“Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, You see them, lords of all around, pass by;”
and Og reigneth once more in Basan. He is precious and he has his privileges. “I think” (said Phil from the hob) “that nobody has a better right to the run of the house, whedher up stairs or down stairs, than him that pays the rint” Such is the great destiny of the Irish pig. He is not associated in the prospective contemplations of his owner with low views of pork and sausages; for Paddy says, with Launcelot, “if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on the coals for money,” and
“As for eating a rasher of what they take pride in, They'd as soon think of eating the pan it is fryed in. 1
but he represents the generous friend and benefactor, who is about to render an important service at considerable personal discomfort.
1 In their pleasant volume, “The West and Connamara.” Goldsmith's “Letter to Lord Clare.”
It was washing-day at one of the cabins, and a great variety of wearing apparel was hung out to dry. We could not discover a single article which at all resembled anything known to us, or which a schoolboy would have accepted for any part of his Faux.
Nevertheless, one likes the people of the Claddagh; they seem to be honest, industrious, and good-tempered, and they have, at least, one great virtue--like Lady Godiva, they are “clothed on with chastity.” Sir Francis Head, who had the best means of getting information from the police, and used them with his exhaustive energy, could not hear that there had ever been an illegitimate child born in the Claddagh. They never intermarry with strangers, and “_their marriages are generally preceded by an elopement_” (vide the article on “_Galway_,” in the _Encyclopodia Britannica_, which one is surprised to find discoursing on such festive pleasantries), “_and followed by a boisterous merry-making_.”
As schoolboys, to whom “next half” begins to-morrow--sailors on the eve of a voyage--invalids, expecting a physician, who, they know, will prescribe an unwelcome diet--yea, even as criminals before execution,--amplify their meals, and, from their dreary expectations, educe a keener relish,--so we, awfully anticipating the _cuisine_ of Connamara, made a mighty dinner at Galway. It was brought to us, moreover, by a dear old waiter, who evidently had a proud delight in feeding us, as though he were some affectionate sparrow, and we his callow young, taking off the covers with a triumphant air, like a conjuror sure of his trick, and pouring out our Drogheda ale, with quite as much respect and care as Ganymede could have shown for the Gods.