Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 45, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 November 1895 — Successful Hoax. [ARTICLE]

Successful Hoax.

Edmond J. Armstrong, an Irish poet; who died at the age of 23, had in his disposition a vein of rollicking fun, to | which he evidently yielded In order to cover the real melancholy of his daily mood. One story of him and his prank* shows' not only an extreme love of drollery, but also the freedom of Irish life* years ago, In Its domestic relations. One autumn night, after he had been wandering all day among the hills, hearrived very late at his father’s house, to find It dark and silent. He knocked and rang, again and again, and at last the voice of a servant was heard from within, demanding: “Who’s there?” The timidity evinced by the tone of voice aroused Armstrong’s sense of tun, and he resolved to perpetrate a joke. So he assumed the brogue and manner of a drunken country fellow, and demanded to be let in. “Let me In!” he called, “or I*ll pull down the house.” “Go away! Go away!” came the voice. “•Go away, is it?” he cried. “I won’t go away!” And he knocked more furiously than ever. His father, disturbed by the noise, now descended the stairs and called: “Who are you?” “I’m a poor counthry fellow, and I want a night’s lodging. I haven’t s penny to buy a bit of bread with, and I haven’t a stitch of clothes on my back, and I’ve burled all belonging to me!” “Well, there’s nothing for you here, my man; so you’d better go about your business.” “O charity! charity! Christian charity!” cried Armstrong. “What’s a poor benighted traveler to do at all, at all?” “Go away, sir, at once, or I’ll call the police!” ' “The pollss, avourneen? Ah, musha, musha; there’s a nice, kind gintleman! But look at here, your honor! I’ve got two fine birds for yer honor’s lardshlpl Take thim, anyhow. I’ll return good for evil, so I will! I’ll bear no malice! So take the two little birds!” “Who are you, and what is your business?” “My business is pig dhrivin’, and I want a night’s lodgin’.” “Then, once for all, I tell you to go away!” “Oh, thin, it’ll be the worse for you If you dhrive poor Tom from your door. These is dangerous times.” Then, roaring through the keyhole, “These is dangerous times, I say!” The whole household was now roused. “Oh, go away, I tell you!” cried the father, really angry at last. “Thin jipt open the door a bit and take the little birds, and I’ll go, and joy be with yez!” “Papa, papa!” came a soft voice from above. “It’s Edmund. Don’t you know it must be Edmund? Who else cduld it be?” “Let me in, or I’ll smash down the door!” called Armstrong, in the greatest delight over his joke. With that the door was opened, and in he tumbled with a brace of grouse in one hand and his valise in the other, amid a volley of happy laughter.