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PADDT'8 OPINION OF HIS MISTRESS. p. 16. 



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m^ OF TEE EO(J; 



A TAJ E OF 'tk^ imsri^^ASAKTltY. 



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SIBS. J.1NK D.> CJ1.LPLIN. 



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PUBLlXSHRn BV THE 

XMEUirvN tRACT SOCIETY, 
IM TUEMyAT bmvxT, nosxoN. 



^ 




GEMS OP THE BOG; 



A TALE OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY. 



MRS. JANE D. CHAPLIN. 




!■ 



L 



?l3 

.C37 



Entered according to Act of Congross, in the year 1869, by 
JANE DUNBAU ClIAl'LIN. 
In the Clerk's Offlco of t!.e District Court of tho District of 
AlasHackusetts. 



The principal characters and Bcenes in the foUowing 
pages ore dniwn, very nearly, from real life. The Btory 
was first published as a serial in the "Watchman and 

Beflector." 

J. D. C. 



^ 



^. 



year 1869, by 

N. 

the District of 




the following 
life. The story 
Watchman and 



4 coyTEyrn. 

XXV. A CoxflBf RATED Live 

XXVI. Visit from Friesd am) Foe 

S13 
XXVII. Goiso TO Ameuica, 

223 

XWIII. A l-AlSKfl. I'AUTISO 

. . 329 
XXIX. Stoles nv the Foe 

339 

XXX. I'ATIEST IX TBIBULATIOX, 

XXXI. New IIcmeb is tue New World, . . • • 3»3 

8G3 
XXXII. Padpy'8 Wisdom 

XXXIII. A Joyful Meetiso, 

381 

XXXIV. The Old Fob aqain, 

888 

XXXV. rBOMOTlOIC AMD BEWABD, 



••" iili^i^rfarMi^MtfMift^'MiwMiwhii 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



CHAPTER I. 




THE PIBST FAMILIES OP KILLYROOKE. 

THE picturesque little liamlet of Killyrooko 
consisted of one long row of straw-thatched 
cottages, each having its garden patch stocked 
with potatoes and cabbages, and graced by a 
pig-pen. In most of the dwellings a hole in 
the wall sufficed for a window, while the floor 
was only the hard-beaten earth. Art had 
never entered Killyrooko ; but nature, so 
lavish of her bounties to all beautiful Ireland, 
had not forgotten this remote and quiet nook. 
The green lawns, the fields of flax and barley, 
the high old hedges, the bluest r id brightest 
of waters, (he blackest and richest of bogs had 




■HP 



e 0^3/5 OF THE BOO. 

charms unutterable for the hearts of hor simple 
children. A.s the Switzer inoiuna for his 
mountains, and the Icelander for his snows, 
60 they, when exiled, mourn for their native 

bogs. 

Tlic society of Killyrooko, huml)lo as it was, 
boasted of its distinctions as much as did that 
of neighboring towns. The fanner — so called 
— sat upon the pinnacle of the little social 
fabric. Ho leased a bit of land, and owned a 
donkey, two or three cows, and pigs whoso 
name was legion. The next grade wore the 
laborers, many of them meriting that name 
only in harvest, lining as they did in idleness 
and want most of the year ; while the lowliest 
of all were the professional beggars, who lived 
on Uio bounty of the gentry and larger farmers 
in the surrounding region, and who made their 
lieadquarters in Killyrooke, finding shelter in 

dilapidated huts and cow-houses, or with the 

tender-hearted peasants. 

At one end of tho long street lay in quiet 

beauty tho little " Lough," a heritage of mercy 

to tho people. Beside its bright* waters tho 



JUtJtm, 



♦ ■- 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 7 



her simple 
IS for Ilia 
his snows, 
leir native 

as it was, 
as did tliat 
— so called 
ittle social 
d owned a 
pigs whoso 
ifc were the 
that name 
in idleness 
the lowliest 
i, who lived 
sier farmers 

made their 
; shelter in 
or with the 

lay in quiet 
ige of mercy 
b» waters the 



ruddy daughters of the hamlet met once a 
week to wash their garments and to gossip 
over alfaii-s of common interest. All day these 
nymplis stood knee deep in the water, splashing 
it about, eitlicr in work or play, while their 
plaintive Irisli airs, chanted in time with their 
riibbiiig, and their merry wild laughter, woke 
the echoes from the neighboring hills. The 
washing done, they spread their clothes on the 
briglit turf around the " Lougl<," and then sat 
down to wait for sunset, which always brought 
brothers, friends and lovers, as well as the 
older people, who came from curiosity to see 
and hear all that interested the girls and boys. - 
What " Change " is to the city merchant, what 
the tavern and the store are to the remote 
villager, what the " sewing-society " is to 
ladies among us, the Lough was, at the 
time of which we write, to the dwellers iu 
Killyrooke. Hero the old men bargained for 
lonkeys and discussed the probable price, of 
potatoes; here the young "boys" planned 
long tramps to fairs and horse-races, and ex- 



• QEMS OF THE BOO. - !' 

changed soft words with the ruddj-cheekod 
girls resting on the green banks. And in 
the background the mothers whispered their 
secrets of juy or woe in each other's ears, and 
the grandmothers — always the nursery-maids 
amoi/g the the lowly Irish — swung themselves 
to and fro, wailing the babies to slumber, and 
varying their motion and their music )jy an 
occasional blow or epithet aimed at the older 
urchins, who thwarted their efforts by tickling 
the toes of tlie drowsy infants. 

We have said there was an aristocracy in 
this humble Killyrooke. It comprised the 
rival houses of Shcehra and O'Gorman, and 
arose mainly from tlie iact tliat their ancestors 
had more land and better cottages tlian their 
neighbors, and tliat their dwellings alone had 
each a glass window to admit the light and to 
exclude the rain. But alas for human great- 
ness ! There must bo always some drawback 
to its perfect enjoyment. Tliese families had 
for generations been bitter rivals as well as 
equals, and the distii\ction enjoyed by both 



wM i \t m ) t a^m 




f-- 



mm 



Jj-clicekod 
. And in 
)erod their 
s ears, and 
rsei-y-maids 
tliomsclvcs 
uinbei, and 
usic by an 
; the older 
by tickling 

stocraoy in 
prised the 
rman, and 
• ancestors 
tlian their 
alone had 
;ht and to 
nan groat- 
drawback 
milies had 
as well as 
i by both 



THE FinST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. » 

cbove tlioir neighbors could not atone for the 
heart-burnings and envy on the one hand, and 
the wounded feelings on tlic other. 

But at the time when our story begins, the 
equality was broken, and the rivalry was 
waning. Slotli had taken captive the represen- 
tative of tho O'Gornians ; while that " whicli 
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an 
adder " had bound in its not less ruinous coil 
tho wife, Biddy. Tims nine young scions of 
tho house were left without care or restraint, 
save the brawlings exchanged between them- 
selves, and the beatings bestowed on the 
younger eight by the first-born of the family, 
Nan, a briglit girl of seventeen. 

Nan O'Gorman was very fair, having in 
some way monopolized all tho beauty in tho 
family. Once in a while tho dying energy of 
lior race would suddenly flash up in lior breast, 
and for days she would scrub and sweep the 
cottage, wabh the children's faces, switcli tho 
pigs from tlio door-way, and begin to spin yarn 
for the winter's stockings. Then the embers 
would die out, and Nan was off to a race on 



10 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



a slionr, roturniiigiii such company and at buch 
a time as pk-ascd liersclf. Moan\vliil« ilio little 
ones got a meal, or a crust, or went siipperless 
to bed, accordii 2 to the quantity of whiskey 
their mother had been able to procure. Is it 
any wonder, then, that the clay chimney had 
fallen, and that the envied glass window had 
been boarded up for want of panes ? 

While the O'Gormans wore thus falling to 
decay, the Shcehans, who lived across the way, 
still prospered in woildly things, and kept up 
their honor and their name. Prudence and in- 
dustry, long the guardians of Uieir humble 
dwelling, still spread their wings above it ; 
plenty blessed the cottage and tlie laud, and 
none in want wore ever scut empty from the 
door. . 

