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THE PRIEST'S HORSE. Proficies nihil hoc, cædas licet usque flagello, Si tibi purpureo de grege currit equus,

Martial. Lib. xiv. Epig. 55.

It is not many weeks since I dined with a Roman Catholic family in the neighbourhood of Dublin. I had been but a few minutes in the dining-room, when I found that the centre of attraction, "the observved of all observers," was a very old gentleman, whose dress, appearance, and demeanour, at once betrayed him to me as one of the old Catholic Clergymen of Ireland. Father, or, as he was most generally termed, Doctor Reilly, seemed to be in age not less than seventy years; and the abstraction of his manner, before dinner, as to every thing passing around him, would induce the belief that he had already attained his second childhood. His face was that of pure, rich, bright scarlet, which can neither be imparted to the countenance by the consumption of an extra-quantity of whisky punch, nor its still more VOL. IX.

See page 467.

vulgar and stupifying predecessor, portwine. No, it was a tint " more exquisite still," which claret, that sober, sedate, cool and delicious liquid, can alone communicate to "the human face divine." The dress of the clergyman was evidently as antiquated as his complexion. The head was surmounted by a little, close, brown wig, divided by a single curl, and which appeared to be pasted to the pericranium on which it was fixed. Around his neck was a neat, black silk stock, over which a milkwhite muslin band was turned. His black coat was cut in the manner of the primitive quakers; his dark silk waistcoat had large flaps which nearly covered the whole of his "nether garment," and that was fastened at the knees by large silver clasps, while thick silk stockings embraced his plump little legs; and then, his square-toed shoes were nearly concealed from the view by the enormous silver buckles placed upon them. I was assured by several, that the little old gentleman, whom I had not heard give utterance to a single word, was one of the most

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pleasant men I could meet with; and that after dinner, he would amuse me extremely. I could perceive no outward mark of genius about the Reverend Doctor; he took no notice of the conversation that was going on around him; and the only demonstration of intelligence I could discover in him, was the somewhat hasty glance he occasionally turned to the door, (as each new visiter was announced), as if he expected that the welcome news of "Dinner on the table" was about being proclaimed to him. To me he appeared like the canon in Gil Blas, as one disposed to partake of the good things that might be laid before him at the festive board, but neither inclined nor capacitated to increase their pleasures by any contribution of wit or fancy.

Dinner, that grand epoch in the history of the day, was at last announced ; ladies, even in an Irish assembly, were forgotten, and twenty hands were stretched out to the Doctor to conduct him to the dining-room. At dinner, I heard nothing of the Doctor until the first flask of Champaigne was uncorked; and then there broke upon the ear a mellow, little voice, in which the polished brogue of the Irish gentleman, softened down by the peculiarity of a French accent, could be distinguished. The voice, I was told, belonged to the Doctor, who was just then asking Mrs. our hostess, to take wine with him. At each remove the voice became stronger; and by the time that the dessert was on the table, the tones of the Doctor's voice were full, loud, and strong, and it was soon permitted to sweep, uncontrolled, over the entire range of the society. The puny punsters became dumb, the small talkers were silent; and no man, nor woman either," presumed to open their mouths except to laugh at his Reverence's anecdotes, or to imbibe the good things which my worthy friend L had set before them.

I have heard story-tellers, in my time, but never felt the pleasure in listening to them, that I did in attending to the anecdotes of the Reverend Doctor Reilly. The manner, the look, and the tone, added, I know, considerably to the effect; but such are the gifts of a good story-teller, and they can neither be transferred to paper, nor communicated by an oral retailer. One great charm, too, for me, in all these stories, was, that the narrator was, in some way or another, concerned in thein. There was, to be sure, egotism in this; but

then, it was an egotism that gave a verisimilitude to every thing he told, and you believed that he was not mentioning any thing which he did not know to be a fact, however strange, extraordinary, or improbable it might seem to be. Amongst the other stories told by Doctor Reilly was the following, which I have endeavoured to report verbatim et literatim, as I heard it.

"Never, my children, never borrow a priest's horse-it's an unlucky thing to do, for many reasons. First, if the priest's horse is a good one, he does not like to lend it. Next, if it is a bad one, and the priest says he will lend it, the moment you ask for it, you may happen to break your neck, or your leg, or may-be your nose, and thereby spoil your beauty. And, lastly, a priest's horse has so many friends, that if you are in a hurry, it will be shorter for you to walk than to wait for the horse to pay its visits. It is now more than fifty years since I gave the very counsel, that I am now administering to you, to Kit M'Gowran, one of my parishioners; but he thought, as may-be many of you think, that the priest was a fool, but he found the difference in a short time, as may-be most of you will before you die.

