ABSTRACT
"Think of to-morrow!" – that is what few Irish peasants ever do, with a view of providing for it: at least few with whom I have had opportunities of being acquainted. They will think of anything – of everything, but that. There is Larry Moore, for example: – who, that has ever visited my own pastoral village of Bannow, is unacquainted with Larry, the Bannow boatman – the invaluable Larry – who, tipsy or sober, asleep or awake, rows his boat with undeviating power and precision? – He, alas! is a strong proof of the truth of my observation. Look at him on a fine sunny day in June. The cliffs that skirt the shore, where his boat is moored, are crowned with wild furze; while here and there, a tuft of white or yellow broom, sprouting a little above the bluish green of its prickly neighbour, waves its blossoms, and flings its fragrance to the passing breeze. Down to the very edge of the rippling waves is almost one unbroken bed of purple thyme, glowing and beautiful; – and there Larry's goat, with her two sportive kids sly, cunning rogues! – find rich pasture – now nibbling the broom-blossoms, now sporting amid the furze, and making the scenery re-echo with their musical bleating. The little island opposite, Larry considers his own particular property; not that a single sod of its bright greenery belongs to him – but, to use his own words, "Sure it's all as one my own – don't I see it – don't I walk upon it – and the very water that it's set in is my own; for sorra a one can put foot on it widout me and 'the coble,' 358 that have been hand and glove as good as forty years." But look, I pray you, upon Larry: – there he lies stretched in the sunlight, at full length, on the firm sand, like a man-porpoise – sometimes on his back – then slowly turning on his side – but his most usual attitude is a sort of reclining position against that flat grey stone, just at high-water mark; he selects it as his constant resting place, because (again to use his own words) "the tide, bad cess to it! was apt to come fast in upon a body, and there was a dale of throuble in moving; but even if one chanced to fall asleep, sorra a morsel of harm the salt water could do ye on the grey stone, where a living merwoman sat every new-year's night combing her black hair, and making beautiful music to the wild waves, who, consequently, trated her sate wid grate respict – why not?" There then, is Larry – his chest leaning on the mermaid's stone, as we call it – his long, bare legs stretched out behind, kicking, occasionally, as a gad-fly 359 or merry-hopper, skips about what it naturally considers lawful prey: – his lower garments have evidently once been trowsers – blue trowsers; but as Larry, when in motion, is amphibious, they have experienced the decaying effects of salt water, and now only descend to the knee, where they terminate in unequal fringes. Indeed, his frieze jacket is no great things, being much rubbed at the elbows – and no wonder; for Larry, when awake, is ever employed, either in pelting the sea gulls (who, to confess the truth, treat him with very little respect), rowing his boat, or watching the circles formed on the surface of the calm waters by the large or small pebbles he throws into it; and as Larry, of course, rests his elbow on the rocks, while performing these exploits, the sleeves must wear, for frieze is not "impenetrable stuff" 360 His hat is a natural curiosity, composed of sun-burned straw, banded by a misshapen sea-ribbon, and garnished by "delisk," 361 red and green, his "cutty pipe" stuck through a slit in the brim, which bends it directly over the left eye, and keeps it "quite handy widout any trouble." His bushy, reddish hair persists in obstinately pushing its way out of every hole in his extraordinary hat, or clusters strangely over his Herculean 362 shoulders, and a low-furrowed brow, very unpromising to the eye of the phrenologist: – in truth, Larry has somewhat of a dogged expression of countenance, which is relieved, at times, by the humorous twinkle of his little grey eyes, pretty much in the manner that a star or two illume the dreary blank of a cloudy November night. The most conspicuous part of his attire, however, is an undressed wide leather belt, that passes over one shoulder and then under another strap of the same material that encircles his waist; from this depends a rough wooden case, containing his whisky-bottle; a long, narrow knife; pieces of rope, of varied length and thickness; and a pouch which contains the money he earns at his "vocation."