There was not, and never had boen,oi.v. point 
ou which these two families could meet in sym- 
pathy. " We are no farther apart now," said 
John Sheehan, the farmer of Daisy Farm, 
" than we iver war. The O'Gormans hrvo been 
Papists since the time when there war darkness 
on the face o' the deep, as mentioned in Scrip- 



/* 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE 11 



md at such 
lij ilio littlo 
siipporlesa 
of whiskey 
euro. Is it 
limticy had 
(riudow had 

I falling to 
iss the way, 
id kept up 
nice and in- 
cir humble 
i abovo it ; 
3 laud, and 
y from the 

n,ohv point 
loet in sym- 
now," said 
'aisy Farm, 
8 hrvo been 
ar darkness 
ed iu Scrip- 



tur ', and the Shcehans have been Protestants 
since the day in which God said, ' Let there bo 
h-ht.' " 

But neither of these men, we are sorry to 
say, was a consistent defender of his own faith ; 
for while Pat O'Gorraan would roll up his 
sleeves and fight in defence of the " mother 
church " and all her mummeries, he lived in 
utter disregard of the decalogue she command- 
ed him to obey. And John Sheehan, with the 
Assembly's Catechism on his tongue, and a 
liatred of all Popery in his heart, was only a 
self-righteous Pliarisee, walking in the ligl»t 
of the fire his own hands had kindled. He 
gloried in his "la ning," in his Protestantism, 
in his Scotch descent, iu the piety of his par- 
ents, in the respect paid him in the little Pres- 
byterian church of the next town, and in every 
thing he had and did. Ho lacked humility, 
and was in great danger of striking a rock, as 
he sailed on with his eyes shut to the dangers 
aroiuid him. Ho was blind while boasting of 
his clear sight ; dead in siu while ho fancied 
himself a living and active member, to whom 



A 






iH 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



the " body of Christ " was under great obliga- 
tion. " It's a fine thing to bo a Ciiristian," he 
said, " but a finer tiling to be a rispcctiblo 
Christian." 

But, for all this sclf-dcccption, John Sheehan 
led a very different life from hi.s neighbor. Tiio 
dorniouse-lilte existence of O'Gorman wo have 
mentioned already. John Sheehan, like Iiis 
ancestors, was noted for his mercy to the poor 
and liis strict nttenlion to his own busi- 
ness. It was his proudest boast — and John 
was a proud man — that his ancestors wore all 
of his own way of tliinking, and that the grcat- 
great-rrandfathcr back of tiieni all, Hugh Mc- 
Millan, was a Scotch Covenantor; and that 
wliilo a drop of tliat holy biood was left in his 
veins he would liato sin and cleave to temper- 
ance and virtue; and that no beggar or outcast 
should bo sent hungry from his door ; he would 
feed and shelter Protestants for their own 
Bakes, and Catholics for the love of God, who 
made and bears with them. 

Daisy Farm was well-tilled, and divided by 
wide ditches an. hedges of long growth, and 



>")it Md «i i i)' .,t i iiB - i iii ji i i Mi^ i w i t i»tt«i l f t r. . 



^■i 



THE FinST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 13 



ir great obliga- 
Cliristiaii," he 
1 a rispcctiblo 

John Sheehan 
neighbor. Tlio 
i-inan we have 
chan, like liis 
•cy to the poor 
[lis own busi- 
st — and John 
cstors wore all 
tliat the grcat- 
\\\, Hugh Mc- 
;or ; and that 
vas left in his 
ave to tcmpcr- 
;gar or outcast 
loor ; he would 
for tlieir own 
I of God, who 

nd divided hj 
ij, growth, and 



John's htti'vcsta were always the richest in the 
rcjrion. His cattle were well fed and housed, 
and treated almost like members of his family. 
Not t-cldom did ho address a restless cow in 
soft tones, saying, " Gently, dear, gently." He 
was tlic soul of good nature, so that the O'Gor- 
tiiaiis had found it much harder keeping up 
ciuuity with him, than with his stern, resolute 
old father before him. It was very hard to 
hate the man who called their dirty children 
" dearies," and who fed them with ginger- 
bread. 

As John kept up the reputation of the farm, 
so did his wife that of tlie dairy and poultry- 
yard. Hia aged mother was still regarded as 
head of the family, and treated with a defer' 
cnco amounting to veneration. Her husband, 
wliilo he lived, had always called her " Honey," 
so her dairy-maid and the farm-servant fell in- 
to the way of calling her " Misthress Honey," 
and to John she had always been " Mammy 
Honey." And when John lirought a young 
mistress to the cottage, the good woman found 
herself called " Mammy Honey," by way of 



14 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



If 



distiiicHon from the new Mistress Shoelian, by 
all Killyrooke. Never was a sweet name more 
justly applied. Her gentleness, love of peace 
and true generosity had long made her a won- 
der — almost an object of awe — among lier 
neiglibors. To her was due the peace which 
had cheered the last hours of the old rivals — 
her husband and the father of Pat O' Gorman, 
— and her soft word had often turned away 
from John and his wife the wrath of the present 
occupants of the ruined cot. 

Mammy Honey was not merely a good-tem- 
pered woman ; she possessed a strong mind 
and a noble heart. The stern blood of the old 
McMillans flowed through her veins, and the 
faith whicli had enabled them to sing psalms 
of triumph in the face of tbeir foes still burned 
in her heart and lighted up her eyes. Had 
she lived in the days of the Covenanters, 
rather than have yielded her conscience to a 
tyrannical king she would have added her 
blood to that wliteh then moistened the Scottish 
moors. 

For fifty years, since she came a bride to 



^^mS&mDKmmKum 



timtt- 



s Shoehan, by 
3ot namo more 

lovo of peace 
ido her a won- 
— among lier 
3 peace whicli 
) old rivals — 
at O' Gorman, 
L turned away 

of the present 

[y a good-tem- 
strong mind 
ood of the old 
reins, and the 
to sing psalms 
les still burned 
3r eyes. Had 
Covenanters, 
onscience to a 
.VQ added her 
ed the Scottish 

me a bride to 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLTROOKE. 15 

Killyrooke, Mammy Honey had walked blame- 
less among her neighbors, yielding her inter- 
ests, her feelings, every thing but her con- 
science, for peace's sake. While no bitter 
words ever escaped her lips against the pre- 
vailing religion, she set her face with Puritanic 
firmuess against all which she believed to be 
heresy, so tiiat while serving and watchiiig, as 
had always been her wont, by ti»e sick-bed of 
her neighbors, she had never suffered her eyes 
to look upon, nor her ears to hear, the forms 

* 

and mummeries which she regarded as the 
idolatry forbidden in the Word of Truth. 

While the thriftless women about her en- 
vied her neat cottage, her fruitful garden, and 
her whole glass window, they loved her, and, 
aside from the rival O'Gormans, there was 
scarcely one in the hamlet who would have 
listened silently while her name was lightly 
spoken ; a few were even sensitive, for her sake, 
when the church of her love was reviled. 

When, arrayed in her brown Sunday gown, 
ond cloak of duffle gray, with her broad frilled 
cap bound to her head by a black ribbou, and 




4mM> g^ 



16 



OEMS OF nil': Doa. 



^ 



■■■4 



loaning on John's strong arm, Mammy Honey 
walked erect and firm to the little Presbyte- 
rian cliurch at Cloynmally, she looked like a 
duchess in disguise ratlier than like the hum- 
ble peasant slio was. ' 

One Sunday morning as she set off thus, her 
farm-servant, Paddy Mannon — of whom more 
anon — exclaimed to a trail of companions 
who passed on their way to mass, while ho, 
easy soul, sf|t astride the stile gazing at them, 
"Look at her, b'ys, this gold morning! 
Heaven smile on her beauty! Sure, thin, 
she was made for a throne, but sint in mis- 
take to a farm ; and will ye dare to say that 
because she turns her back on the church, and 
* his riverenco,' and the saints, and the picturs, 
and the beads, that she'll not enter heaven ? 
'Dade I'll fight the first one as dares say it ; 
and ril bet my new brogues with any of ye 
that tliere's not as fine-looking a woman in 
heaven now as herself is — tlie bet to be paid 
when we gits there and proves it." And Paddy 
jvinked at his comrades, to impress them with 
his shrewdness, while they laughed and called 



'm/iMKirtuK:m»mi»«a0inmiaeta>m^ 




THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 17 



laininy Iloiioy 
ttlo Prcsl»yto- 

loukcd like a 
like tho hum- 
it off thus, lier 
jfwlioiu more 
' companions 
ass, while he, 
zing at them, 
>ld morning ! 
! Sure, thin, 
tt sint in mis- 
ire to say that 
le church, and 
nd the picturs, 
3ntcr heaven ? 

dares say it ; 
rith auy of ye 
; a woman in 

bet to be paid 
." And Paddy 
ress them with 
iied and called 



back, " How comes it, Paddy, that ye 'bides in 
tlio true churdi ycrpelf, while ye believe that 
Protestants will entar heaven as well as our- 
selves ? " 

" How is it, indade ? " replied Paddy. " It's 
because I was boru in it, and can't throw it 
off like ray coat, and I wouldn't if I could, be 
so mane. I'm not plazed wif' the freckles on 
my face, but do ye think I'm going to skin 
myself to get clear o' them ? I don't like 
these dull little eyes o' my own, but do ye 
tliink I'll pull them out o' my head for that 
same ? Indade, no ! I stands on my honor, I 
docs, in this matter o' religion ; and though' 
tliouiKclves has fed, and clothed, a' J rared me 
from a starved workhouse-child, I'll not throw 
up my religion to plazo them. I'm great on 
conscience, and I'm not the h'y to sell my 
principles for a home, my birthright for a bowl 
()' porridge, as one meau-sperited lad in tho 
Scriptur' did ; not I." 

