The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1902-12-07
GREAT UNCLE MCCARTHY
DYE. O'C. Somerville.
copyright by E. o'C. somerville)

the Liar, Of brandy stolen from wreck
They were BLACK Protestants" all OF
them. in virtue of their descent from a
godly soldier of Cromwell. and all were
prepared at any moment of the day or
night to sell horse.
you'll be apt to find this place bit
lonesome after the hotel" remarked Mr..
FURRY, alphabetically, as he placed ms
foot in its steaming boot on the hob,
s'but it's fine, sound house, anyway,
and lots of rooms in it, though, indeed,
to tell you the truth. l never was through
the whole of them since the time my
great uncle, Denis Mccarthy, died here.
The dear knows | had enough OF it that
time" He paused and lit cigarette
''Those top floors, now" he resumed,
81 wouldn't make too free with them.
There's some of them would Jump under
you like a spring bed Many's the night
| was in and out of those attics, follow
ing my poor uncle when he had a bad
turn on him-the horrors, you know
there were nights he never stopped
walking through the house. Good Lord
will l ever forget the morning he said
he saw the devil coming up the avenue!
Look at the two horns on him, says he,
and he out with his gun and shot him,
and, begad, it was his own Donkey"
The autumn evening gray with rain,
was darkenng in the tall windows, and
the wind was beginning to make bully
ing rushes among the shrubs in the area;
shower of SCOT ratified down the Chin
ney and fell on the hearthrug
More rain coming" said Mr.. Knox.
rising composedly. You'll have to put
|
soon; it's the only way in the world to
clean them. Well. I'm for the road.
You'll come out on the gray next week,
I hope; the hounds'll be meeting here"
He threw his cigarette into the fire and
extended a hand to me. "Goodby, Major,
| you'll see plenty of me and my hounds
| before you're done. There's a power of
| foxes in the plantations here"
This was scarcely reassuring for a
man who hoped to shoot woodcock, and
| | limited as much.
"Oh, is it the cock?" said Mr.. FURRY.
"B'leeve me. the best shoots ever l had
here the hounds We're in it the day be-
| fore"
: When Mr.. Knox had gone, l began to
picture myself going across country roar
| ing, while Philippa put the goose down
the chimney but when 1 sat down to
write to her 1 did not feel equal to
being humorous about it. l dilated pond
erously on my cold, my hard work. and
my loneliness, and eventually went to
bed at 10 o'clock full of cold shivers and
hot whisky andwater.
After a couple of hours of feverish
doing, l began to understand what had
driven Great-Uncle Mccarthy to peram-
bulate the house by night. / should have
said my couch was stuffed with old boots
| have seldom spent a more wretched
night. The rain drummed with soft fin
gers on my window panes; the house
| was full of noises. l seemed to see Great
Uncle Mccarthy ranging the passages
with FURRY at his heels; several times
thought l heard him. Whisperings
| seemed borne on the wind through my
keyhole, boards creaked in the room
overhead, and once l could have sworn
that a hand passed, cropping, over the
panels of my door.
i The morning broke stormily, and
woke to find Mrs. Cadogan's understudy
a grimy nephew of about eighteen, stand
ing by my bedside, with a black bottle
in his hand.
There's no bath in the house. sir >
was his reply to my command; "but me
ant said, would we like a taggeen?"
This alternative proved to be a glass
Of raw whiskey. | declined it.
| look back to that first week of house
! keeping at Shreelane as to a comedy ex-
cessively badly staged and striped with
lurid melodrama. Daily, shrouded in
macintosh, l set forth for the Petty
Sessions Courts Of my wide district;
daily, in the inevitable atmosphere OF
wet frieze and perjury l listened to in
dictments of old women who plucked
geese alive. of publicans whose hospi-
tally to their friends broke forth I'M
controllab1y on Sunday afternoons, Of
parties" who, in the language of the
police sergeant, were subtly defined as
not to say DRINKS, but in good fighting
thrim.'
1 got used to it all in time-I suppose
one can get used to anything even
became callous to the surprises of Mrs
Cadogans cooking. AS the weather
hardened and the woodcock came in
and one by one l discovered and nailed
up the rat holes, / began to find life
endurable.
The one feature of my establishment
to which l could not become Injured was
| the pervading sub-presence of some thing
| or things which for my own convenience
| l summarized as Great-Uncle Mccarthy
| There were nights on which l was GER
tain that l heard the inebriate shuttle
! of his foot overhead, the touch of his
fumbling hand against the walls. There
were dark times before the dawn when
sounds went to and fro, the moving OF
weights, the creaking of doors, a far
away rapping in which was a workman
| like suggestion of the undertaken, a
rumble of wheels on the avenue
| In the process of time 1 brought Great