Part 11

“Wait till you grows saisoned to it,” answers the king, “an’ you wouldn’t give up your pipe for all the goold in the mint.”

“Tell that to the marines,” says Rolly. “Might I venture to ax what was the stuff you wor settin’ fire to in the pipe and stinkin’ the place wud?”

“Twist tobaccy,” says the king.

“’Tis the divil’s own twist!” says Rolly. “Do many of ye practise the thrick in these parts?”

“Every wan of us,” answers the king.

“A wondher I never noticed any of ye on my former thrip to the counthry!” says Rolly.

“Aisily explained,” says the king. “You wor a sthranger thin, an’ we makes a rule of never smokin’ before sthrangers.”

“I suppose it’s this tobaccy that turns ye all so black in the skin,” says Rolly.

“That’s a good joke,” says the king, wud a hearty laugh. “No, Rolly,” says he, “it don’t turn us black, but it turns some of us green, just like yerself a while back.” An’ thin he bursts out laughin’ again until he nearly shuk the ring out of his nose.

“You’re in good humour this mornin’,” says Rolly, as vexed as if some one was afther passin’ a bad half-sovereign on him.

“Arrah, don’t be so glum in yerself!” says the king. “An’ believe me what I’m tellin’ you, that there’s a fortune in this tobaccy for you if you could only inthroduce it into your own counthry. I know it wants a thrainin’, but, as I’ve said before, wance you takes to it you wouldn’t give it up for all the goold in the mint. You’d go on wan meal a day rather than do wudout the pipe.”

“I know you’re a thruthful man,” says Rolly, “an’ if you’re in airnest now, of coorse I’ll go into any thrainin’ you recommend in ordher to make money out of tobaccy, or any other mortal thing.”

“Well, my advice to you,” says the king, “is to buy a ha’penny cane an’ cut into junks of about three inches long. Smoke wan of ’em a day for a week, an’ thin I’ll get you some mild tobaccy an’ a new clay pipe. I was thrained on a cane meself,” says the king.

“I’ll take you at your word,” says Rolly, “though it seems very poor fun to me.”

“You’ll change your mind in the coorse of a week or two,” says the King of Virginny. “Don’t throw up the sponge if the stomach kicks agen the cane in the start.”

“I’ll give it every chance,” says Rolly; and wud that he starts out an’ buys the cane, an’ every mornin’ for a week he had an odd puff at it. The first few days he was as sick as a dog, an’ his face was as green as a head of cabbage, but he sthrove on, an’ towards the end of a week he began to take a likin’ to his smoke, an’ twas wud a light heart he wint to the palace an’ axed the king for the loan of the pipe wud the mild tobaccy.

The king was mighty proud at the success of his thrainin’, an’ he loaded the pipe wud the dhriest an’ the mildest brand he could lay howld of. Sure enough, Rolly was greatly plaized wud his _shough_, an’ every day for another week he used go out an’ hide undher a hedge, or in a hay-loft, an’ have a dhraw out of his new ha’porth of clay. At the end of that week, man or mortial couldn’t keep him from the pipe, an’ then he felt the thruth of the King of Virginny’s words.

“Begor,” says he to himself, “my fortune ’ud be made if I could only smuggle a few cargoes of this tobaccy into the ould counthry. An’ sure it ought to be aisy enough to ‘run’ it,” says he, “if I only goes the right way about it.”

As soon as he made up his mind to thrade on the tobaccy, he could think of nothing but plans for dodgin’ the revenue men; an’ at last he decided that the aisiest and most likely way ’ud be to purtend it was potayties he was carryin’ in the ships. So he sthrikes a bargain wud the King of Virginny, an’ buys up the whole saison’s crop. Then he goes down to the harbour an’ he laives word at the custom-house to have Captain Murphy, the same skipper that brought the first load of spuds to Munsther, sent up to his lodgin’s.

As he was goin’ back home from the custom-house, who does he spy comin’ along the sthreet but the identical Captain Murphy! They both cotched sight of wan another in the distance at the same time, an’ Rolly was sthruck wud surprise to notice the way the skipper thried to purtend he was doin’ nothing when his employer first spotted him.

“Depind on it,” says he to himself, “Murphy is up to some dodge; but I’ll work it out of him or know for what.”

Well, aich man walks on until he meets the other.

“Good morra, skipper,” says Rolly.

“Good morra, sir,” says the skipper, touchin’ his cap, an’ thin dhrawin’ his hand back undher his coat-tails again.

“Admirin’ the sighths, I suppose?” says Rolly.

“Ay, sir,” says the skipper in an onaisey sort of a way. “I wondher is there any chance at all of gettin’ a load of the Champions this thrip?”

“I’m afeard not,” says Rolly, “an’ it sthrikes me ye’ll all have to go home as ye came, in ballast.”

“Well, sure,” says the skipper, “it’s as hard on you as it is on us, sir; an’ I was goin’ to remark to you, that I don’t mind goin’ back in ballast, an’ cryin’ off the prisent charther.”

“Begor, that’s ginerosity indeed,” says Rolly; “but I couldn’t think of threspassin’ on you so far.”

Of coorse Sir Walther knew right well that the skipper had some dodge in his mind whin he offered to let him off the charter so aisy. “Maybe ’tis discovered a saycrit mine of goold-dust the fellow has,” says he to himself.

So he looked hard at the captain, an’ as he did he saw a curl of smoke risin’ up behind him.

“Murphy!” shouts Rolly, twiggin’ at wance the skipper’s game, “your coat is a-fire!” An’ before you could say “knife,” Sir Walther rushes to a pump that was handy, an’ takin’ a pail of wather off an ould Virginny woman’s head, he throws it over the skipper an’ nearly dhrownded the poor man.

“Are you quenched yet?” axes Rolly wud a grin.