Paddy was a man made up of contradictions, 
lie was faithful to tlie Sheehans but he was 
so (jareless of the poor wages he earned that 









wi0m\ 




«RPB 



rs 



OEMS OF TIIK BOa. 



1 



lio cither gave or tlwcw thcLi away as soon as 
he got tlieiu. lie Iiad a x^ifo and child, and 
would go almost wild with joy when they came 
to see him, hut if months elapsed without a 
visit, he never sought them out, nor felt any 
anxiety for their welfare. He made all man- 
ner of sport of " his riveronce and the church," 
but almost fell on his knees at sight of the 
priest, and shook with fear when rebuked by 
him for unfaithfulness. He was as light- 
hearted as the colt he was rearing, and felt no 
more care for the future. It was joy enough 
for him to live, and " sarve Misthress Honey." 



(^- 



— Al 



?-^i. 

■■^'k 



ay ns soon as 
nd child, and 
len they came 
;cd without a 
, nor felt ony 
lade all man- 
[ the church," 
sight of the 
1 rebuked by 
vm as light- 
g, and felt no 
IS joy enough 
ress Honey." 



CHAPTER n. 



A NEW MISTRESS. 



JOHN Sheohan had lived many years after 
his father's death with no companion but his 
mother and Faddy Mannon. Being of a very 
social nature, he sometimes complained that 
tiic cottage was " a dale too silent and lone " 
for him; and yet he had reached thirty without 
a tliought of marrying. When one suggested 
tiiat he needed a wife, he would ask, with filial 
jealousy, " Do ye see any thing goin' wrong 
about the cottage or farm, that a wife could 
mend ? And where would I ever find a woman 
tliat would bide bein' subject to Mammy 
Honey ? And that every body about mo shall 
be, while Heaven spares her — the darling." 

He had scarcely uttered these words to a 
neighbor who was bantering him one day, when 
ho drove off to sell five " lovely young pigs " 




.^^r- .r.'':i'^rm jig ^i- 'gy — • " 



80 



QEMS OF TEE BOO. 



I 



to Farmer Doane, a prosperous man in the next 
county. Arrived there, lie received a welco*ne 
botli as nicrcliaiit and as guest, and after 
pocketing his silver, took his place at the long 
deal table, on which smoked the sweet bacon, 
potatoes ai)d cabbage raised on tiio farm. Here 
his eye fell on Peggy O'Canty, a young orphan 
who assisted the good wife in the dairy, and 
whom the worthy couple alveays addressed as 
" Peggy, jewel." Ho stole one sly glance at 
her as she poured out the buttermilk at table, 
and another when he left the kitchen to ac- 
company Doaiie to the cow-houso ; and then 
he mustered courage to ask her name and 
history. 

In a marvellously short time John had pigs 
to sell again, to the great amazement of Mam- 
my Honey, who looked upon it very much like 
selling her relations ; and in this second visit 
to Doane's ho fairly lost his heart, and came 
home laying plans to brighten up the cottage, 
and buy a new donkey-cart and a suit of 
" younger-lookin' clothes." 

When he got t*addy Mannou off to his bed 



*^ 



owdMMKMiMltWOxMtMllnt., 



A NEW MISTRESS. 



%l 



an in ilie next 
ired a wclcoTie 
ist, and after 
CO at the long 
3 sweet bacon, 
10 farm. Hero 
young orphan 
the dairy, and 
addressed as 
sly glance at 
milk at table, 
itchen to ac- 
so ; and then 
or naino and 

John had pigs 
ment of Main- 
ery much like 
8 second visit 
art, and came 
3 the cottage, 
ud a suit of 



)ff to his bed 



in the loft that night, John opened his mind to 
his mother, dwelling on Peggy's charms of 
face, and manner, and heart, as if he had 
known her for years, while the truth was ho 
had never yet spoken to her! "And now, 
Mammy Honey," he said, "here's the way 
open for mo to have company, and for yo to 
have liclp in the cottage and the dairy ; what 
would you say to my bringing her here ? " 

" I'd think well o' it, John," replied the old 
woman, " if I knew she war a humble, God- 
fearing child, for it's such a one yo need, and 
not a flighty thing that would be running ofif to 
fairs and races and leading ye farther off from 
God — which same is unneodful. Ye must ride 
over to Doane's some day and ask him is tho 
girl a Protestant and a Christian, and does she 
mind her duty humbly, as if sho felt tho 
Masther's eye on her. And more, John, dear, 
ask is sho tinder and loving ; for I could niver 
give ye up without getting back love as my 
payment ; for yc aro all I have loft in tho world, 
now! O, lad, it's a great thing for a mother 
to give her only son to another woman, and 



a 



* 



22 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



one she niver saw ! But as I have not been a 
selfisli inotiior, no more will I be now ! May 
ton thousand blessings rest on ye both, darling, 
and may I live to see yo Imppy together." 

John soon " got leave of his mother" — ho 
was a man of six feet two, weighing two 
hundred pounds ! — "to ask a lino of character 
from the minister of Oloynmally to Peggy's 
master, bogging his leave to marry her." 
Hitherto Peggy had never heard of his inten- 
tions, and was quite amazed when her master 
explained matters to her in presence of the 
suitor. After John had left the house, she 
expressed great surprise to her mistress why 
such a fine, settled body should bo looking after 
a poor, foolish, shy tiling like herself. But the 
acquaintance grow and ripened as well as it 
would have done environed by the strictest 
rules of etiquette. When at last the matter 
was settled, Peggy could hardly toll which she 
loved most, John or his mother. She was 
quite as proud of Mammy Honey — who had 
visited ht>r with an offering of ten hanks of 
flax yarn, ten ells of lineu aud six pairs of 



. ^iViiiai:: w^^a:Lv;&i:sK.j'. . 



#ar 



Q not been a 
> now ! May 
joth, darling, 
;otlier." 
other" — ho 
3ighing two 
of character 

to Peggy's 
aarry her." 
>f his inten- 

her master 
once of tlio 

house, she 
listrcss why 
ooking after 
ir. But the 
I well as it 
he strictest 

the matter 
.1 which she 
. She was 
— who had 
1 hanks of 
ix pairs of 



A NEW MJSTRE88. 28 

stockings — as of her son, "the fine settled 
masther." 

When the marriage ceremony was over, 
John brought Pcfegy homo in the new donkey- 
cart, — tlie only equipage his establishment 
boasted. Manuny tloncy stood in the cottago 
door arrayed in her besi cap and gown, to 
receive them, while Paddy Mannon, in his 
Sunday corduroys and brogues, took the 
donkey's bridle, and stood waiting to witness 
Peggy's reception. j ' 

F«lding the young orphan to her breast, 
Mannny Honey cried out, with the eloquence of 
her people, " Blissed bo the God and Father 
of the orphan, that has this day given ye a 
mother, Peggy O'Canty ! Blissed be the God 
and husband of the widow, that has this day 
given me a daughter, who never had a one 
before ! It is this old heart, jewel, lAiat will 
hide ye where trouble can never find ye ; and 
it's on yer loviu' breast, mavourneen, that 
I'll loan and forget there's such things as old 
age and wakeness in the world." 

Then throwing her arms around the stalwart 



i 



i?i;i 



mi 

Hi 



11 



GEMS OF TBFI BOO. 



form of John, she cried out, " Ye, darlin', 
are the con o' a righteous man, and have come 
of a long line o' them that feared God. Tlie 
promise to the seed o' thd rigliteous has been 
fulfilled to ye, and see now t'.iat ye 'bide in the 
fear o' God and seek Him henceforth with tlie 
whole heart. Look, boy," she continued, 
" and see what God has given ye to make 
your home shine like heaven, and to close the 
dying eyes o' yer ^!d motlier ! God save ye, 
John, from ever piercing her heart with one 
sharp word. And now the grace o' God Jjido 
on ye both and on this house ! " 

Peggy was a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl, 
"made of love, entirely," John himself — and 
who should know better than he ? — being 
witness in the case. She loved everything, 
from John and liis mother down to the ducks 
and th^chr"kens ; whatever had life shared in 
her love or pity. She now bound up her hair 
under a snowy cap, saying, " As John are ten 
years older nor me, he'll be plazed to see me 
layin' oflF girlish ways and lookin' sober-like." 
Bhe applied Lersolf to her work with that 



--0mm^^^ ui 



r- 



A NEW MISTRESS. 



25 



«Yo, darlin', 
and have come 
ed God. Tlie 
:eous has been 
jre 'bide in the 
iforth with tlie 
lie contiiined, 

ye to make 
d to close tlie 
God save yo, 
iart witli one 
) o' God Jjido 

ir-liaircd girl, 
himself — and 
he ? — being 
5d everything, 
1 to the ducks 
life shared in 
d up her hair 
I John are ten 
ized to see me 
i' sober-like." 
>rk with that 



gliid spirit wliicli changes toil to a blessing, 
iiiid «)oii bccaiiio the modol wife of the region. 
The whitest flax, tlio sweetest butter and the 
brightest licarth-stoiie were hers. But such 
was lier liumility that she took none of the 
credit, but always spoke of " Mammy Honey's 
silver flax " and " Mammy Honey's golden 
i)iittcr ; ■ ' and wondered why John ever chose 
her for his wife, and how Mammy Honey 
could l)ear so patiently with her slow ways, 
and never weary teaching her her own " il- 
cgant " ones ! . , 

"^Uny a richer and wiser bride has gone to 
her husband's home without such a welcome as 
Poggy received at Daisy Farm; many a 
mother has given away a son with no such re- 
turn of love to cheer Jier declining days as that 
in wiiicli Mammy Honey now rejoiced, and for 
which she praised God in prayer and song, and 
tliank-offorings to every beggar she could find. 
And the thatch, which she declared was "just 
full o' the prayers of centuries," sheltered a 
happier family than did the lofty dome and 
wainscoted walls of Harploy Hall, — the seat of 



I 



i9 



.«5 



'I'll 



m 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



the gentleman who owned and neglected Killy- 
rooke, and the region between it and his fine 
mansion. 

Years wore on at Daisy Farm. The family 
had their sorrows, but tiiey were hardly worth 
the name. John had lost a donkey one year 
and a cow the next, and Mammy Honey was 
afflicted by "gapes" among her feathered 
family, beside having a pet lamb mangled and 
torn by the ferocious dog of the 0' Gorman 
boys. But Peggy's trials were the sorest, 
while she had the least strength to endure 
them. Her careless neighbor across the way 
was constantly accusing the innocent creature 
of trying to outsiiine her in the neatness of her 
person and in the order of her household, — a 
t''iug easily done by any one. The neglected 
little ones, catcfiing the spirit of their mother, 
felt at liberty to annoy her also. The big boj ii 
stoned her ducks, stole her Christmas turkeys, 
and turned their half-famished pigs into her 
cherished cabbage garden. But, according to 
her first resolution, she returned good for evil, 
and, with the sympathy of Mammy Honey, 



A NEW MISTRESS. 



W' 



I 



3glected Killy- 
t and his fine 

I. The family 
hardly worth 
ikoy Olio year 
ly Honey was 
her feathered 
mangled and 
lie 0' Gorman 
e the sorest, 
th to endure 
jross the way 
>cent creature 
eatness of her 
ousehold, — a 
riio neglected 
their mother, 
The big boj a 
tmas turkeys, 
pigs into her 
, according to 
good for evil, 
mmy Honey, 



bore their insults with meekness and patience. 
Once, sorely annoyed, she shed tears, when 
I that old piiilosopher said, in soothing tones, 
"It's yer ould mammy that knows, mavour- 
necn, how hard all this is to the flesh, for she's 
gone through it for nigh half a cent'ry with 
the O'Gormans in the grave and them alive ; 
and I can say this for my promise-keepin' 
God, that so has He helped me through all 
these years that I never gave them back au 
angry word, or laid up one ha' pcth o' re- 
viiige agin them, but always pitied them. And 
so I did, dear, till the pity turned to love, and 
in tlie end brought back love again. For 
wlicn the ould mother o' this man come down 
to death, it was I alone must smooth her pil- 
j low and mix her drink, and I — Protestant 
tliougli I was — must close her eyes in death. 
I She remembered how patient I had borne with 
! her, and this was all the way she had o' asking 
I my forgiveness. And if she had not it would 
ha' been all the same, for God never forgets, 
jewel! Patience with them will bring heaps 
I of heaven's gold into yer own heart, and ye'U 



'9 



t 




28 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



• find tliat even them is helpin' ye on in the road 
to glory, by-aiid-by." 

And under such wise instructions Peggy 
took up the cross which the old saint was 
about laying down, and moved meekly on. 

Now the cruel neighbor had one cause of 
boasting of wliich poor Peggy was very sensi- 
tive. She had, in her own words, " nine as 
bulky childer as ye could find ony day at 
Blarney Fair." Peggy had none, and John 
was fond of children even to a weakness. But 
the pure-hearted creature was resolved to turn 
even this bitter cup to one of sweetness, by her 
submission to God's will, and her tenderness 
towards all little children. So, when he:' ca.o- 
less neighbor was away from home, she would 
call in two or three of the youngest of the 
flock, and after treating them to clean faces, 
would feed them with her sweet bread and 
milk, and keep them till John's return from 
the field, knowing how fond he was of chil- 
dren's prattle. 

Once when " the masthor " expressed pleas- 
ure at their frolicsome ways, she said, "I'll 



SSSnummmmim 



JO. 

ou ill the road 

tructions Peggy 

1 old saint was 
meekly on. 

i one cause of 
was very sensi- 
rords, "nine as 
ind ony day at 
none, and John 
weakness. But 
resolved to turn 
iveetness, by her 

her tenderness 
, when he:' cato- 
lomo, she would 
jroungest of the 

to clean faces, 
nreet bread and 
ii's return from 
he was of chil- 



A y^EW MISTRESS. 



29 



bring them over ony day, dear, to play with 
yp, iHit neither yer mother nor myself Is plazed 
to have ye cross the street after them, nor yet 
to chat with their father as ye have o' late ; " 
f.)r she liad noticed that for the last few weeks 
O'Gorman had frequently called to him to 
cou»e over and hear a letter from Jim, in 
" Amciiky," or to smoke a pipe with him. 
Tiiis was an unwonted civility which John 
had not power to refuse — indeed, he had 
not power to refuse anything to anybody, 
lie had been held in by his stern father and 
his resolute mother from going among evil 
con)panions, but he had never yet learned to 
say "no" in his own name. And no man, 
however old he may be, is safe till he can do 
that. 



1 



expressed pleas- 
she said, " I'll 



/-^ 



t 




CHAPTER III. 



MAMMY HONET. 

AD ARK day comos sooner or later to every 
dwelling. If no other shadow falls across 
its sunshine, death's surely will, and sad in- 
deed is the home over which his wing broods. 

Mammy Honey was now ncaring the end 
of her fourscore years. Her labors had been 
one by one relinquished; her dairy was no 
longer inspected daily, the music of her flax- 
wheel had ceased, and lastly, the bright knit- 
ting-needles had been passed through the gray 
ball and laid away forever. But still her heart 
was fresh and warm, and ther^^fore she had 
not outlived her usefulness ; there were yet 
some little acts of love which she could per- 
form for her children. 

But one night — a night never to bo forgot- 
ten at Daisy Farm — she was prostrated by a 

M 



•as 



MAMMY nONET. 



81 



or later to every 
;dow falls across 
ill, and sad iii- 
3 wing broods, 
jaring the end 
abors bad been 
' dairy was no 
sic of lier flax- 
;be brigbt knit- 
irougli tlie gray 
t still ber bcart 
rv^fore sbe bad 
tbero were yet 
sbo could per- 

Br to bo forgot- 
prostrated by a 



siuliieii palsy, and became tbenceforth like a 
Jiolpk'ss cbild in tbc care of Peggy. 

" It's a life's load ye'a got now," cried out 
licr iiurd-hearted neigbbor to Peggy, tbc morn- 
ing aftor tliis calamity. " Tiio Slicebans will 
get good pay out of ye now, for all tbe fine liv- 
ing yo've bad tiiere tbcso last years! Ocb, 
but she'll bo a burden ! " 

" 0, no, don't say tbat, neigbbor," replied 
Peggy. "It's such a burden as I pray God 
to lot me carry to tbo end o' ray days. If 
He'll only spare ber to me, I'll bo tbo tbank- 
fulest cbild Ho bas in all tbc wide world, and 
never weary o' ber day or nigbt — tbe darlin'." 
" Ye know well tbat this is a widow's curse 
that has fallen on tbe ould body, o' course ? " 
j asked Biddy O'Gorman. 

