No More Learning

There is but one man that swears like him, and this man lives far away
upon the mountain. 'Father in heaven, what have I done to deserve
this? ' he says when he has lost his pipe; and no man but he who lives
on the mountain can rival his language on a fair day over a bargain. He
is passionate and abrupt in his movements, and when angry tosses his
white beard about with his left hand.

One day I was dining with him when the servant-maid announced a certain
Mr. O'Donnell. A sudden silence fell upon the old man and upon his two
daughters. At last the eldest daughter said somewhat severely to her
father, 'Go and ask him to come in and dine. ' The old man went out,
and then came in looking greatly relieved, and said, 'He says he will
not dine with us. ' 'Go out,' said the daughter, 'and ask him into the
back parlour, and give him some whiskey. ' Her father, who had just
finished his dinner, obeyed sullenly, and I heard the door of the back
parlour--a little room where the daughters sat and sewed during the
evening--shut to behind the men. The daughter then turned to me and
said, 'Mr. O'Donnell is the tax-gatherer, and last year he raised our
taxes, and my father was very angry, and when he came, brought him
into the dairy, and sent the dairy-woman away on a message, and then
swore at him a great deal. "I will teach you, sir," O'Donnell replied,
"that the law can protect its officers"; but my father reminded him
that he had no witness. At last my father got tired, and sorry too,
and said he would show him a short way home.
When they were half-way
to the main road they came on a man of my father's who was ploughing,
and this somehow brought back remembrance of the wrong. He sent the man
away on a message, and began to swear at the tax-gatherer again. When
I heard of it I was disgusted that he should have made such a fuss
over a miserable creature like O'Donnell; and when I heard a few weeks
ago that O'Donnell's only son had died and left him heart-broken, I
resolved to make my father be kind to him next time he came. '

She then went out to see a neighbour, and I sauntered towards the back
parlour. When I came to the door I heard angry voices inside. The two
men were evidently getting on to the tax again, for I could hear them
bandying figures to and fro. I opened the door; at sight of my face
the farmer was reminded of his peaceful intentions, and asked me if I
knew where the whiskey was. I had seen him put it into the cupboard,
and was able therefore to find it and get it out, looking at the thin,
grief-struck face of the tax-gatherer. He was rather older than my
friend, and very much more feeble and worn, and of a very different
type. He was not like him, a robust, successful man, but rather one of
those whose feet find no resting-place upon the earth. I recognized one
of the children of reverie, and said, 'You are doubtless of the stock
of the old O'Donnells. I know well the hole in the river where their
treasure lies buried under the guard of a serpent with many heads. '
'Yes, sur,' he replied, 'I am the last of a line princes. '

We then fell to talking of many commonplace things, and my friend did
not once toss up his beard, but was very friendly. At last the gaunt
old tax-gatherer got up to go, and my friend said, 'I hope we will
have a glass together next year. ' 'No, no,' was the answer, 'I shall
be dead next year,' 'I too have lost sons,' said the other, in quite a
gentle voice.