"As well as I recollect, it was in the year 1789, that I was parish priest of Leixlip, and at that time Kit M3Gowran was, of a farmer lad, one of my wealthiest parishioners. He had land on an old lease, and might have been a grand juror now, if he had minded the potatoes growing; but instead of that, Kit was always up in Dublin, playing rackets and balls, and drinking as much whisky in a week, as would float a canal boat through a lock. For two or three years, Kit was but little seen in the parish, though I must say to his credit, he always sent me my dues regularly, so that you perceive he was not a reprobate entirely. I was sorry to hear the neighbours talking bad of him, and was thinking of looking after him some time or another, when I would have nothing else to do; when one day, Kit came into my house dressed out in the pink of the fashion of that time. He was then what they called, I believe, a macaroni, and was the same sort of animal, that is now termed a dandy. He had a little hat, that would not go on a good ploughman's fist; his hair was streeling down his back and over his shoulders; the buttons on his coat were the size of saucepans, and the skirts of the coat hung down behind to the small of his leg; he had two watches, one on

each side of his stomach, a waistcoat that did not cover his breast, and light leather small-clothes that came down below the calf, and were fastened there with bunches of ribbons, that were each as big as cauliflowers. Kit I saw was in great spirits, and had evidently some mad project in his head; but that, you know, was none of my business, if he did not choose to tell me of it. I had not, however, to ask him; for he mentioned at once what brought him to his parish priest. Poor Kit laboured under a great defect, for he stuttered so dreadfully, that you should know him for seven years before you could understand a word he said to you. He had a tongue that was exactly like a one-nibbed pen, -which will splutter and splash, and tease, and vex you, and do every thing but express the sentiments of your mind. "Kit told me, in his own way, that he was going to be married the next day to a Miss Nelly Brangan, a rich huckster's daughter in Dublin, who was bringing him a large fortune, and that he had accordingly, as in duty bound, come to me for his 'sar-tifi-cat;' and as a propitiation to me for the bad life he had led, he gave me a golden guinea, and a very neat miniature of the same coin. I could not refuse my certificate to such a worthy parishioner; and after wishing him long life and happiness, and plenty of boys and girls, I thought Kit would be after bidding me good morning. Kit, I found, had still something upon his mind. I asked him if I could oblige him farther. 'Why, Father Reilly,' says Kit, that is a mighty purty little black horse of yours.' "It is indeed, child,' I answered; but it is very apt to go astray; for it left me for a week, and only returned to me last night. Ah! then, Father Reilly,' says he,' it would be mighty respectable to see me riding up to-morrow morning to Miss Nelly Brangan's shopdoor with such an elegant black horse under me. May-be you'd lend me a loan of it?' 'Indeed, child, I will,' I replied, but I would not advise you to take it; for my horse has a way of its own and I have many friends between this and Dublin, that may-be it would sooner see than go to your wedding.' 'Oh! as to that,' answered Kit, if it was the devil himself, begging your Reverence's pardon, I'd make him trot; -so lend me the horse and I'll send it back to you to-morrow evening.'< Take it then, Kit,' said I; but I warn you that it is an uneasy beast.'

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"It was not until eight o'clock the

next morning that Kit M'Gowran came for the horse, and, in addition to his dress the day before, he had a pair of spurs on him that would do for a fighting cock, they were so long and so sharp; and a whip that was like a fishing-rod.

"Well, Kit,' says I,' when are you to be married?"

"Atten, your Reverence,' answered Kit,' at ten to the minute.'

"Then, Kit, my boy,' said I, 'you should have been here at six to be in time, since you intend to ride the black horse.'

"Oh! bother,' said Kit; 'sure I am only six miles from town, and it's hard if I don't ride that in an hour, so that in fact I'll be before my time, and that wont be genteel; for may-be I'd catch Nelly Brangan with her hair in papers; and she wont look lovely that way, I know, whatever charms there may be in the butter-cool of gold guineas that the darling is going to give me.'

"Well, mount at once,' I observed, though I would advise you, if you are in a hurry- to walk.'