" A curse fallen on ber blissed bead ? It 
I can never be ! " replied Peggy, turning pale. 

"Yis that same," repeated Mrs. Biddy. 

["It was this way: When Jobn and my bus- 

I band were b'ys, there cam' along ould Bet Mig- 

honl teilin' fortun's, and as yer kitchen was 

the iiugest in Killyrooko, sbe asked might tiio 



4. 



30 



8S 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



crowds como to lier there. And Maminy 
Slicohaii said, ' No deeds o' darkness shall 
ho done benath the roof through which prayer 
lias risen night and morn for more nor a cen- 
tury.' Tiicn Bet was sore angered, and stand- 
ing in the road just fornint the door, she 
pulled off her cap and let her gray locks fly to 
tlio winds, while she prayed that Mammy 
Sheclian might, afore she died, lose the 
power to ask a drink o' water, and that no 
child might ever after be horn in that cottage 
again — and so there hav'n't — and worse 
nor all, that her heart might be broken by 
the child she had that time, — that's John." 

" What, not my darlin' John ? " cried 
Peggy, leaning against the donkey-post for 
support. 

" Yis, that same," replied Biddy, . " and 
then she prayed, too, that the son o' them 
who did resave her in — that's ray husband — 
niigiit have as many childor as there war 
moons in the year, and thim all grow to bo 
lords and ladies ! " and the cnicl woman held 
up her rosy infant before Peggy, and then 



€~ 



% 



And Mammy 
jarkiicss iiliall 
I which prayer 
are nor a cen- 
cd, and stand- 
tho door, sho 
ray locks fly to 

that Mammy 
led, lose tho 
, and that no 
'.n that cottage 
; — and worse 

be broken by 
lat's John." 
ohn ? " cried 
oukoy-post for 

Biddy, . " and 
son o' them 
nay husband — 
as there war 
ill grow to be 
cl woman held 
rjrv, and theu 



MAMMY HONEY. 8t 

prcMSud it to her breast, casting, as she did 
so, a look of trinmpli at tlie terrified listener. 

" Tlic curse about no more childer in the 
cuttugo has come true, then ; and now the 
palsy will forbid the ould body to ask water, 
and the other one about John, — well, well, 
there's no tcUin' what a man will come to, 
till he's safe in his grave ! " added she. 

"0, Biddy, ye scare the life out o' me," 
cried Peggy, and then she rushed, pale and 
breathless, towards the cottage. The rasping 
tones of Biddy's voice had pierced tho little 
room where Mammy Honey lay in her weak- 
ness, and she cried, as Peggy entered, " Come 
hero, flower o' my heart ! Surely, yor fear o' 
a sinful woman is not greater nor your trust 
in God ! His blissing rested on this cottage 
long years after I smoothed tho dying pillow 
o' poor Bet in the workhouse, and will yet 
rest here if ye 'bide in His love. The lack o' 
cliilder is sometimes the lack o' sorrow, and 
God knows best where to sind them. Theu, 
the last evil word she spoke — about my John 
— 0, Peggy, if he goes asthray when I'm no 



,.« 




H 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



longer here to hould him in, it'll bo because o' 
the evil in his heart, and not for her curse; 
for she knew no more o' the futur' nor ye do. 
He's powerful o' body, but he's wake o' will, 
Peggy, and he's fearful forgetful o' his Maker. 
Watch him, and pray for him, dear, when 
I'm at rest. I've, laid down that burden now, 
and though his feet may slide sometimes, I 
know ho will be brought in at tho last." 

Harvest was drawing on, and John Shcehau 
had his reapers all engaged ; and an uncouth 
and famished-looking set they wore, gathered 
from the road where they were begging for 
work, as starving men beg for broad. 

John was full of business, and of joy, too ; 
for the harvest was very heavy and tho >ycath- 
er fine. " Pcggj', dear," he said, " one pair o' 
hands can never fade this host o' men, and 
tind on the dairy, and wait on tho Mammy 
Honey. Now, dear, let us call in a nurse to 
mind her, or ye'll destroy yerself before this 
hard season is over." 

Mamuiy Honey heard this from her little inner 
room. Her will was as strong as ever, and so 



■II r I ■liiiira^ltiiiilMII<Wllt 



■« 



bo because o' 

for her curse ; 

ur' nor ye do. 

i wake o' will, 

o' his Maker. 

1, dear, wheu 

burden now, 

sometimes, I 

lio last." 

John Shcehau 

d an uncouth 

were, gathered 

•e begging for 

'ead. 

id of joy, too ; 
md the >7eath- 
J, " one pair o' 
t o' men, and 
ti the Mammy 
in a nurse to 
self before this 



1 her little inner 
as ever, and so 



MAJLVr HONEY. 



U 




was his obedience to it. " No, John," s'.ie 
cried, " ye can niver tako away the child God 
sont me in my old ago, to fade your men. 
Yc can call in somebody to do your rough 
work, and pay lier for it ; but I can not buy 
siicli love and tiuderncas as Peggy's with 
gold ; and the life would just go out o' mo 
if I lost the sight o' her dear eyes. 'Bide 
by your poor failin' mother, Feggy, dear," she 
cried imploringly. 

" So I will, darlin'," replied the gentle Peg- 
gy, " though the rapors should starve for it. 
Better the mildew fall on the grain than ye bo 
neglected that has been every other body's 
sarvaut in sickness. And more nor that, it's 
a small while only that I'll have ye, and I 
grudges every hour that Pm losin' o' yer com- 
puiiy. It's not an hour agono since yon bright 
Niu\ O'Gorman sprang over the stile, begging 
would I suffer har to come in and hilp rao 
tlirough till harvest. She says it's a sorry 
lifo she lades at homo, betwano the abuse o' 
her mother and the throublo o' the childor. 
She's a fair, pTeasant-voiced cretur, and it's a 






I 



r^ 



86 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



pity no ono takes lior by tlio hand to save her. 
I'd a mind to ax ye might I bid her in to the 
kitchen for ton days ; but then the thought o' 
her mother, and the fearful scavin' she gave 
me about yon beggar's curse come over me, 
and I hadn't power to be spakin' their name." 

" No, no, my jewel, that will never do ! " re- 
plied Mammy Honey. " There's evil blood 
ill the veins o' the whole race. Tiiey tri- 
umphed over mo when tlie hand o' tlio Lord 
touched me. The sua could not shine on the 
harvest if the reapers as gathered it war fed 
by an O'Gorman, nor " 

Hero Mammy Honey stopped suddenly, and 
throwing up her hands as if "tartlird by I. or 
own words, cried, •• Alas, alas, chil<.ler ! what am 
I saying ? 1b thi? the spirit o' Him that spint 
His last breath prayin' for his inomios ? Is 
this all the mootness I have for liio homo I'm 
roachirs' after, and whoso (ioors is just opening 
to let me in ? Ts thero more hatred and rcvinge 
jumy heart, now that I stand on ^J.c brink o' 
Jor>]aa and soo the promi;ied l\ , iSm when 
I was far hv<ik in the highways o' h'o ? Have 



limkJX'W!:- 



€- 



MAMMY HONET. 



to save her. 
er iu to the 
) thought o' 
i' she gave 
10 over me, 
eir name." 
or do!" re- 
evil blood 
They tri- 
o' the Lord 
ihino on the 
1 it war fed 

iiddenly, and 
rthrd by l.or 
er ! what am 
m tiiat spint 
inemios ? Is 
iio home I'm 
just opeuhig 
I and revingo 
Hl.o brink o' 
<], i^m when 
' Ufo ? Have 



I no hungcrin' after their salvation, and no 
loiij^in' to uicot tlicm where foem cannot meet? 
Woe's mo ! Now can I cry our in spirit, ' Who 
sliiill deliver me from tiie body o' tills death ? * 
I thought I was done with sin ; but oh, the 
evil one holds on to God's own with a pow- 
erful grasp ! He'd triumph now could he but 
bring down me that he's had so many battles 
with ; but he'll niver do it, for Him that has 
redeemed mo has said, ' None shall pluck them 
out of my hands.' I'll show Sa(,iia that 
though llosh and heart is failin,' I'm yet able 
to wirhstand him, and to war agin the flebh 
too. John, go across the street and bid iu 
that poor uncared for girl ; r.ud who know^s 
but God will ' low Peggy to liape coals o' firo 
on their heads by making her a thrifty, mod- 
est and honest woman ? She war a pretty 
buby — Nan — and a fair-faced child, till the 
brazen look o' the mother crept into her eyes. 
And now go awhile to your work, dears, and 
lot mo be alone with God." *! •« 

The next day, the brigiit, careless Nan was 
installed iu Peggy's kitchen ; and although 



^1 






3, OBMS or mB BOO. 

