her orders about it in the Irish language. Biddy was carry- ing in my fishing-rod, and a few loose parcels which were on the car. Oona was lifting down, with very tender hands, my strap full of books, while Amy, after having with a great deal of trouble silenced her yelping canine family, was staggering in beneath the weight of my ulster. It was certainly a new experience to me, but by no means an unpleasant one. Had I been more accustomed to female society, VOL. I. c 34 M^y Connaught Cottsi. 71S. and kept my wits about me, I sliould never liave allowed those pretty girls to turn themselves into serving-maids on my account ; but the novelty of the situation perfectly took away my breath and rendered me powerless. So I stood and looked on, feeling very much like a powerful Sultan, attended by the ladies of his court. At length the work was done. All my packages, both great and small, had been carried to my room ; the horses which had brought me thither had been led away to the stables, where they were to pass the night; and I stood in the spacious hall surrounded by the girls. " So you are my Connaught cousins ? " I said, looking at the cluster of up-turned faces. *' I must say, my dears, you are excessively jolly girls ! But I understood there were six of you ; where are the miss- ing two ? " " Nora and Aileen," said Kate, smiling, " are out riding, and papa has driven over My Coniiattght Cousms. 35 to the moor ; bat," she added, ghmcing at the face of a very old-fashioned clock which stood ill the hall, " he'll be in to dinner in less than half-an-hoiir, — and won't he be astonished to find you here ! " " Will he ? " " Why, of course he will ; do you suppose, if you had written to say you were coming, we should have allowed you to arrive like this 1 I had arranged to send the car over to Ballyferry for you ; it would have stayed there all night, and brought you back the next day. Papa, Aileen, and Nora, were to ride as far as Glenderig to have taken you some lunch, which you could have eaten there, and escorted you back. And to think that, after all, you should take us by surprise ! " I explained to Kate that 1 had written, fixing not only the day, but the hour of my arrival at Bally shanrany. Kathleen did not seem the least astonished, but she looked rather more annoyed. 36 My Connaught Cousins, " It's that Mickie the post ! " she said. " Sure it's time the work was taken away from him altogether, for he gets worse and worse. He hasn't brought me a letter for the last year that wasn't a month old at least. Last night he didn't deliver the letters at all. Shawn saw him at old Cormic's wake. Oh, cousin Jack, what inhospitable people you must have thought us to be sure !" I laughingly dispelled her fears, and in order to make things comfortable amongst us, I volunteered to say " How do you do?" all round again; the girls responded with heartiness to my offer of shaking hands ; when I offered to repeat my oscula- tory performance they laughingly drew back. " Well ! " I exclaimed, " I must hold to what I said just now. You are certainly nice girls — nobody would attempt to deny it — ^but you are not girls of your word. Wouldn't you let your father kiss you ? " *' Of course we would." My Connaught Cousins. ^j ** And did you not promise in your letter to treat me like papa ? " " Ah ! yes," said Kate bluntly ; " but then we hadn't seen you, and we thought you were more like him." " Indeed, and what made you think I was like him ? " " Well, you are a barrister, you know, and we had decided amongst ourselves that all barristers must be old-fashioned, whereas you are quite young and — and — " *' And very handsome," added Amy candidly. " Fll kiss you, cousin Jack." All the girls laughed, and said Amy's conduct was shameless, while I lifted her on to a chair and kissed her brown cheek not once but half-a-dozen times, after which she generously volunteered to conduct me to my rooms. CHAPTER III. ^J^m^HE lodge, though by no means ^O yn? palatial-looking from the outside, ^§4^1| must have been decidedly roomy within, since Kate had been able to set aside two very comfortable chambers for my sole and special use. The first room which I entered was a bedroom, furnished and fitted in a manner to suit the taste of the most fastidious of men. Everything was bright, clean, pleasant, and significant of a woman's careful hand. There were pretty lace draperies at the window, and snow- white hangings to the bed, freshly-plucked flowers on the dressing-table, while around My Connaught Cousins. 