70 
BIZZ AND HER FOES. 
[Nature aud Art, March 1, 1807. 
time was up, and she died, as she had lived, in the 
cause of duty. Still she was, though only a dog, 
off the same sod as myself, — my mother's (the 
heavens be her bed !) present to me, when she was 
a fractious puppy, — but I didn’t mind that, — she 
was made of the clay of the ould country ! me own 
faithful friend ! Often on the rowling sea, I 
thought of this day, when I should let you see the 
remains of her, — bring her to you, ma’am dear, to 
have a last look at her, just out of gratitude.” 
She stooped to pat the dog’s head, and muttered 
the “ cushla macliree” over it so tenderly: it was 
strange to hear such a radiantly-dressed woman 
speaking with such an accent : it was all natural 
and right for “ Mary ” to have the brogue, but I 
cannot describe my perplexity when I looked at 
“ Mrs. Smith,” while her words rolled out in the 
richest Munster ! 
“The rats,” she said, “ the villains, they found 
her out on the passage ; there’s nothing escapes them 
murderin’ ruffians of rats; one would think they 
had a spite against her ; I don’t know how they 
got into the cabin, but they did, and many a long 
night have I sat on the box, with a soda-water- 
bottle in my stocking ready for them, (oh memory 
of the ‘fair green of Ballynatrent ! ’) 1 shouldn’t 
have saved a hair of her, if I had not watched 
over her day and night. 
“ I’ve been greatly blessed, ma’am ; I’m married 
to as good a man, and as kind, as ever stepped 
in two shoes, an independent gentleman he is now, 
and I’ve been able to send new vestments to the 
priest of Ballynatrent, and had a tombstone put 
above my dear mother, that as long as a shamrock 
springs from the soil will tell what she was, and 
where she is, for I never rested until she was prayed 
out * and 1 heard the end of him you knew about 
three years ago, come Candlemas. So I could come 
back without fear or trembling, and my master 
longed for the old country.” 
There was a pause ; it was difficult to realize the 
transformation. Mrs. Smith busied herself with 
crumbling camphor on the remnant of the dog’s 
tail which stuck out as usual “ quite natural,” — 
the voice, the sweet, loving eyes ! yes it was a 
reality, but not without romance. I do believe she 
had put on all the finery she possessed in the very 
exuberance of her desire to do me and herself 
honour. Could that enlarged woman, glittering in 
chains from which depended such “ knobby 
nuggets” as it would have been dangerous to 
show in a crowded thoroughfare, in bracelets of 
astounding size, ear-rings of wreathed ferns, and in 
that unmistakable Australian brooch, composed of 
a palm-tree, and a tuft of such foliage at its base, 
as would have driven a botanist insane — -could 
that woman, surrounded by such an atmosphere of 
wealth, and looking so solidly happy, and fresh, 
and rich, have been the cook, who denied her 
country ! It was more like a trick in a pantomime, 
than the revival of old times. Yes, her position 
was evidently changed, and why should I quarrel 
with her accent 1 — her warm, earnest heart was 
clinging to the associations of her early poverty and 
struggles, cherishing the very skin of that battered 
old dog, and believing (God bless her for her 
belief in human sympathy !) that I should enjoy 
seeing the glitter of her prosperity, and the moth- 
eaten skin of what (and 1 mean no disrespect to 
Mr. Smith) she certainly loved best in the world. 
I was too bewildered for some minutes to ask 
questions. At last I said, “We should be happy to 
see Mr. Smith, if at any time he visited the 
neighbourhood,” and then I admired Bizz, and 
stroked her coat, and said how well the character of 
the dog was preserved. 
“ Aye, sure, — but she’d have grown out of your 
knowledge without the white tooth. I had that 
put in, — and indeed Mr. Smith has great patience 
entirely on account” — but at that moment Mrs. 
Smith caught sight of a juvenile cockroach, who 
was seated on the top of Bizz’s very shiny nose. 
“ There’s one of them ! ” she exclaimed, while 
making a plunge at the doomed insect, “to think of 
her foes keeping it up that way, when I may say 
she has no body, and no breath. You used to say, 
ma’am,” she added reproachfully, “ that Bizz made 
foes by her bad temper : — sure, there’s no temper 
in her now, and they won’t let her alone ! ” 
If Avas a treat to look at Mrs Smith’s face ; there 
might be a little assumption of dignity, yes, dignity 
in her manner, carried out by her handsome 
presence, but the happiness, the simple, womanly 
happiness of seeing a friend, and being able to open 
her full, national heart to one who she knew would 
understand her, swept away all her pomposity. 
Looking earnestly into my face, and laying her solid 
fingers, cased in mauve kid, on my arm, she said, — 
“ Ah, do now, ma’am, please to call me Mary, it 
would sound so sweet ! there’s no one calls me that 
noAv. Mr. Smith is so anxious to keep up my 
dignity, he always calls me Mrs. S.” 
Then she told me about her servants, and Avhat 
her jewels cost, and dwelt loAungly and proudly on 
her husband’s goodness and station ; yet I saAv she 
had something to say about him that hung fire, 
something that she could not quite frame words to 
disclose, — at last out it came, — “ he hated, the 
Irish ! ” Yes, it Avas quite true, “ he hated them, he 
always said he’d neA^er marry an Irishwoman; he 
told her so often.” 
“ But,” I said, “ lie did marry an Irish- 
woman.” 
A queer expression came over her face. “ He 
does not know it,” said Mrs. Smith. 
“ Hot know it 1 ” I repeated. 
“ Sorra a bit,” Avas the reply. 
I thought it perfectly unnecessary, yet I said, 
“ Oh Mary, you should hav^e told him.” 
It was iioav her turn to repeat, and she did so. 
“ Told him ! I shouted it at him, till I was a’most 
black in the face, — and plenty besides me did the 
same: good-natured mothers, avIio wanted him for 
their own girls.” 
“ And he did not believe it ! ” 
“ He never heard it : he’s stone-deaf, hasn’t 
* Out of Purgatory. 