*„ foil far Moy, H.e good woman's .tanaard 
:;„oa.»c..a„dn.oaos.,,B.,os„rpri,=a.,orby 

,,„r quickuOBS and her roadinoss to loavn. 

ptgy. hoart was f«U of o.c«»oa for Ho 
„„tratcdd»ld,.,ow.l™o,tawo,oaua„d»Uo 

Ickod»itUrcalkn>d„o.,aUgn.ml.W--d 

oIs«dtl,a.ho..a,od"mtUmo^uudm»- 

Latrod ovory O'Oorraan, doad.l.v,..' or ,ot 

::J < patroLingV ad„.Utod «,at aUo wa, 

I , a t vicious of ti>o na,no. After aw d , 

1 „mn«od bv her wild, ^m^\^i\f 
Jolm socmcd amusca uy n 
,vays aud even Mammy Honoy asked for Uttlo 
It 'tions at her hand, and addressed her 
^;:;;y,as,"Nanny,mycUUd;;a^^^^^^^ 
ified by Peggy's forbearance with her. 



m. 






liiliitiiiirr^' 



$ 



U' 



standard 
od her by 

iin. 

08 for the 
a, and she 
abling and 
nnon, who 
t unclirist- 
ivin' or yet 
at she was 
I'tcr awhile, 
d, sprightly 
cd for little 
Irossod her 
id was grat- 
ler. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PADDY MANNON. 

THE harvest was gathered in, or " stacked,** 
and immense heaps of peat in the yard pro- 
mised light and warmth for the coming winter. 
The heavy work of the farm being over, Paddy 
Mannon was at \Umty to attend " fairs " and 
races, and to multo his annual visit to his 
wife, " a most ondnstrious young woman, who 
provided for herself and cliild intirely by 
begging, and never bothered him at all no 
more nor if he war a young b'y without ft 
wife." ' 

Meg Mannon's home was a dilapidated hut 
on the roadside, many miles from Killyrooke. 
She had a field of operation too productive to 
leave even for a husband. Mammy Honey had 
otforod her work when she was first married, 
but sUe declined it, saying, " I was brought up 



40 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



a beggar, misthress, and I understand my oon 
business better tban another one's. ♦ Let tbo 
Bbocmaker stick to bis last.' I'll j"8t bide 
where I am, and visit Paddy at whiles o' 
leisure." . • ; - •, 

•Meg's home- was not as good as a thrifty far- 
mcr'8°cow-house. A woolen coverlet, the gift 
of Mammy Honey, supplied the missing door. 
A barrel, sawn asunder, served for chairs, and 
a whole one, with a rough board across it, for 
a table. A sack, filled with straw and covered 
with plenty of warm blankets, composed a bed 
seldom visited by care for the morrow. The 
walls, t)irough which the light peeped, were 
ornamented by pictures ; one of the Virgin and 
Holy Child, another representing the benevo- 
lent St. Patrick banishing serpents from 
Ireland, and a third, portraying a fat monk, 
bareheaded and barefooted, beating, most un- 
mercifully, some half-dozen sinners, whof race 

and sex must remain forever a mystery. - 

Meg Mannou was a fine specimen of a 
prosperous 1 rish beggar, and was, on the whole, 
a proud and happy woman, having nothing 



<c- 



PADDY MANNOHf. 



41 



nd my oon 

*Let the 

I just bido 

; whiles o' 

, thrifty far- 
rlet, the gift 
lissing door. 

chairs, and 
icross it, for 

and covered 
mposed a bed 
lorrow. The 
peeped, were 
10 Virgin and 
; the benovo- 
erpents from 
; a fat monk, 
ting, most un- 
rs, whof race 
(lystery. 
pocimeu of a 
I, on tlie whole, 
laviug nothing 



to do but to walk from parish to parish, fol« 
lowed by little Pat, and receive the gifts of 
those who " owed her a livhig." She carried 
hur treasures all with her, and so had no keys 
to turn and no robbers to fear. To add to her 
happiness, Peggy always sent her a little sup- 
ply of luxuries by Paddy, and Mammy Honey 
never forgot warm stockings for her boy. 
Paddy presented her with a bright calico gown 
once a year, and took her, arrayed in it, to a 
" fair." Meg never felt any degradation from 
her business, but on the contrary was proud and 
boastful, saying that she was young and strong, 
and coula walk on a wager with any woman in 
Ireland, and had " the lovingest husband and 
the rosiest child " in it ; and then asked, ** Is 
it any wonder that Pm a contiut and happy 
woman ? " 

Two or three times a year, her business 
arrangements brought her to Killyrooke, 
whither, as tlie way was long, she bore little 
Pat on ner back. At these times she was 
allowed to "keep house" for a week in an 
old cow-shed of " Masther Sheehan," on coa- 






iiildiiMikttM 



42 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



dition that no fire was lighted and no pipe 
smoked within five rods of it. And with such 
a life Meg was satisfied, and looked no more 
into tlie realities of the future than if she had 
not been an immortal being. She paid her fees 
to tlie church, went to mass wheu she had any 
thing new to exhibit, and confessed her sins 
once a year to secure a christian burial. After 
that she was easy, throwing all responsibility 
on the priest. Nor was Meg alone in this; 
with the same stupidity does Rome curse all 
her lowly children. She blindfolds them, that 
they do not see the light ; and those of a ptirer 
faith look on and cry, "The bandages can 
never be removed from their eyes." But few, 
alas, take hold with vigorous hand to tr what 
can be done. While, however, the mass of the 
people in that corrupt church are at ease in 
their bonds, there are some there struggling 
in their fetters, and reaching out for the light 

of life. 

Paddy and Meg had one only ambition unful- 
filled — it was to go to America, where they 
fancied boggars laid up fortunes and lived in 



w*i.«0>iia 



jite'Tii / ^'' ■'•■'"■■* —-«>.. 



f-. 



PADDY MANNON. 



m 



and no pipe 
id with such 
cd no more 
,11 if she had 
paid her fees 
she had any 
icd her sins 
mrial. After 
responsibility 
lone in this; 
»me curse all 
da them, that 
aso of a purer 
bandages can 
s." But few, 
id to tr what 
lie mass of the 
are at ease in 
ere struggling 
it for the light 

irabition unful- 
;a, where they 
ss and lived in 



fine stone houses. They wore always planning 
a fund to pay their passage. Tlie first farthing, 
however, had never been laid aside for it, 
although Paddy talked of the " passage-money " 
as if it were all ready in the bank, waiting to 
be called for. He enjoyed the dream of future 
grandeur more than most men do the reality ; 
and neither toil, poverty, nor yet separation 
from those he loved, had power to dim the sun- 
shine in his light heart. He had as little care 
for the morrow as the birds of the air or the 
lilies of the field. But this was not the rcsiilt 
of faith ; for, after all the labor dear Mammy 
Honey had expended on him from childhood 
up, Bhe was forced to confess at last that " poor, 
foolish Paddy lived like the beast o' the field, 
forgetting that there was a God above him." 

When this saint-like old woman lay on her 
bed and felt that her work for souls was nearly 
done, she called Paddy to her and recounted 
the mercies of God to him during the long 
years he had dwelt under her roof, begging 
him to be wise and repent while it was called 
to-day, lost he should be cut ofiT in his sins. 



MtMHi 



Mial* 



44 OEMS OF THE BOG. 

«* Whist, noo, misthrcss dear," lio replied; 
»♦ it will do for yc, wlioso time is ycr own, to be 
rcadin' and prayiu' l.Mf ycr daylight. The 
likes o' me has to do it all up of a Sunday. 
When I puts on a clano shiit and shaves me, 
then I says my prayers as well as the best o' 
thim Noo, dear, there's scores o' boys about 
here that tells their beads twice a day, and yet 
them same will swc ar, and drink, and steal, 
and lio. And ycisilf knows that poor Paddy, 
that prays only of a S.uiday, is as sober, and 
honest, and loving as the daylight abooveus. 
Noo what better would I bo if I was confissn.g 
to the priest and muttorin' over the beads half 

my time ? " 

« Paddy, Paddy, my poor lad ! it's not con- 
fessing to man, nor yet counting yer beads that 
will save yer soul. What will ye do when 

death comes ? " 

"Och, dear heart, fAm Pll pray as fast as 
any o' thitr ! I always dae» whin Pm ia 
trouble. Don't ye mind the night my ould 
granny died at the workhouse, how I prayed? 
I had the beads in my hand all night, and if 



I 



*- 



PADDY ilANNOW. 



