The Coiners' Den [pp. 488-504]

496 TirE COINER S' DEK [Jan.,
to the weakness of infancy. Worn to the bone, gaunt, skinny,
and haggard, with beetling brows, feverish aspect, and lurid eyes,
he glared at me like a tiger. His voice was gruff, hoarse, and
horrible; there was something, I thought, supernatural in its
ton~e,s as he asked me, "Where are you from?"
The speaker seemed to me at that moment a man whom "the
vile blows and buffets of the world" had maddened to despera
tioii, and who, forced by undeserved misfortune, had made war
on society in the view of making an end of himself, if be could
not inflict vengeance on mankind. But disease, in chaining him
to his pallet, had subdued his rebellious spirit, tamed his innate
ferocity, and inclined his obdurate heart to repentance.
"My good man-" I began,. "I am not a good man," he
gruffly replied, with an indescribable growl. "What do you call
me a good man for? Is it mocking me you are? But tell me,
are you from the priest?" Here the old woman muttered something which I did not understand, which seemed to appease him.
"I come here," I continued, "by pure accident, which this
woman can e&?plain to you. But if you have anything to impart
which it would ease your mind to communicate, you may confide in me. I have been told you have some information to
give."
"Ay, ay," he exclaimed, "tell me, can you spake Latin? Let
me hear you spake Latin." I immediately repeated the first
lines of the ~neid: "Arma virumque cano Troj~ qui primus
ab oris," etc. " Well, I believe that's a prayer for my sowl?
It's very fine, anyhow. Tell me, will you hear a confession?"
"It's raving he is, sir," said the old woman, and she again muttered something in his ear. " He's the greatest loony ever you
seen. Don't mind him, yer honor." She seemed to be apprehensive that the Sacrament of Confession might be profaned by
our proceedings. Meantime he was glaring at me like a man
who had lost his senses and was half inclined to fight with me,
meditating an attack. "Come here," he e~claimed in a hoarse
voice, at the same time fumbling under his pillow, from which he
brought forth a bag.
"Come here," he repeated. "Take this bag; there's a paper in
it. It's not the thing you want, but it'll be the means of getting
it. Tell me, do you know Meath Street Chapel?" "To be sure
I do; what about it?" said I. "Go to Meath Street Chapel,
do you mind, and ax the clark where Pat Maher does be. When
you see Pat Ma~er show him this paper. Do you mind? And
if he axes you for th' other token, say: