Fardorougha the Miser
by William Carleton
Chapter One - part 1

To the left waved a beautiful hazel glen, which gradually expanded into the meadows above mentioned. Up behind the house stood an ancient plantation of whitethorn, which, during the month of May, diffused its fragrance, its beauty, and its melody over the whole farm. The plain garden was hedged round by the graceful poplar, whilst here and there were studded over the fields either single trees or small groups of mountain-ash, ~l tree still more beautiful than the former. The small dells about the farm were closely covered with blackthorn and holly, with an occasional oak shooting up from some little cliff, and towering sturdily over its lowly companions. Here grew a thick interwoven mass of dog-tree, and upon a wild hedge-row, leaning like a beautiful wife upon a rugged husband, might be seen supported by clumps of blackthorn, that most fragrant and exquisite of creepers the delicious honeysuckle. Add to this the neat appearance of the farm itself, with its meadows and corn-fields waving to the soft sunny breeze of summer, and the reader may admit, that without possessing any striking features of pictorial effect, it would, nevertheless, be difficult to find all up-lying farm upon which the eye could rest with greater satisfaction.

This brief description we deemed it necessary to give of a place which, however humble, will be found the scene of the darkest and tenderest passions of the human heart.

It was on one of those nights in August, when the moon and stars shine through an atmosphere clear and cloudless with a mildness of lustre almost vontinental, that a horseman, advancing at a rapid pace, turned off a remote branch of road up a narrow lane, and, dismounting before a neat white-washed cottage, gave a quick and impatient knock at the door. Almost instantly, out of a small window that opened on hinges, was protruded a broad female face, surrounded, by way of nightcap, with several folds of flannel, that had originally been white.
      "Is Mary Moan at home?" said the horseman.
      "For a maricle–ay!" replied the female; "who's down in the name o' goodness?"
      "Why, thin, I'm thinkin' you'll be smilin' whin you hear it," replied the messenger. "The sorra one else than Honor Donovan, that's now marrid upon Fardorougha Donovan to the tune of thirteen year. Bedad, time for her, any how–but, sure it 'ill be good whin it comes, we're thinkin'." "Well, betther late than never–the Lord be praised for all his gifts, any how! Put your horse down to the mountin' stone, and I'll be wid you in half a jiffy, acushla."
      She immediately drew in her head, and ere the messenger had well placed his horse at the aforesaid stirrup, or mounting-stone, which is an indispensable adjunct to the midwife's cottage, she issued out, cloaked and bonneted; for, in point of fact, her practice was so extensive, and the demands upon her attendance so incessant, that she seldom, if ever, slept, or went to bed, unless partially dressed. And such was her habit of vigilance, that she ultimately became an illustration of the old Roman proverb, Non dormio omnibus; that is to say, she could sleep as sound as a top to every possible noise except a knock at the door, to which she might be said, during the greater part of her professional life, to have been instinctively awake.
      Having ascended the mounting-stone, and placed herself on the crupper, the guide and she, while passing down the narrow and difficult lane, along which they could proceed but slowly and with caution, entered into the following dialogue, she having first turned up the hood of her cloak over her bonnet, and tied a spotted cotton kerchief round her neck.
      "This," said the guide, who was Fardorougha Donovan's servantman, "is a quare enough business, as some o' the nabours do be sayin'–marrid upon one another beyant thirteen year, an' ne'er a sign of a haporth till now. Why then begad it is quare."
      "Whisht, whisht," replied Molly, with an expression of mysterious and superior knowledge, "don't be spakin' about what you don't understand–sure, nuttin's impossible to God, avick–don't you know that?"
      "Oh, bed ad, sure enough–that we must allow, whether or no!;– still"–
      "Very well; seein' that, what more have we to say, barrin' to hould our tongues. Childre sent late always come either for great good or great sarra to their paarents–an' God grant that this may be for good to the honest people–for indeed honest people they are, by all accounts. But what myself wonders at is, that Honor Donovan never once opened her lips to me about it. However, God's will be done! The Lord send her,. safe over all her throubles, poor woman! And, now that we're out o' this thief of a lane, lay an for the bare life, and never heed me. I'm as good a horseman as yourself; and, indeed, I've a good right, for I'm an ould hand at it."
      "I'm thinkin'," she added, after a short silence, "it's odd I never was much acquainted with the Donovans. I'm tould they're a hard pack, that loves the money, honest as they are."
      "faix," replied her companion, "let Bardorougha alone for knowin' the value of a shillin'!–they're not in Europe can hould a harder grip of one."
      His master, in fact, was a hard frugal man, and his mistress a woman of somewhat a similar character: both Were strictly honest, but, like many persons to whom God has denied offspring, their hearts had for a considerable time before been placed upon mOney as their idol; for, in truth, the affections must be fixed upon something, and we generally find that where children are denied, the world comes in and hardens by its influence the best and tenderest sympathies of humanity.
     

Find out how the household is affected by the arrival of the midwife:here