"I had hardly said the word, when Kit jumped into the saddle, and gave his horse a whip and a spur-and off it cantered, as if it were in as great a hurry to be married as Kit himself. I followed them as fast as I could to the top of the hill, and there was Kit cutting the figure of six like any cavalry officer with his whip, and now and again plunging his heels into the horse's sides, and it kicking the stones before and behind it, and tattering over the road like lightning. In half a minute they were both out of my sight, and I thought that if any one could get to Dublin with the horse in an hour, Kit M'Gowran was the man to do it.

"For two miles of the road Kit went on gallantly. He was laughing and joking, and thinking to himself that I was only humbugging him in what i said about the horse, when in the very middle of a hard gallop, it stopped as if it had been shot, and up went Kit M'Gowran in the air, his long whip firmly fixed in his hand, and his long coat flying like a kite's tail after him, and the words, Who had the luck to see Donnybrook fair,' in his mouth; and he had not time to cease saying them when he was landed head over heels in a meadow, seven or eight yards from the centre of the road! Kit was completely puzzled by the fall, he could not tell how he got there, or what caused it, or why he should be there at

all, instead of being on the horse's back, until he looked about him, and saw the creature taking a fine comfortable drink at a little well by the side of the road, where I always stopped to refresh it. Kit after scratching his head, and his elbows, and the back of his coat; and indeed they required it-for they were a little warmer than when he set out-went over to the horse, mounted it, and rode off again on his journey; but I give you my word he did not gallop so fast nor use the whip so much as he had before the horse took a sup of the well water.

"The horse rode on as peaceable as a judge, and as if it were a poor priest, and not a rollocking young layman that was on its back; it went on so for about three quarters of a mile further, but when it got that distance Kit began to wonder at the way it was edging over to the right side of the road. Kit pulled to the left, but the horse still held on to the right; and while they were arguing this point with one another, the day. coach from Dublin kept driving up to them. The guard sounded his horn, as much as to say, 'Kit M'Gowran, don't be taking up the entire road with yourself and your horse.' Kit knew very well what the guard meant, and he gave a desperate drag to his own (the left) side of the road; but the horse insisted upon the right, and the coach driving up in the same line, the leaders knocked up against my horse, and sent it and Kit into the ditch together to settle there any little difference of opinion that might be between them! How long Kit lay in the ditch he could not rightly tell; but when he got out of it, he went to look after the horse, and about five yards nearer to Dublin than where the accident had happened, he found the little darling taking a feed of oats, which it always got from one of my parishioners, when I travelled that road; and now that he is dead and gone, poor man! (Tim Divine was his name,) 1 must say 1 never got any thing else from him. Kit waited patiently till the horse had eaten its fill, and he then looked at one of his watches, and it told him that it was ten o'clock, and he then looked at the other, and it as plainly shewed him that it was nine to the minute. Kit knew how his watches went, and he accordingly guessed that the truth lay between them; so that he found he had but half an hour to go a distance of four miles at least, to where he was to be married.

"Kit determined if he was to brea

his neck in the attempt, that he would be in Dublin to the minute he had promised, so that the instant he was on the horse's back again, he began cutting, and whipping, and spurring the beauty as hard and fast as his hands and legs would go—his legs particularly were working as fast as the arms of a windmill on a stormy day. The horse was not at first disposed to resent any indignity that was offered to it, particularly after the good feed and the good drink that it had got, so that it trotted on pretty quickly for half a mile or so; but Kit still continuing to whip and spur it, it first let on to him by one or two kicks, that it was displeased; but Kit not taking the hint, it stagged entirely. Kit lashed more furiously than he had done before—the horse curvetted about the road-it reared-it prancedit kicked-it went in a circle round the same point fifty times. Kit leathered away with his long whip upon its ears, and nose, and the horse backed and backed, until it at last left Kit back at Tim Divine's door, from which he had started about an hour before! Tim was astonished to see the animal so soon coming back to him for another feed; but having been informed by Kit of the way he had misbehaved towards it, Tim became the interpreter for the poor dumb creature, and told the rider that the best manner of managing it was to let it go as it liked.

"Poor Kit resigned himself to his fate; that he should be late at his own wedding, he saw was inevitable; he was now too much tired to walk, and with a sigh he flung the reins on the horse's neck, and encouraged it to proceed again towards Dublin. It set off a second time from Divine's door; but ceased to gallop, to canter, or to troton it went at a most discreet pace, and as sober and as melancholy as if it had felt sorry for disappointing him, or that it was travelling with myself to a friend's funeral.

