The Rutland daily globe. [volume] (Rutland, Vt.) 1873-1877, 1873-07-26
Che 8utland Tally Globe.
SATURDAY, JULY 20, 1873.
A SUPERVISORS STORY.

1t was at -, in Yorkshire, that first
met with my friend the supervisor. | had
the pleasure of an evenings conversation
with him, an evening and morning, as
may say, for we didn't go to bed at all that
night, and the tots of toddy reached total
that caused Reason to totter ON her throne.
We were conversing, among other topics,
upon Feniansm and | remarked to my
friend the supervisor, that felt little ten
der in touching upon the theme, for that
didn't exactly know, although was certain
he was Scotchman, whether he mightn't
be an Irishman as we'll You'll bear in
mind that we'd reached the stage of our
'toddy tournament which might be termed
the melee Cor the mellow, in the vernacri.
lar anyhow, we were getting mixed in our
ideas.
And am not surprised at that same, =
said Sandy,-for lived many years in Ire
land, when was just gauger, and grew
so intimate with the Irish, that my tongue
got twist that it's never recovered from
to this day. And to tell you the truth, il
was the pleasantest country to live in of all
the islands of Great Britain. Why, a man
who was crown officer, and had ready
money once quarter, was equal to lord
and there was something in the air of the
country that was wholesome to that degree,
that ye might be drinking whisky all the
day, and be never penny the worse for il
at night was in a wildish part of the
country, up among the boys of Tipperary.
was just a raw laddie then, upon my ap-
probation as it were, and was gay, active.
We may be sure, routing about the country
hunting for stills and shebeens, searching
auld wives barrels trying to speer out
something that might be a feather in my
cap, and bring me speedy promotion. But
never drop of potheen or the Whit of a
still could come across, though they were
swarming about me the whites.
But one day, as | sat on the top of bit
hil!ock, looking over the wild country, and
thinking of the braes O. Kirkokyrie, spied
man coming along wee bit track over
the moor, and he was fou as the laird o
Craigdarroch.
He was stranger to the parts, too, and
didn't know the face of me, and he came
rolling and sliddering along to where was
sitting
God save you, friend said |.
The s-saints purtect you' said my friend.
It's the decent drop o liquor you get up
there beyant.'
BE me SOUL it is
and its a decent gossoon that sells it. |
went on.
Indeed, he is
viii there be drop left in the jug up
beyant.'
There's lashings of it.
Maybe We like drop more of that same?
Indeed, would
Then I'll be for treating you, friend; ;
and linked my arm with his, and away we
went over hill and dale, while we come to
lone hut in bit nag or dingle, where
there was reek of peat smoke and bit of
bummling noise that was the poor fell
sort of countersign that couldn't see the
trick of, and he and both walked in and
sot down on heap of turfs by the door,
and called for the potheen, and | paid for
it, and never one of them was the wiser.
But they hadn't got the still there. l found
that out 1t was up among the boys some
where, and l was hoping they'd let drop
something thatd give me line to Where il
was, when all of sudden there dropped in
a little man, a grocer from the town, and
the shine of the door as it opened upon me
lit up my face, and in the surprise of the
moment he sung out
Lads, we've got the gauger among ye.'
There was great kish of turf just behind
me, and before | could stir hand, some.
body had clapped it over me like an eXtin
guisher, and what with the dust of the
turf, and wheen few trifles that was
among it, and the reek and the stink,
didn't come to my senses for minute Oh
two and when popped my head out OF
the basket, never n soul was there but thu
old grandmother snoring away in her ole
chair by the fire.
But though they saved their still, they
couldn't get over the selling OF the drink
| ,,lair anoiv,ct that,,
against Terence Macarty, that is, who livet
in the cabin. He was Just the cat's-paw o.
| the men that worked the still but he go
all the punishment, mOrc's the pity. Well
l summoned Terence, and got him finet
fl00; and rs there was nothing in til,
world in his hut but the old turf kish as II
kicked the bottom out of, and his grand
mothers chair that had been matched will
bit of out straw, took out a body-war
rant, as we call it. and made up my mine
I'd have to take my friend to Dublin castle
Now Irelands a different country alto
gether from this, and after we'd had oul
sessions, and the magistrates had signed til,
warrant against poor Terence, we went int
the public house close blythe whole lot o
us, magistrates and all-and began to drinl
whisky like fish.
Sandy, me boy said Mike Hackett-y,
remember Mixer Sandy, isn't it trenholm.
ye are with apprehension? He was yer.
particular in his conversation, was Mike
isn't it shaking We are, from the crown o
your occupit to the very phalanxes of you
pedals at the job you've got in hand to in
carcerate Terence Mccarthy
They say twas he shot the bailiff, shout
ed one.
'Divil one than he murthered the sher
| iffc offionr priaI apnthpr
oh, he'll take detachment of Dragon
from Killoo,' called third
Come, said at last, getting rather eros
the way they was chatting me, come, III
bet gallon of potheen with any sportsman
in the room, that I'll take the boy to Dub
lin castle all by myself
Done with you' cried dozen voices.
And was booked for about Il hogshea'
of whiskey before / knew where ] was
But wouldn't go back; only when the ex
element of the drink was out of me, fel
as if I'd deal rather have it left undone
for they were n wild lot, were the Macar
thys, and it was wild country they live
in.
The weather came on wet, remember
and it was nearly week before could &c
across from ShillalOo to Terence Mccarthy
cabin. which was in the barony of Tulla
bardine; though where the barony went to
and who was the baron Of it, was matte
1 never could get to know the bottom of.
1t was just the dusk of the evening GO
to the top of the hill that looked over Tel
ence's cabin; and dismal hole it seemed
that same little bag or dingle. There wa
bit pool of black bog-water Mt one end c
it, and at the other was Tins cabin-just
heap of turf, with hole for the smoke I
come out.
Sandy, my boy said to myself, you
never come out of that hole alive And
looked round to see if there wasn't som
living creature near me; if it had bee
only q sheep or a pig, 1t would have been
comfort, just for companionship. Ther
was red streak of light in the sky, an
just across it, l remember, there was lin
OF wild geese flying, their long mech
stretched out and their wings beating
slow time in the air, and could just hea
the whang of it; and the sea-birds scream
ad and W histIAd over my head. though