We had no more adventures, but Francesca was so unhinged by her unfortunate exit from Ballycastle that, after a few miles, she announced her intention of putting her machine and herself on the car; whereupon Benella proclaimed herself a competent cyclist, and climbed down blithely to mount the discarded wheel. Her ideas of propriety were by this time so developed that she rode ten or twelve feet behind me, where she looked quaint enough, in her black dress and little black bonnet with its white lawn strings.
"Sure it's a quare footman ye have, me lady," said a genial and friendly person who was sitting by the roadside smoking his old dudeen. An Irishman, somehow, is always going to his work 'jist,' or coming from it, or thinking how it shall presently be done, or meditating on the next step in the process, or resting a bit before taking it up again, or reflecting whether the weather is on the whole favourable to its proper performance; but however poor and needy he may be, it is somewhat difficult to catch him at the precise working moment. Mr. Alfred Austin says of the Irish peasants that idleness and poverty seem natural to them. "Life to the Scotsman or Englishman is a business to conduct, to extend, to render profitable. To the Irishman it is a dream, a little bit of passing consciousness on a rather hard pillow; the hard part of it being the occasional necessity for work, which spoils the tenderness and continuity of the dream."
Presently we passed the Castle, rode along a neat quay with a row of houses advertising lodgings to let; and here is Lever Cottage, where Harry Lorrequer was written; for Lever was dispensary doctor in Port Stewart when his first book was appearing in the Dublin University Magazine.
We did not fancy Coleraine; it looked like anything but Cuil- rathain, a ferny corner. Kitty's sweet buttermilk may have watered, but it had not fertilised the plain, though the town itself seemed painfully prosperous. Neither the Clothworkers' Inn nor the Corporation Arms looked a pleasant stopping-place, and the humble inn we finally selected for a brief rest proved to be about as gay as a family vault, with a landlady who had all the characteristics of a poker except its occasional warmth, as the Liberator said of another stiff and formal person. Whether she was Scot or Saxon I know not; she was certainly not Celt, and certainly no Barney McCrea of her day would have kissed her if she had spilled ever so many pitchers of sweet buttermilk over the plain; so we took the railway, and departed with delight for Limavady, where Thackeray, fresh from his visit to Charles Lever, laid his poetical tribute at the stockingless feet of Miss Margaret of that town.
O'Cahan, whose chief seat was at Limavady, was the principal urraght of O'Neill, and when one of the great clan was 'proclaimed' at Tullaghogue it was the magnificent privilege of the O'Cahan to toss a shoe over his head. We slept at O'Cahan's Hotel, and--well, one must sleep; and wherever we attend to that necessary function without due preparation, we generally make a mistake in the selection of the particular spot. Protestantism does not necessarily mean cleanliness, although it may have natural tendencies in that direction; and we find, to our surprise ( a surprise rooted, probably, in bigotry), that Catholicism can be as clean as a penny whistle, now and again. There were no special privileges at O'Cahan's for maids, and Benella, therefore, had a delightful evening in the coffee-room with a storm-bound commercial traveller. As for Francesca and me, there was plenty to occupy us in our regular letters to Ronald and Himself; and Salemina wrote several sheets of thin paper to somebody,--no one in America, either, for we saw her put on a penny stamp.
Our pleasant duties over, we looked into the cheerful glow of the turf sods while I read aloud Thackeray's Peg of Limavady. He spells the town with two d's, by the way, to insure its being rhymed properly with Paddy and daddy.
'Riding from Coleraine (Famed for lovely Kitty), Came a Cockney bound Unto Derry city;
Weary was his soul, Shivering and sad he Bumped along the road Leads to Limavaddy.
. . . .
Limavaddy inn's But a humble baithouse, Where you may procure Whisky and potatoes;
Landlord at the door Gives a smiling welcome To the shivering wights Who to his hotel come.
Landlady within Sits and knits a stocking, With a wary foot Baby's cradle rocking.
. . . .
Presently a maid Enters with the liquor (Half a pint of ale Frothing in a beaker).
Gads! I didn't know What my beating heart meant:
Hebe's self I thought Entered the apartment.
As she came she smiled, And the smile bewitching, On my word and honour, Lighted all the kitchen!
. . . .
This I do declare, Happy is the laddy Who the heart can share Of Peg of Limavaddy.
Married if she were, Blest would be the daddy Of the children fair Of Peg of Limavaddy.
Beauty is not rare In the land of Paddy, Fair beyond compare Is Peg of Limavaddy.'