'The Quare Gander' Page #3

"The Quare Gander" is a short story by Joseph Thomas Sheridan Le Fanu, known for his contributions to Gothic literature. It revolves around themes of identity, deception, and the supernatural. The narrative unfolds in a rural Irish setting, where an eccentric character, Mr. Crumpe, engages in a bizarre encounter involving a mysterious and malevolent figure that leads to a series of unsettling events. Le Fanu’s skillful use of atmosphere and psychological tension serves to explore deeper human fears and societal issues, making this tale a compelling study of the uncanny and a reflection on the nature of reality and the self.

• Fiction

								

in with them, for they didn't half like the notions iv havin' no company
but the bewitched gandher, an' small blame to them for that same.

'But although they wor shaking in their skhins in dhread iv the ould
bird beginnin' to convarse them every minute, they did not let an' to
one another, bud kep singin' an' whistlin' like mad, to keep the dread
out iv their hearts.

'Well, afther they war on the road betther nor half an hour, they kem to
the bad bit close by Father Crotty's, an' there was one divil of a rut
three feet deep at the laste; an' the car got sich a wondherful chuck
goin' through it, that it wakened Terence widin in the basket.

'"Bad luck to ye," says he, "my bones is bruck wid yer thricks; what the
divil are ye doin' wid me?"

'"Did ye hear anything quare, Thady?" says the boy that was next to the
car, turnin' as white as the top iv a musharoon; "did ye hear anything
quare soundin' out iv the hamper?" says he.

'"No, nor you," says Thady, turnin' as pale as himself, "it's the ould
gandher that's gruntin' wid the shakin' he's gettin'," says he.

'"Where the divil have ye put me into," says Terence inside, "bad luck
to your sowls," says he, "let me out, or I'll be smothered this minute,"
says he.

'"There's no use in purtending," says the boy, "the gandher's spakin',
glory be to God," says he.

'"Let me out, you murdherers," says Terence.

'"In the name iv the blessed Vargin," says Thady, "an' iv all the holy
saints, hould yer tongue, you unnatheral gandher," says he.

'"Who's that, that dar to call me nicknames?" says Terence inside,
roaring wid the fair passion, "let me out, you blasphamious infiddles,"
says he, "or by this crass I'll stretch ye," says he.

'"In the name iv all the blessed saints in heaven," says Thady, "who the
divil are ye?"

'"Who the divil would I be, but Terence Mooney," says he. "It's myself
that's in it, you unmerciful bliggards," says he, "let me out, or by
the holy, I'll get out in spite iv yes," says he, "an' by jaburs, I'll
wallop yes in arnest," says he.

'"It's ould Terence, sure enough," says Thady, "isn't it cute the fairy
docthor found him out," says he.

'"I'm an the pint iv snuffication," says Terence, "let me out, I tell
you, an' wait till I get at ye," says he, "for begorra, the divil a bone
in your body but I'll powdher," says he.

'An' wid that, he biginned kickin' and flingin' inside in the hamper,
and dhrivin his legs agin the sides iv it, that it was a wonder he did
not knock it to pieces.

'Well, as soon as the boys seen that, they skelped the ould horse into
a gallop as hard as he could peg towards the priest's house, through the
ruts, an' over the stones; an' you'd see the hamper fairly flyin' three
feet up in the air with the joultin'; glory be to God.

'So it was small wondher, by the time they got to his Raverince's door,
the breath was fairly knocked out of poor Terence, so that he was lyin'
speechless in the bottom iv the hamper.

'Well, whin his Raverince kem down, they up an' they tould him all
that happened, an' how they put the gandher into the hamper, an' how he
beginned to spake, an' how he confissed that he was ould Terence Mooney;
an' they axed his honour to advise them how to get rid iv the spirit for
good an' all.

'So says his Raverince, says he:

'"I'll take my booke," says he, "an' I'll read some rale sthrong holy
bits out iv it," says he, "an' do you get a rope and put it round the
hamper," says he, "an' let it swing over the runnin' wather at the
bridge," says he, "an' it's no matther if I don't make the spirit come
out iv it," says he.

'Well, wid that, the priest got his horse, and tuck his booke in undher
his arum, an' the boys follied his Raverince, ladin' the horse down to
the bridge, an' divil a word out iv Terence all the way, for he seen
it was no use spakin', an' he was afeard if he med any noise they might
thrait him to another gallop an finish him intirely.

'Well, as soon as they war all come to the bridge, the boys tuck the
rope they had with them, an' med it fast to the top iv the hamper an'
swung it fairly over the bridge, lettin' it hang in the air about twelve
feet out iv the wather.

'An' his Raverince rode down to the bank of the river, close by, an'
beginned to read mighty loud and bould intirely.

'An' when he was goin' on about five minutes, all at onst the bottom iv
the hamper kem out, an' down wint Terence, falling splash dash into the
water, an' the ould gandher a-top iv him. Down they both went to the
bottom, wid a souse you'd hear half a mile off.

'An' before they had time to rise agin, his Raverince, wid the fair
astonishment, giv his horse one dig iv the spurs, an' before he knew
where he was, in he went, horse an' all, a-top iv them, an' down to the
bottom.

'Up they all kem agin together, gaspin' and puffin', an' off down wid
the current wid them, like shot in under the arch iv the bridge till
they kem to the shallow wather.

'The ould gandher was the first out, and the priest and Terence
kem next, pantin' an' blowin' an' more than half dhrounded, an' his
Raverince was so freckened wid the droundin' he got, and wid the sight
iv the sperit, as he consaved, that he wasn't the better of it for a
month.

'An' as soon as Terence could spake, he swore he'd have the life of the
two gossoons; but Father Crotty would not give him his will. An' as soon
as he was got quiter, they all endivoured to explain it; but Terence
consaved he went raly to bed the night before, and his wife said the
same to shilter him from the suspicion for havin' th' dthrop taken. An'
his Raverince said it was a mysthery, an' swore if he cotched
anyone laughin' at the accident, he'd lay the horsewhip across their
shouldhers.

'An' Terence grew fonder an' fonder iv the gandher every day, until at
last he died in a wondherful old age, lavin' the gandher afther him an'
a large family iv childher.

'An' to this day the farm is rinted by one iv Terence Mooney's lenial
and legitimate postariors.'
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