4fi 



ho replied; 
cr own, to be 
lylight. The 
}f a Sunday, 
d shaves me, 
18 the best o' 

o' boys about 
k day, and yet 
ik, and steal, 
t poor Paddy, 

as sober, and 
ight abooveus. 
was confissing 

the beads half 

! it's not con- 
' yer beads that 
ill ye do when 

pray as fast as 

>i whin I'm in 

night my ould 

I, how I prayed? 

all night, and if 



I'd bo to fall asleep for a minute, sure I'd 
Bprin",' up and go at it agaiu, fear her ghost 
wouM ooine to mo I " 

Munuuy Uonoy groaned. " Oli, Paddy, it's 
iiigii quartcs* a ceut'ry since I took yo in hand, 
and tliis is all I've accomplished for ye ! Sure 
I'm aithcr a blind lader o' the blind, or a 
most unprofitablo sarvant ! " 

" Och, no, Misthrcss Honey, ye're nather o* 
them ; the fault o' ray not hcediu' yer religica 
is on the head o' his rirorence, for he watches 
mc as the cat watches the mouse, and tells me 
if I'm a * turn-coat,' that the ghosts o' all my 
Catholic anchesfcers will como down upon me 
niid tear me to piepes, and I'll lose my soul 
then — sure ! " 

" t'addy, my poor man," replied his mis- 
tress, "yo are fast in the net o' Satan, and 
how can I die and leave yo there ? " 

" Don't tell mo that; I'll be 'feared to go to 
my bed alono for a month ; for I'm e'en more 
scared o' yon Satan, nor o' the ghosts th:m- 
selves ! But keep yo aisy, dear heart, for I've 



411 GEMS OF THE bOO. 

no doubt I'll get into hcave.i some tvay. Kins 
riverencoischatingmcrilbolotinforyer 

sake Yc've done good enough to get yer- 
silf and Ma.lher John, and mesilf all safo 
through; and as for the young mistiness - 
there could be no excuse for keeping her out 
at all, at all; for she's as hooly now as any lu 

'''such were the low ideas Paddy entertained 
of heaven and the way of life, after all the 
efforts which had been made to enlighten las 
darkness. Nor was his a solitary case; he 
was surrounded by men and women who lived 
as they listed, a,.d who trusted for eternal hap- 
piness to their good works-a poor array 
L,andinthe.-.orsoftho saints and he 

Virgin, while they were as ignorant of the plan 
of salvation as are the far-off heathen 

"Oh Paddy," said his mistress, "I could 
lay down my life for' the salvatio.i o' poor 
blind Killyrooke, includin' John and yers.lf! 
But that wouldn't save ye. Ye must repent o 
yer Bias and believe iu the Lord Jesus for yor- 




PADDY MANNON. 



47 



ivay. K Ins 
ot in for yer 
to get yer- 
silf all safo 
inisthiess — 
sping lior out 
low as any in 

y entertained 
after all the 
enlighten hia 
ary case ; he 
acn who lived 
)r eternal hap- 
- a poor array 
laints and the 
ant of the plan 
icathcn. 
ress, " I could 
iratiou o' poor, 
»n and yorsilf. 
must repent o' 
i Jesus for yor* 



selves. I can no more do it for you than the 
priest, for I'm a poor sinner, like himself and 
ye." 

"Well, dear," replied Paddy, a little 
piqued; " as to bein' such a. fearful sinner — 
ivory one must spake for hisself — and I'm 
just sure Fm not quite evil yet. Lookin' at 
mysilf beside the other boys, I'm a raal da- 
ccut-bchaved lad, and dosarve as respictablo a 
funeral as ony o' thim — yis, and respictablor 
too ! " This last sentence was uttered with 
some sharpness, as if his funeral arrangements 
were being then made, and did not meet his 
approbation. But suddenly remembering that 
in this one item of c.vpondituro, if in no other, 
he was independent of his master, he added, 
with a smart toss of the head, " I desarves a 
fine wake and a funeral, and I'll get them too ; 
fur Meg and me has made a promish together, 
that whichever of the twos dies first shall be 
buried fine, if it takes the livin' one the rest o' 
her days to pay for it ! Then ye think, mis- 
thress, that not a Catholic body will be let in 



i 



:j! 



i 



48 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 

to heaven at ail ?" be added, returning to the 

first subject. , „ •' t he- 

u No, Paddy, I think no such thuig. I be 
lavo if ever my eyes see 'the King mH.s 

beauty,' I sbuU see beside him poor Demm 
Burke, who bore his sufferings so patient, and 

blissed God in the furnace, and d.ed w.th the 
1.0 0' Jesus on hi. lips. In a dar place 
Dennis had spied a great light, a u made after 

U, and walked in it. But the cloud was bo 
tbick about him he did not see how to g t 
clear out o' the Romish church on earth. 
But he's all right now, where the name o a 
church is o' no avail, but where Jesus has 
,aved all who trusted in Him, from the errors 

and blindness of arth. And more ban ould 
Dennis is safe in Christ, while hav^n' a name 

in yor church. There's good Mammy Crogm 

e ,«« liat fall ; the two o' us had 
that spun for mo last tail , , , 

iast a little heaven together a talkin o the 
ove 0' God, and a wishin new days for poor 

L-eland. And some o' the hoHest of men Uved 

aud died in the Catholic church." 



i... 



PADDY MANN ON. 



49 



rning to the 

tiling. I be- 
King i» His 
poor Dennis 
, patient, and 
died with the 
a dark place 
id made after 
cloud was so 
00 how to got 
rch on earth, 
the namo o' a 
iiore Jesus has 
'rom the errors 
more than ould 
havin' a name 
Mammy Crogin, 
w two o' us had 
a talkin' o' the 
«? days for poor 
lest of mea lived 
!h." 



"Och, then, sure Fm safe in it!" cried 
Paddy, quite relieved to find his mistress had 
sympathy with any of his faith. 

" Oil, uo, for ye are not like them ones, 
Paddy. They saw the errors of Rome, though 
tlioy saw not the way of deliverance from her, 
but came themselves into the gospel road, the 
only one that can lade us to God. Even the 
pope hasn't power to bar the way from his 
children, if they seek it with a true heart. But 
go now to yer work, lad. I can only pray for 
ye and yer masther, as I have iver done, that 
ye may bo drawn by an iverlasting love ; for 
yo will never como o' yerselves ; John is too 
wise in his own eyes to take a guide, and ye 
are too ignorant to know yer need o* one ! 
Heaven help yo both, poor lads ! " . 

This old saint seemed one born out of place 
and out of season ; one who, had she been 
placed with hands unfettered, whore she had 
helpers, would have done a mighty work 
among the lowly. She was a Bible saint, hav- 
ing as her only other books, Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress, Boston's Fourfold State, and Baxter's 



tdSH Juii tt m mniik - 



50 OEMS OF THE BOO. 

Sainis' Rest. She had none of tlio appManccs 
of our day a.id our land, wUerewith to bring 
the truth before men. No books, no tracts, no 
prayer-raeetuigs ; but, for all this, she kept tho 
enemy at bay in her own hamlet, and foiled 
bis efforts many a time at Cloynmally. 



*«•■ 




appMaiiccs 
h to bring 
[) tracts, no 
lio kept tho 
, and foiled 
lly. 



i ,> 




.■>S,fiU??'J.v., 



: ,>:.?«*: 



•■^■'r'r'"'-f' :!r';:i:^f^'' 



CHAPTER V. - 

A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 

WHEN the autumn winds brought the sere 
leaves from the branches, the strong 
staff and tho beautiful rod on which tho honor 
of tho Sheehans had leaned so long was bro- 
ken. Tho setting of Mammy Honey's sun was 
nmrked by a brilliancy and beauty surpassing 
even that of her pure and glowing overy-day 
life. Tlje peace of heaven shone through her 
clear eyes, and her brow, long deeply lined, 
grew smooth and fair like that of a child, 
llcr blanched locks fell from beneath the 
broad frill of her cap in waves of silver, as 
she sat pillowed in her rudo easy chair before 
tlio little glass window. Her soul had seemed 
for days floating on a sea of peace. No fear 
of death, no desire for life cast a sliadow over 

SI 



*-•■ 



0t 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



her joy. Her voice, long unstrung, had re- 
gained its old melody, and she cheered hor 
heart with hymns and snatches of the Psalins as 
paraphrased for the Scottish church. Her chil- 
dren, while they moved about their toil, heard 
her singing, as she iieared the cold river, — 



•• The hour of my departure's come, 
I hear the voice that calls me home 5 
And now, Lord, let sorrow cease. 
And let Thy servant die in peace ! " 



\i 



Yet if the Holy One felt the tempter's power 
in His mortal conflict, is it strange that some 
of His followers arc forced to cry with Him, 
«»This is the hour and the power of dark- 
ness"? Is it not enough that the disciple 
be as his Master ; that the same thorns pierce 
his feet ; that the same spear wound his heart ; 
and that the same vinegar, mingled with gall, 
bo put to his lips ? Blessed bo fellowship with 
Jesus, oven though it bo the fellowship of 

Buffering! 

