1850               WHY THE LITTLE FRENCHMAN WEARS HIS HAND IN A SLING                               by Edgar Allan Poe   IT'S on my visiting cards sure enough (and it's them that's all o'pink satin paper) that inny gintleman that plases may behould theintheristhin words, "Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, 39Southampton Row, Russell Square, Parrish o' Bloomsbury." And shud yebe wantin' to diskiver who is the pink of purliteness quite, and thelaider of the hot tun in the houl city o' Lonon- why it's jist mesilf.And fait that same is no wonder at all at all (so be plased to stopcurlin your nose), for every inch o' the six wakes that I've been agintleman, and left aff wid the bogthrothing to take up wid theBarronissy, it's Pathrick that's been living like a houly imperor, andgitting the iddication and the graces. Och! and wouldn't it be ablessed thing for your spirrits if ye cud lay your two peepers jist,upon Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, when he is all riddy drissedfor the hopperer, or stipping into the Brisky for the drive into theHyde Park. But it's the illigant big figgur that I ave, for therason o' which all the ladies fall in love wid me. Isn't it my ownswate silf now that'll missure the six fut, and the three inchesmore nor that, in me stockins, and that am excadingly willproportioned all over to match? And it is ralelly more than threefut and a bit that there is, inny how, of the little ould furrenerFrinchman that lives jist over the way, and that's a oggling and agoggling the houl day, (and bad luck to him,) at the purty widdyMisthress Tracle that's my own nixt-door neighbor, (God bliss her!)and a most particuller frind and acquaintance? You percave thelittle spalpeen is summat down in the mouth, and wears his lift handin a sling, and it's for that same thing, by yur lave, that I'mgoing to give you the good rason.  The truth of the houl matter is jist simple enough; for the veryfirst day that I com'd from Connaught, and showd my swate littlesilf in the strait to the widdy, who was looking through the windy, itwas a gone case althegither with the heart o' the purty MisthressTracle. I percaved it, ye see, all at once, and no mistake, and that'sGod's truth. First of all it was up wid the windy in a jiffy, and thinshe threw open her two peepers to the itmost, and thin it was a littlegould spy-glass that she clapped tight to one o' them and divil mayburn me if it didn't spake to me as plain as a peeper cud spake, andsays it, through the spy-glass: "Och! the tip o' the mornin' to ye,Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, mavourneen; and it's a nategintleman that ye are, sure enough, and it's mesilf and me forten jistthat'll be at yur sarvice, dear, inny time o' day at all at all forthe asking." And it's not mesilf ye wud have to be bate in thepurliteness; so I made her a bow that wud ha' broken yur heartaltegither to behould, and thin I pulled aff me hat with a flourish,and thin I winked at her hard wid both eyes, as much as to say,"True for you, yer a swate little crature, Mrs. Tracle, me darlint,and I wish I may be drownthed dead in a bog, if it's not mesilf, SirPathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt, that'll make a houl bushel o' love toyur leddyship, in the twinkling o' the eye of a Londonderry purraty."  And it was the nixt mornin', sure, jist as I was making up me mindwhither it wouldn't be the purlite thing to sind a bit o' writin' tothe widdy by way of a love-litter, when up com'd the deliveryservant wid an illigant card, and he tould me that the name on it (forI niver could rade the copperplate printin on account of being lifthanded) was all about Mounseer, the Count, A Goose, Look- aisy,Maiter-di-dauns, and that the houl of the divilish lingo was thespalpeeny long name of the little ould furrener Frinchman as livedover the way.  And jist wid that in cum'd the little willian himself, and then hemade me a broth of a bow, and thin he said he had ounly taken theliberty of doing me the honor of the giving me a call, and thin hewent on to palaver at a great rate, and divil the bit did I comprehindwhat he wud be afther the tilling me at all at all, excipting andsaving that he said "pully wou, woolly wou," and tould me, among abushel o' lies, bad luck to him, that he was mad for the love o' mywiddy Misthress Tracle, and that my widdy Mrs. Tracle had a puncheonfor him.  