Michael McGrath, Postmaster | Page 7

folly of allowing Paddy to
deceive him with bad whisky. Surely any man could tell the bad from
the good.
"It is deplorable stuff altogether, and it will not be good for Paddy
when I see him."
"Och!" burst out Ould Michael at last, "it is not the whisky at all, at
all."
"Ay, that is a great part of it, whatever."
"Och! me hea-art is broke, me hea-art is broke," groaned Ould Michael.
"Hoots, man! is it for the p'stoffice? That was not much worth to any
man."
But Ould Michael only shook his head. It was hopeless to try to make
such a man appreciate his feelings. McFarquhar rambled on, making
light of the whole affair. The loss could only be very trifling. A man
could make much more out of anything else. Poor Ould Michael bore it
as long as he could and then, rising to his feet, cried out:
"Howly mither av Moses! an' have ye no hea-art inside av ye at all, at
all? 'Tis not the money; the money is dirt!"
Here McFarquhar strongly dissented. Ould Michael heeded him not,
but poured out his bitterness and grief. "For twinty years and more did I
folly the flag in all lands and in all climates, wid wounds all over me
body, an' medals an' good conduct sthripes an'--an' all that; an' now,
wid niver a word av complaint or explanashun, to be turned aff like a

dog an' worse."
Then the matter-of-fact McFarquhar, unable to understand these
sentimental considerations, but secretly delighted that he had got Ould
Michael to unbosom himself, began to draw him.
"Not twenty years, Michael."
"Twenty-foive years it is, an' more, I'm tellin' ye," replied Ould Michael,
"an' niver wance did the inimy see the back av me coat or the dust av
me heels; an' to think----"
"How long was it, then, you were with Sir Colin?" continued
McFarquhar, cunningly.
"Wid Sir Colin? Shure an' didn't I stay wid him all the way from
Calcutta to Lucknow an' back? An' didn't I give thim faithful sarvice
here for twelve years--the first man that iver handled the mail in the
valley? An' here I am, like--like--any common man."
These were the sore spots in his heart. He was shamed before the
people of the valleys in whose presence he had stood forth as the
representative of a grateful sovereign. His Queen and his country--his
glory and pride for all these years--had forgotten him and his years of
service and had cast him aside as worthless; and now he was degraded
to the ranks of a mere private citizen! No wonder he had hauled down
his flag and then, having no interest in life, nothing was left him but
Paddy Dougan and the relief of his bad whisky.--Against Jacob Wragge,
too, who had supplanted him, his rage burned. He would have his
heart's blood yet.
McFarquhar, as he listened, began to realize how deep was the wound
his old friend had suffered; but all he could say was, "You will come
out with me Michael, and a few weeks out with the dogs will put you
right," but Ould Michael was immovable and McFarquhar, bidding me
care for him and promising to return next week, rode off much
depressed. Before the week was over, however, he was back again with
great news and in a state of exaltation.

"The minister is coming," he announced.
"Minister?"
"Ay, he has been with me. The Rev. John Macleod" (or as he made it,
"Magleod") "from Inverness--and he is the grand man! He has the gift."
I remembered that he was a highlander and knew well what he meant.
"Yes, yes," he continued with his strongest accent, "he has been with
me, and very faithfully has he dealt with me. Oh! he is the man of God,
and I hev not heard the likes of him for forty years and more."
I listened with wonder, as McFarquhar described the visit of the Rev.
John Macleod to his home. I could easily imagine the close dealing
between the minister and McFarquhar, who would give him all
reverence and submission, but when I imagined the highland minister
dealing faithfully with the Indian wife and mother and her boys I failed
utterly.
"He could not make much of her," meaning his wife, "and the lads,"
said McFarquhar sadly, "but there it was that he came very close to
myself; and indeed--indeed--my sins have found me out."
"What did is say to you? What sins of yours did he discover?" I asked,
for McFarquhar was the most respectable man in all the valley.
"Oh did he not ask me about my family altar and my duties to my wife
and children?"
There was no manner of doubt but Mr. Macleod had done