39 the open casement clustered full-blown roses and fuchsias, the scent of which filled the room. On putting my head out of the window and looking down, I saw Oona's hammock, containing now only a half-open book, Biddy's table covered with half-made cartridges, and one or two of Amy's dogs. Looking straight forward, I beheld a bound- less expanse of sea. Having finished my survey of the bed- chamber, I passed on into the tiny room adjoining, which was evidently intended for my private sitting-room or study. There was no sign of the dressing-room about it, and the efi'orts of the girls had evidently been exerted to make it as great a contrast as possible to the dimity whiteness of my sleeping-chamber. It was the smallest and cosiest of rooms. A comfortable carpet covered the floor; the furniture was of plain oak, but there was a sofa and easy-chair ; on the mantel|)iece, besides a brazen timepiece, was a jar full of 40 My Connaught Cousins. bird's-eye tobacco and a box of cigars ; and on the table, which was covered with a neat table-cloth, were a number of books. I glanced at the books, which had doubtless been selected for my special reading, and found them to consist of a New Testament, a guide-book to Connemara, Lord Byron's Poems (expurgated family edition, with Oona's name written on the fly-leaf), and an Irish treatise on fly-fishing. Nor was this all. Close to the window stood a pretty mahogany writing-desk, where I found sta- tionery, ink, pens, stamps, and even sheets of folios for scribbling, and a bronze read- ing lamp. There were more flowers here, both in the room and clustering outside the window, while the green trailing creepers contrasted pleasantly with the warm red curtains within. " My lines have fallen in pleasant places," I said, casting a last look around. Then, remembering Kate's words, " In half-an-hour papa will be in to dinner," I deemed the My Co7inatight Cousins. 41 best thing I could do would be to put my- self in order for the family meal. I re-entered my bedroom, laid out my things, pulled off my coat, and unbuttoned my collar, when my operations were sud- denly stopped, — for the sounds which issued from below announced the arrival of the missing members of the family. I looked out. First a couple of horses cantered up the gravel walk, and paused before the hall- door, then I heard the rattling of carriage- wheels, after which a hearty voice ex- claimed, — " What ! you don't mean to say he's arrived, Kate ! God bless my soul, where is he ? " A minute afterwards I heard a good sound rap at my door, and, on opening it, I beheld my uncle. One glance, and my heart went out to him ; he was a man whom nobody could dislike. He was adored by all his tenantry, 42 My Connaught Cousins. and idolised by bis girls. Now, for tbe first time, I could understand wby my motber's petted sister bad been induced to marry a man just twice ber age. I could understand also tbe unaffected candour of tbe girls. Kenmare was a gentleman from bead to foot, but tbere was no vestige in bim of self-consciousness or affectation. He was over sixty years of age, tall, broad- sbouldered, and firmly built ; bis bair and beard were of a pure iron grey, and bis face, tbougb bronzed and wrinkled, was band- some still. He was dressed in an old suit of nondescript brown, and tbe brown leg- gings, wbicb readied to bis knees, were covered witb bog-mire. He bad removed bis billycock bat, and tbe perspiration stood in beads upon bis brow. But bis face lit up into a brigbt smile wben be looked at me. " Well, my boy," be said, '' sure I am beartily glad to see you, and I bope, now you liave come, you mean to make a long l\Ty Conjtatight Cousins. 43 stay. Will you join me in a glass of grog ? or has Kate given you too much already V I confessed that since my arrival I had had nothing, and added hastily that I was not in need of anything ; but my uncle was not to be put off. " Nonsense, my boy ! " he exclaimed, " after a journey like that any man would want a glass, so you'll just come down with me. I always take half a glass when I come in from shooting. It keeps out the cold, and gives me an appetite for dinner. You haven't got your coat on ? Never mind — this is Liberty Hall ! " So saying, and in spite of my remon- strances, he took me downstairs and mar- shalled me into a room where two young ladies were sitting, clad in riding-habits, with • their round felt riding-hats pushed back on their heads. My uncle introduced the young ladies as "Alley" and "Nora," and disposed of me as their " Cousin Jack." The girls looked up, stared, and laughed, 44 ^y Connaught Cousins. then they rose, shook hands with me, and made off to dress for dinner. Kenmare turned to the waiting-maid, who was bring- ing in the cold water for his grog. " A glass for my nephew, Mary, my dear," he said, ** and when you're back in the kitchen tell that spalpeen Shawn to wake himself up a bit, for there's a new master for him at the lodge. Sure he's a lazy loon, but he knows his way about, and I mean him to look after Mr Stedman!" Then his eye fell upon Kate, who was passing on her way to the dining-room, and he exclaimed, — " Oh, Kate, Kate, where is all your Irish hospitality ? " " Sure, papa," returned Kate, blushing and laughing, ''it is not my fault. He arrived so suddenly ; he took us all so much by surprise, that I completely forgot he might be thirsty ! " Having disposed of my grog, I was al- My Connattght Cousins. 