At the hearin' of this, ye may swear, though, I was as mad as agrasshopper, but I remimbered that I was Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt, and that it wasn't althegither gentaal to lit the anger gitthe upper hand o' the purliteness, so I made light o' the matter andkipt dark, and got quite sociable wid the little chap, and afther awhile what did he do but ask me to go wid him to the widdy's, sayinghe wud give me the feshionable inthroduction to her leddyship.  "Is it there ye are?" said I thin to mesilf, "and it's thrue foryou, Pathrick, that ye're the fortunittest mortal in life. We'llsoon see now whither it's your swate silf, or whither it's littleMounseer Maiter-di-dauns, that Misthress Tracle is head and ears inthe love wid."  Wid that we wint aff to the widdy's, next door, and ye may wellsay it was an illigant place; so it was. There was a carpet all overthe floor, and in one corner there was a forty-pinny and a Jew'sharp and the divil knows what ilse, and in another corner was asofy, the beautifullest thing in all natur, and sitting on the sofy,sure enough, there was the swate little angel, Misthress Tracle.  "The tip o' the mornin' to ye," says I, "Mrs. Tracle," and thin Imade sich an illigant obaysance that it wud ha quite althegitherbewildered the brain o' ye.   "Wully woo, pully woo, plump in the mud," says the little furrennerFrinchman, "and sure Mrs. Tracle," says he, that he did, "isn't thisgintleman here jist his reverence Sir Pathrick O'Grandison, Barronitt,and isn't he althegither and entirely the most particular frind andacquaintance that I have in the houl world?"  And wid that the widdy, she gits up from the sofy, and makes theswatest curthchy nor iver was seen; and thin down she sits like anangel; and thin, by the powers, it was that little spalpeen MounseerMaiter-di-dauns that plumped his silf right down by the right sideof her. Och hon! I ixpicted the two eyes o' me wud ha cum'd out ofmy head on the spot, I was so dispirate mad! Howiver, "Bait who!" saysI, after awhile. "Is it there ye are, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns?" andso down I plumped on the lift side of her leddyship, to be aven withthe willain. Botheration! it wud ha done your heart good to percavethe illigant double wink that I gived her jist thin right in theface with both eyes.  But the little ould Frinchman he niver beginned to suspict me at allat all, and disperate hard it was he made the love to her leddyship."Woully wou," says he, Pully wou," says he, "Plump in the mud," sayshe.  "That's all to no use, Mounseer Frog, mavourneen," thinks I; and Italked as hard and as fast as I could all the while, and throth it wasmesilf jist that divarted her leddyship complately and intirely, byrason of the illigant conversation that I kipt up wid her all aboutthe dear bogs of Connaught. And by and by she gived me such a swatesmile, from one ind of her mouth to the ither, that it made me asbould as a pig, and I jist took hould of the ind of her littlefinger in the most dillikitest manner in natur, looking at her all thewhile out o' the whites of my eyes.  And then ounly percave the cuteness of the swate angel, for nosooner did she obsarve that I was afther the squazing of herflipper, than she up wid it in a jiffy, and put it away behind herback, jist as much as to say, "Now thin, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,there's a bitther chance for ye, mavourneen, for it's not altogetherthe gentaal thing to be afther the squazing of my flipper right fullin the sight of that little furrenner Frinchman, MounseerMaiter-di-dauns."  Wid that I giv'd her a big wink jist to say, "lit Sir Pathrick alonefor the likes o' them thricks," and thin I wint aisy to work, andyou'd have died wid the divarsion to behould how cliverly I slipped myright arm betwane the back o' the sofy, and the back of her leddyship,and there, sure enough, I found a swate little flipper all a waitingto say, "the tip o' the mornin' to ye, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt." And wasn't it mesilf, sure, that jist giv'd it the lastelittle bit of a squaze in the world, all in the way of a commincement,and not to be too rough wid her leddyship? and och, botheration,wasn't it the gentaalest and dilikittest of all the little squazesthat I got in