"Kit could at last hear the town bells striking one o'clock-he was at IslandBridge, and within view of Dublin-he could see Patrick's steeple pointing up into the sky, and looking as stiff and conceited as if it were rejoiced at the annoyance of a Papist, while the arches of "Bloody-bridge" seemed to be laughing to their full extent at the impudence of such a young fellow riding into Dublin upon no less a horse than the favourite pony of the parish priest of Leixlip! So at least, Kit was thinking, when the creature remembered that I

always stopped a day or two with Mrs. Robinson, a kind, good-body of a widow woman, that lived at the end of the bridge. In there it plunged; to the narrow little hole of a stable, never thinking of my friend Kit on its back, and in entering the door, he was swept clean of its back, and left stretched upon a dunghill, with his nose, face, and hands all scratched, by the newdashed wall against which he had been driven! He cursed, but that he found did not cure his hands; he swore, but that he perceived did not improve his appearance; so that he soon desisted from such modes of venting his passion; and after washing his hands, putting a few plaisters on his face, rubbing the dirt off his small-clothes, and coaxing the little horse out of the small stable, he again mounted, and rode off for Dublin,- -a far uglier, and less consequential personage, than when he had cantered up the hill of Leixlip that morning.

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"Kit was now in Barrack-streethe was, at two o'clock, just four hours after the stated time in the city! Now,' thought Kit to himself, my troubles are at length all over, and I have only to make the best apology I can for my unaccountable absence to my darling Mrs. M'Gowran, that is to be my little bride-the wealthy Miss Nelly Brangan that was.' Such were Kit thoughts, when he heard two men talking behind him

"Paddy, isn't that the horse we were bid to be on the look-out for?'

"By dad, Dennis, if it isn't, it's very like it ;-and do you see the fellow that's riding it? He is mighty like the chap that was hung for horse-stealing at the last assizes.'

"So like, Paddy, that if it is isn't him, I'd take my oath it's one of the same gang. The horse, you know, is missing these five days; and do you see the patches on the robber's face that's to disguise himself. A decent dressed man wouldn't be in a fight, like one of us, Paddy, when we get a sup in our head.'

That's true for you, Dennis; and see, it has lob-ears, wall-eyes, baldface, and a docked tail;-it's the very borse. By my sowkins, we'll seize him, he's a robber.'

"To be sure we will, Paddy,-he's a robber, and an unchristian robber too, to steal from a priest! Knock him down, Paddy!'

"That I will, and welcome, Dennis!' "Kit was in the act of turning round

to see a robber seized, when he felt his arms grappled by two stout friezecoated countrymen, who both exclaimed in the same moment- Where did you get the horse, you robber?'

"Poor stuttering Kit stammered out, ' I—I—I—g—g-g-got it-it-it—' "Where, you sacrilegious thief?' "In L-1-1-Leixlip,' said Kit, after many minutes, and twisting his tongue like a ha'p'orth of tobacco, in his mouth, to make himself understood. "Oh! the villain,' said Paddy,' he has confessed it.'

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"Yes he has, the scoundrel,' exclaimed Dennis; and do you see the confusion of the fellow-he can't speak, he is so frightened at the thought of being hanged. Drag him off the horse, and take him to the police office.'

"In a minute Kit was torn from the horse. A crowd collected around him, who were immediately informed by Paddy and Dennis, that they had seized a robber, who had 'stolen a priest's horse, and was going to sell him in Dublin.' Poor Kit was instantly assailed by the mob-his two watches dragged out of his fobs-his new coat torn to pieces-his little hat kicked to nothing and his pantaloons covered with mud. Several times he attempted to say that he had got a loan of the horse; but the people were in too great a rage to attend to his stuttering, and he was dragged into the police office. Paddy and Dennis preferred a charge of horse-stealing against him; and he was such a dirty-looking blackguard, that the police officers at once handcuffed him, advised him to plead guilty, and removed. him into the black hole, where he passed the night!

"But this did not end the misfortunes of unlucky Kit M'Gowran; for Miss Nelly Brangan, after inviting all her friends to a wedding dinner, and a large evening party, was determined that they should not be disappointed. She waited patiently for Kit until the dinner was dressed, and then-bestowed her hand and fortune upon one of her neighbours, a Mr. James Devoy, who was to be bridesman to Kit; but who, in his absence, resolved to discharge those duties for which Kit had been particularly engaged.

"This, my young friends, I hope will be a warning to you. Never borrow a priest's horse, lest you should lose by the loan, a wife, a fortune, your liberty, two watches, and a new coat."

Tait's Edin. Mag.

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