45 lowed to go to my room again, receiving this time special orders to dress quickly, for the dinner would not be long. My first care was to stand before the glass and examine myself critically. As I did so, I called up the imaginary picture w^hich the girls had drawn of me, and un- derstood the startled look of surprise which had come into their eyes, as they had rested the first time upon me. " Middle-aged, and old-fashioned ! " I was certainly neither. I was tall and slim, and despite my thirty years my worst enemy could not have accused me of looking more than twenty-five. Perhaps this last fact was owing to the lack of hair on my face, for beyond a slight moustache which shaded my upper lip, I had none. Having examined myself, and feeling rather pleased with the result, I turned from the glass and hurried on with my operations for dressing. I had brought a few suits with me, but they had been select- 46 My Connaught Cousins. ed more with a view to sport than ladies' society. True, I had been perfectly aware that I was about to be introduced into the society of half-a-dozen girls, but I had not thou2;ht the whole of them worth the car- riage of a suit of dress clothes. As I acknowledged this, and remembered how well a suit of dress clothes became me, I continued my dressing in anything but a contented frame of mind. I had finished, and was about to take another survey of myself in the glass, when a gong sounded loudly. I hastily descended the stairs, crossed the hall, and entered the dining-room. I was the last to arrive. There was my uncle, habited now in a suit of dark tweed, with spotless linen, which showed off to perfection his bronzed cheeks and iron-grey hair ; and there were the girls, all six of them, looking as fresh as new-blown roses, all nicely dressed in delicate whites and creams and pinks, and My Connmtght Cousins. 47 presenting as pretty a picture as one could liope to see on a summer's day. The only bit of shade was introduced by Kate, and she, being the oldest, and, as it were, the matron of the family, had thought it consistent with her matronly dignity to wear shades of a sombre hue. She was dressed that night in a costume of soft black lace, with slashings of amber, and she carried a couple of pale yellow roses at her throat and in her black hair. The dinner passed off merrily. We were waited upon by the couple of neat Irish colleens who had carried in my luggage. Both the food and the drink were good. My uncle kept us amused with some good stories ; and the girls had learnt the diffi- cult lesson of not to expect a lot of foolish attentions from a man when he's tired and hungry. They talked to their father and to each other ; but for the time being they were generous enough to let me alone. 48 My Connaught Cousins. During the dinner I felt grateful enough for their consideration ; but after the inner man was refreshed, and when all the girls had retired to the drawing-room, it was another matter. Then I began to long for their society ; so, presently seeing that my uncle was growing sleepy over his grog, I proposed that we should "join the ladies." Nothing loath he rose, and we repaired to the drawing-room together. All the girls were "there, and most of them were occupied ; but the one who attracted the most of my attention was Amy. She sat on the hearth, just as I had seen her sitting on the door-step, surrounded and almost smothered by that strange collection of dogs. The tiniest mite of the collection, a shaggy little ter- rier, was curled up in her lap ; while the sole desire of the others seemed to be to touch some part of her pretty little body. They rested their heads on her shoulder, they poked their cold noses into her little My Connmtght Cousins. 49 hands, they sniffed about her hair, they leisurely licked her brown cheek. I took my seat with the party, and by dint of a few well-applied questions, managed to make myself tolerably well acquainted with one and all. Thus I learned that Kate was not only the good fairy at home, but in the village ; that she helped the needy and cured the sick, taking very often the place of the