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Updated: June 10, 2025
There's no keep in' the crathurs oft o' you." "Begad, you must be a happy man, Mogue. I wish I was like you but whisper, man alive, why don't you look higher. "How is that?" asked the other, now apparently awakened to a new interest. "Mogue," said the pedlar, with something like solemnity of manner, "you and I are both embarked in the same ship, you know we know how things are to go.
"Well, but the thruth is, Mogue," replied his companion, "that I got a message from my mother, sayin' that she's not well, and wishes most partiklarly to see me about my sisther Shibby's marriage.
On the morning in question, Mogue and Jerry Joyce had been engaged in winnowing a large quantity of wheat in the barn.
"Not he, miss, he only turned to get a lob o' money from the Great College in Dublin above; sure they provide for any one that will turn, but he's a true Catholic at heart; air when the time comes he'll show it." "And you say he joins their meetings at night, Mogue?" "That I may be blest, but he does, miss; and since you must know the truth, he's at one o' them this very night."
M'Carthy, who had every confidence in Mogue, and, also, more than usual respect for him, in consequence of his apparent love of truth and religion, accompanied him without the slightest hesitation; feeling satisfied that his intimate acquaintance with the whole wild locality around them, was a proof that he would be able to keep his word.
He accordingly watched until an opportunity presented itself of addressing her apart from listeners; and in the course of the morning, as she went to look after some favorite flowers in the garden, he met her at the gate. "Miss Julia," said he, "I wish to spake one word to you, i' you plaise, miss." "Well, Mogue, what is it?"
There was certainly a second Declan, a disciple of St. Virgilius, to whom the latter committed care of a church in Austria where he died towards close of eighth century. Again we find mention of a St. Declan who was a foster son of Mogue of Ferns, and so on. Great men are so rare! Is it likely there should have lived two saints of the same name in the same country!
"Well, but you know all the outs and ins of the house, the rooms and passages, and everything that way so thoroughly, that one could depend upon your account of them." You don't like M'Carthy?" "To be sure I do, as the devil does holy wather." "Well," proceeded Mogue, "I've a thing in my head about him but sure he's in the black list as it is." "Well, what is it you have in your head about him?"
Letty was a well-tempered, faithful girl, honest and conscientious, but not without a considerable relish for humor, and with more than ordinary talents for carrying on either a practical joke or any other piece of harmless humbug, a faculty in which she was ably supported by a fellow-servant of a very different description from Mogue, named Jerry Joyce.
The words were scarcely uttered, when our friends, M'Carthy and Mogue, made their appearance in the caretaker's house, both evidently in a fatigued state, especially M'Carthy, who had not been so well accustomed to travel over mountain scenery as his companion. "Well, blessed be God that we have got the roof of a house over us at last!" exclaimed Mogue.
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