In Chimney Corners - McManus Seumas (хорошие книги бесплатные полностью .txt) 📗

“I would be content to give you a good penny for him,” sez the Mayor; “just as a cur’osity to show my friends, you know.”

“You’ll have to get some other cur’osity for your friends this time, then,” sez Manis. “This would be a rare cur’osity, entirely.”

“I wouldn’t refuse you fifty pounds down in cold cash for him,” sez the Mayor.

“Faix, I suppose you would not,” sez Manis, tartly.

“I wouldn’t refuse you a hundred pounds down for him, now that I think of it,” sez the Mayor.

“Think again,” sez Manis.

“Oh, but I considher that a big penny,” sez the Mayor.

“And wouldn’t you considher five hundred, bigger?” sez Manis.

“Oh, I couldn’t think of that, my good man,” sez the Mayor.

“Very well and good, then,” replied Manis. “When every one sticks to his own, no man’s wronged. Good morning and good luck,” sez he, pretending to go and to drive off.

“Hold on ye,” sez the Mayor, running forward and catching the reins. Is it very expensive, his keep? Have you to feed him on anything special to get them coins out of him?“

“Yes, sartintly,” sez Manis, “his keep is a very expensive item entirely, and if you’re not purpared to give him his fill of good oat, corn, and bran, there’s no use in you throwing away your hard-earned money purchasing him from me. I like to be honest with you, so good morning again.”

“Hold on you! Hold on, you!” sez the Mayor, pulling the reins with all his might, for Manis was making wonderful big quivers with the reins and the whip as if he wanted to get away whither or no, and that he was no way consarned to make sale.

“Hold on, you!” sez the Mayor. “One of you run in there,” sez he to the waiters, “and fetch me out five-hundred pounds you’ll get rolled up in the foot of an old stocking in the bottom corner of my trunk, and the others of you take this horse out of the cart and put him into the stable,” sez he.

So the waiter soon come running back with the foot of an old stocking, and the Lord Mayor counted five hundred goold sovereigns out of it down into Manis’s hand, and Manis and him parted, Manis going whistling home with a light heart.

The Mayor had the pony locked up in a stable by itself, up to the eyes in corn and bran, and he double-locked it, putting the key into his own pocket, and then went round the town telling all his gentlemen friends of his good fortune, and inviting them all to come at twelve o’clock the next day till they would have the pleasure of seeing him flogging a hundhred pound or so out of the horse. Sure enough, at twelve o’clock the next day, all his gentlemen friends were gathered in the hotel yard, and the Lord Mayor come out and opened the stable door, and ordered one of his men in to lead out the horse. He was provided with a nice little tough cane himself, that he had bought at eighteenpence in a little shop next doore, specially for the occasion, and he ordered his man to lead the horse into the middle of the yard, and then he went round clearing a circle about the horse, putting his gentlemen friends back with the cane, as he said the little coins would likely be rolling among them, and would maybe get lost.

“Now, John,” says he to the man who was holding the horse, “keep a good tight grip on the reins, and don’t let him burst away. I’ll not keep you long, for I’ll only take a few hundhred pounds or so out of him the day, just to let these gentlemen friends of mine see the thing. Hold hard, now,” sez he, and he drew the cane a sharp slap on the poor baste’s ribs. Up flung the horse, and out jumped a coin, and rolled into the crowd.

The Lord Mayor crossed his arms, and axed some of the crowd to lift it and tell him what was it.

They lifted and examined it, as if it was one of the seven wonders of the world, and they bit it, and scratched it, and jingled it, an sez they,—

“It’s a good, bright shilling, with the king’s head on it.”

“Humph!” sez the Lord Mayor, a wee bit taken back, “is that all? I expected a bit of goold, but the goold’s to come yet. Hold hard again, John!” sez he, and he come down another sharp rap on the horse’s ribs. Up flung the horse, and out jumps another coin. “Kindly tell me,” sez he, crossing his arms, and looking on indifferently—“kindly tell me,” sez he, “how much is that?”

The crowd took it up again, and scratched it, and rubbed it, and jingled it, an bit it, and sez they,—

“It’s a half-crown, by the toss o’ war!”

“Well, middling, middling,” says he, “we’re getting towards the goold now. Hold hard again, John! Look out, gentlemen, for I’m guessing this will be a half-sovereign, or a sovereign, and it might get lost.” And with that he comes down another rap on the baste’s ribs, but lo and behold you, though the horse flung ever so high, the sorra take the coin or coin come out.

The Lord Mayor looked round him, and then looked up in the air to see if the coin went up that way, and forgot to come down; but seeing no sign of it there, he turned to John, and sez he,—

“What way did that coin go, John?”

“Faith,” sez John, sez he, “you put me a puzzle. Ax me another.”

“There’s some mistake,” says the Lord Mayor, squaring himself out, and folding up his sleeves. “I’m afeard I didn’t strike hard enough that time; but it will not be my fault this time or I will.” So down he comes such a polthogue on the poor brute’s bones as made its inside sound like a drum, and up higher than ever the baste flung its heels, and the Lord Mayor and John, and all the crowd stood back to watch for the coin, but good luck to their wit! if they were watching from that time till this the dickens receive the coin or coin would they see.

“Right enough,” sez the Lord Mayor, sez he, “it’s as plain as a pike staff that there must be some mistake here. Don’t you think isn’t there some mistake, John?”

“Faix,” sez John, “I would be very strongly of the opinion that there is.”

“John,” sez the Lord Mayor, sez he, “I think we’re not holding his head the right way. It strikes me that the owner of him held his head north when he was flogging the money out of him. What do you think if we hold his head north?”

“Anything at all you plaise,” sez John, “I’m paid to obey orders.”

“All right then, John, just move his head round that way a little. That’s it. That will do,” sez the Lord Mayor. “Now hold hard, John, and keep a sharp eye out for the coin,” sez he, spitting on the stick and winding it round his head, and fetching it down, oh, melia murdher! that you’d think it wouldn’t leave a bone in the poor baste’s body it wouldn’t knock into stirabout. And then up flung the horse, and the Mayor jumped back, and they all jumped back, and then the Mayor held out his hand and said, “Whisht! Whisht!” an set up his ears to hear where the coin would fall; but, movrone, ne’er a coin or coin was to be heard. The first thing the Mayor heard was a bit of a titter of a laugh, and then another and another, till the titter went round all his gintlemen friends. With that he got black in the face, to find he had made such a fool of himself, and to the flogging of the horse he falls again, detarmined to have it out of him if there was a coin at all in him. And he flogged him high up and low down, and all around, whacking and striking, and puffing, and cursing, and the baste flinging and leaping, and neighing, and whinnying, till at length ye a’most wouldn’t see the poor animal for blood and foam. And his gintlemen friends round about had to interfare at last, and drag him away from the horse by brute force, and threaten to give him in charge to the soldiers if he didn’t stop murdering the creature, and the horse was dragged off and the Lord Mayor was dragged in, and the whole town laughed for nine days after till they laughed the Lord Mayor clean out of his office. And as for Manis, the rascal, he give up the besom-making trade, as well he might, and he lived an ondependent private jintleman, himself and his mother, for the rest of their days, on the intherest of his money.