return? "Blood and thunder, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen,"thinks I to mesilf, "fait it's jist the mother's son of you, andnobody else at all at all, that's the handsomest and thefortunittest young bog-throtter that ever cum'd out of Connaught!" Andwith that I givd the flipper a big squaze, and a big squaze it was, bythe powers, that her leddyship giv'd to me back. But it would ha splitthe seven sides of you wid the laffin' to behould, jist then all atonce, the consated behavior of Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns. The likeso' sich a jabbering, and a smirking, and a parley-wouing as he begin'dwid her leddyship, niver was known before upon arth; and divil mayburn me if it wasn't me own very two peepers that cotch'd himtipping her the wink out of one eye. Och, hon! if it wasn't mesilfthin that was mad as a Kilkenny cat I shud like to be tould who itwas!  "Let me infarm you, Mounseer Maiter-di-dauns," said I, as purlite asiver ye seed, "that it's not the gintaal thing at all at all, andnot for the likes o' you inny how, to be afther the oggling and agoggling at her leddyship in that fashion," and jist wid that suchanother squaze as it was I giv'd her flipper, all as much as to say,"isn't it Sir Pathrick now, my jewel, that'll be able to theproticting o' you, my darlint?" and then there cum'd another squazeback, all by way of the answer. "Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick," it saidas plain as iver a squaze said in the world, "Thrue for you, SirPathrick, mavourneen, and it's a proper nate gintleman ye are-that's God's truth," and with that she opened her two beautifulpeepers till I belaved they wud ha' cum'd out of her hid althegitherand intirely, and she looked first as mad as a cat at Mounseer Frog,and thin as smiling as all out o' doors at mesilf.  "Thin," says he, the willian, "Och hon! and a wolly-wou, pully-wou,"and then wid that he shoved up his two shoulders till the divil thebit of his hid was to be diskivered, and then he let down the twocorners of his purraty-trap, and thin not a haporth more of thesatisfaction could I git out o' the spalpeen.  Belave me, my jewel, it was Sir Pathrick that was unreasonable madthin, and the more by token that the Frinchman kipt an wid his winkingat the widdy; and the widdy she kept an wid the squazing of myflipper, as much as to say, "At him again, Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,mavourneen:" so I just ripped out wid a big oath, and says I;  "Ye little spalpeeny frog of a bog-throtting son of a bloody noun!"-and jist thin what d'ye think it was that her leddyship did? Troth shejumped up from the sofy as if she was bit, and made off through thedoor, while I turned my head round afther her, in a complatebewilderment and botheration, and followed her wid me two peepers. Youpercave I had a reason of my own for knowing that she couldn't gitdown the stares althegither and intirely; for I knew very well thatI had hould of her hand, for the divil the bit had I iver lit it go.And says I; "Isn't it the laste little bit of a mistake in the worldthat ye've been afther the making, yer leddyship? Come back now,that's a darlint, and I'll give ye yur flipper." But aff she wint downthe stairs like a shot, and thin I turned round to the little Frinchfurrenner. Och hon! if it wasn't his spalpeeny little paw that I hadhould of in my own- why thin- thin it wasn't- that's all.  And maybe it wasn't mesilf that jist died then outright wid thelaffin', to behold the little chap when he found out that it wasn'tthe widdy at all at all that he had had hould of all the time, butonly Sir Pathrick O'Grandison. The ould divil himself niver behildsich a long face as he pet an! As for Sir Pathrick O'Grandison,Barronitt, it wasn't for the likes of his riverence to be afther theminding of a thrifle of a mistake. Ye may jist say, though (for it'sGod's thruth), that afore I left hould of the flipper of thespalpeen (which was not till afther her leddyship's futman hadkicked us both down the stairs, I giv'd it such a nate little broth ofa squaze as made it all up into raspberry jam.  "Woully wou," says he, "pully wou," says he- "Cot tam!"  And that's jist the thruth of the rason why he wears his lift handin a sling.                                                   LITTLETON BARRY.                                THE END.