“I am, sir,” says the skipper. “Sure, I see by the grin on you that you’ve found me out. I confess I was taken a _shough_ of a pipe when you first cotched sighth of me.”

“Ah!” says Rolly, “an’ that was your game, was it? To thry an’ smuggle a cargo of tobaccy home on your own account unbeknownst to me!”

“Sure, I didn’t know you’d ever heard of the weed,” says the poor skipper.

“Didn’t you?” says Rolly. “That’s a poor excuse, an’ a dirty wan too. An’ so that’s what made you so ginerous in offerin’ to let me off the charther?”

“Well, to tell the thruth, it was,” says Captain Murphy.

“Whin did you discover this tobaccy?” axes Rolly.

“Only this thrip,” says the skipper. “An’ ould squaw here whom I dale wud for groceries, let me into the saycrit of it.”

“Does any of the other captains or crews know of it?”

“To the best of my belief they don’t,” answers Captain Murphy.

“Very well,” says Rolly. “Now act fair an’ square wud me, an’ I’ll dale fair an’ square wud you.”

“It’s a bargain,” says the skipper.

“Well,” says Rolly, “I may tell you I’ve bought up the whole saison’s crop of tobaccy here, an’ my idaya is to fill all the ships wud it, an’ I think I’ll be able to scrape up enough spuds to make a few layers of ’em for the top of aich of the ships, so we can report ourselves in the ould counthry as bein’ loaded wud potayties an’ other green stuffs, an’ if you can keep a close tongue in your head there’s no raison to prevint us runnin’ every pound of the tobaccy ashore wudout payin’ a farden of duty.”

“An’ what’s to be my share of the swag?” axes Captain Murphy.

“I wish,” says Rolly, “you wouldn’t use such coorse langwidge in spaykin’ to me. There’s no swag in it at all, only fair thradin’; an’ it isn’t onraisonable to allow a little rope to such benefacthors of mankind as we’ll be whin the tobaccy is well inthroduced.”

“Faix!” says Captain Murphy, laughin’, “I’m afeard it’s a long allowance of rope they’d be givin’ you, Sir Walther, if they cotched you smugglin’ tobaccy.”

“You’re an ignorant ruffian to spayke like that to me,” says Rolly, who always had his last end in view.

“I humbly begs pardon,” says the skipper; “but sure we’re both in the wan boat now.”

By this time Rolly was in a fair rage, for he couldn’t stand bein’ put on a par wud a common skipper, an’ he knew the man was wudin his rights in makin’ the remarks he did; for of coorse whin two people conthract to do any dodge agen the law they’re to all intints an’ purposes birds of a feather. So Rolly thought ’twas best to argue no further wud Captain Murphy, but to give him full insthructions about loadin’ the ships an’ suchlike.

Well, in due coorse, the fleet sails out of Virginny an’ before they thripped anchor Rolly made a last call on the king, an’ the king sent for the Court Tobaccy-Curer, who gave Sir Walther full insthructhions about the rearin’ an’ manufacturin’ of the weed.

“I’m greatly obliged to your Majesty,” says Rolly, before laivin’ the palace; “an’ I’ve decided to christen my first consignment of tobaccy ‘Naygro-head,’ afther your own self; an’ more than that,” says he, “as soon as I can get to win’ard of the gover’ment of my own counthry, an’ secure a licence for the sole supplyin’ of the weed, I’ll make it a rule to have a plasther cast of yerself stuck up over every shop where they sells pipes an’ tobaccy. In that way, your Majesty,” says he, “your picthur’ll go down to our childre’s childre as wan of the greatest benefacthors of the human race that ever dhrilled a hole in his nose.”

Begor, the poor king was so touched wud the beautiful langwidge of Sir Walther that he fell on him an’ wept a flood of tears over Rolly’s shouldher; an’ ’twas as much as about a dozen of his wives could do to tear his arms from the neck of the great Undhertaker.

Well, there must be an end of a story some time, an’ the end of this is dhrawin’ nigh.

Rolly’s fleet missed Cork Harbour, owin’ to change of win’, an’ the first Irish land they got a grip of was the enthrance of the Shannon. Sir Walther had no throuble at all in dodgin’ the Revenue officers, an’ he landed all the cargoes of tobaccy safe an’ sound at Limerick Quay, an’ got ’em into a warehouse wudout payin’ a single farden of duty.

Then he started makin’ Limerick Twist, an’ down he goes to Youghal an’ plants a few hundhred acres wud some of the hardiest leafs; an’ shortly afther, his Munsther property havin’ got into the hands of the Cavendish family, he christened the first crop raised on the Youghal estate, “Cavendish” tobaccy.

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_Waverley._ _Ivanhoe._ _Kenilworth._ _Guy Mannering._ _Antiquary._ _Rob Roy._ _Old Mortality._ _The Black Dwarf_, and _A Legend of Montrose_. _Bride of Lammermoor._ _Heart of Mid-Lothian._ _The Monastery._ _The Abbot._ _The Pirate._ _Fortunes of Nigel._ _Peveril of the Peak._ _Quentin Durward._ _St. Ronan’s Well._ _Redgauntlet._ _The Betrothed_, and _Highland Widow_. _The Talisman._ _Woodstock._ _Fair Maid of Perth._ _Anne of Geierstein._ _Count Robert of Paris._ _The Surgeon’s Daughter._ Paper, 25 cents each.

ELIZABETH M. SEWELL.

_Amy Herbert._ _Cleve Hall._ _The Earl’s Daughter._ _Experience of Life._ _Gertrude._ _Ivors._ A Story of English Country Life. _Katharine Ashton._ _Margaret Percival._ _Ursula._ _Laneton Parsonage._ 12mo, cloth, $1.00 each; per set in box, $10.00.

HAWLEY SMART.