Need wo, then, wonder that a transient cloud 
shadowed the peace of this blessed old saint 1 



ill 



ig, had re- 
lieercd l»or 
e Psalins as 
. Her cliil- 
■ toil, heard 
Id river, — 



e ; 



ptor's power 
that some 
y with Him, 
rcr of dark- 
the disciple 
horns pierce 
id his heart ; 
3d with gall, 
ilowship with 
ellowship of 

ansient cloud 
id old saiut ? 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 63 

It disturbed her vision of her children's 
future and her hopes of Ireland, leaving her 
own prospects still glorious. Wliat true 
motlier can bo satisfied with heaven for her- 
self alone ? Mammy Honey was going to her 
Fatlier's kingdom ; but she wanted Jolin, and 
Paddy, and all Ireland, and indeed, the whole 
world, to follow her there. For Peggy she 
had no fears, as she said, " Heaven would not 
be complate without her." 

" Mavourneen," she called to Peggy, on 
the last day of her life, " come now and let 
me lane my head on yer lovin' bussum. Call 
Johjj, too, darlin', for this is tlie wakeness o' 
failin' natur' ! I'm just now puttin' foot into 
the cold waters, but I see the horses and the 
chariots waitin' me beyond ; so I know that I 
sliall sup ere break o' day with Him I'm sick 
o' heart to see ! True, the arrow is in my 
breast ; but like Christiana's token, it is pintod 
with love. I hears the bells beginnin' to ring 
in heaven, rejoicin' over another poor sinner 
come oiT conqueror through grace. But I've 
a partin' word on the bank of Jordan for ye 



1 



1 



04 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



twos — my dailins'. I would be to warn yc 
that the diviVa not dead, but still goes roariu' 
about ; and if ivcr lie strives to damage yo, 
it'll bo by putting a space between yer two 
hearts ! I've no fears o' yo' Peggy, my jewel, 
for ye have even now the meek and lowly 
sperit o' the lovin' Master. But Oh, John, 
John ! ye are all taken up with the grain, 
and the peat, and the pratecs, and the dedr 
bastes, and the powltry ! I'm afeared ye'U let 
the very mercies o' God lade ye astray from 
Him till ye lose yer soul! Peggy, love, 
watch him every hour and keep a fast hould 
on him, and bring him safe to mo at last! 
Til expect that o' ye, darUrC. And now I'd bo 
to give my partin' orders. I had a vision, 
dears, days agone, that drank up my sperit 
with anguish ; and I must tell it ye afore tho 
trumpet sounds for me, that I may put yo on 
yer guard." 

" No evil can come on this house while the 
thatch hangs to the rufT, Mammy," sobbed 
Peggy ; " there's been that many prayers sent 
to Heaven from it ! " • ». ■ v 



C 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY PARM. 



55 



;o warn yc 
)es roariu* 
I am age yo, 
!u yer two 
, my jewel, 

and lowly 
; Oil, John, 

the grain, 
id the dedr 
ed ye'll let 
astray from 
'eggy, love, 
I fast lionld 
mo at last! 

now I'd bo 
id a vision, 
p my sporit 
<fQ afore the 
ly put yo on 

ise while the 
my," sobbed 
prayers sent 



" Peggy, the righteousness of the father will 
niver avail for the son ! John must make no 
trust in that, or he will lose his soul. I fear, 
I fear he is dead while he has a name to live ! 
But now ahoot yon vision : I had the wakeness 
in mo. head for a bit, and then I saw crawlin' 
slowly over the floor o' the kitchen a sarpint ! 
Betimes it sprung up and thrust its pizen tooth 
into Peggy's heart o' love! And worse nor 
all, John, I thought ye looked on and niver 
lifted a hand to give ifc a blow. Then it 
turned to go, and I saw it had a human face, — 
shall I tell ye ? — the face o' the O'Gorman 
gerl ! Me heart died within me, and I hadn't 
the power left in mo to scream out to ye. 
But I tiiought Paddy Mannon — poor, foolish, 
lovin' Paddy — struck it a blow with his huge 
fist and killed it entirely." , .. I 

" It war only a drame, darlin,' and no vision 
at all," cried Peggy, trembling and turning 
pale. "John's all love and full o' care o' 
me!" 

" Do ye think," said John, " that yer son 
would ivcr stand by and see the light o' his 



:;l 






4 



56 GEMS OF TEE BOG. • 

eyes touched by a sarpint or ony other onholy 

thing? Indadeno! There's nather mau nor 

thing in all Killyrooke would dare give her au 
oncivil word; for betwane Paddy and me. 

Wdsoou make an eend o' 1"«^'- Y*3ie 
throubled now, dear ; sthrive to rest a bit. 

u There's a long rest ju^f beyont for me 
John; Imustgivemylastbreathtoyeand 

Peg.y in counsel. Now promise me, ye son o 
af;o;iyman,thatye'llgonomoreacrossto 

the O'Gormans', as I've seen ye dom o lute. 
There's too much whisky and too many evd 
.ords there. Ye cannot walk into the fire 

Tvithout bein' burned, lad." 

«It's only the prattle o' the clnlder that 

takes me there at all, mammy," replied John . 
" Jt'8 SO lone and sUent here ! " ^ ' 

. And aren't silence better nor brawlm , 

,,anr' asked the mother. ""G^^^-^^"* 
no childer to comfort ye, thank mm He s sent 

none to break yer hearts. And^«;^ y^2 
,ordB,John; don't ye flyin the face oh 

Almighty, for if ye do ye'U be sorely baten 
t the contist. Send Nanny-Heaven pty 



.*iss«»aBa»«-' 




A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM 



67 



p onholy 
mau nor 
ve hor aa 
id mcsilf 
I Ye're 
I bit." 
t for mo, 
to yc and 
, yo BOii o' 

across to 
>iu' o' late. 

many evil 
to the firo 

liilder that 
)Ued John. 

)r bravrlin', 
od has sent 
m He's sent 
heed ye my 
I face o' tlie 
sorely baten 
Heaven pity 



tlie child — home when I'm gone, and live ? 
yersilvcs like two tartlc-doves till I see yo 
ajfain." 

For a little time Mammy Honey lay as if 
done with all below. Tlicn slje cried out. " Oh, 
that God would pity Ireland, — poor, swate 
Ireland, bound in ciiains and darkness! The 
men of God go to the far-off hathen, to the 
black man and the red man ; but who o' them 
all pities my people, ground under the heel o' 
the Man o' Sin ! How can I die and leave 
them thus ! " Then a smile passed over her 
pale face, and she whispered, " When the isles 
of the sea shall be converted unto Thee, the 
dearest and the greenest o' them all shall not be 
forgotten! Good night, jewels." And she 
was not, for God had taken her. > * * ..1,1. 

When the form of Mammy Honey was borne 
from the cottage to the little Presbyterian 
church in Cloynmally, all Killyrooke followed 
it. Many who had never entered a Protestant 
church before stole in there ; and such as 
dared not enter lest they might thereby lose 
their souls, stood without; wringing their 




.J 



<- 



58 



OEifS OF THE BOO. 



hands, and howling out lamentations for her 
who had " left a huge spot impty, and earned 
the heart o' KiUyrooko to the grave witii 

her!" 

When the coffin had been lowered into the 
grave, the pastor of the little Hock in Cloyn- 
mally seized this rare opportunity of explaui- 
ing to the poor people the way of salvation 
through Cluist alone. Ho spoke of the holy 
life by which their dead friend had honored 
her faitli among them, and through which she 
had now entered into rest. While ho was yet 
speaking, a simple youth from KiUyrooke, 
known there by no other name than « the poor 
fool" and who had a reputation for second 
sight, mounted the wall, and uttered a succes- 
sion of the most unearthly howls, till every 
eye was turned on him. "Oohoul! Oohoul! 
Oohoul! Bats, and owls and ravens; the air 
is full o' 'um! Tljis is the evil day for Daisy 
Farm and the Shechans! I seed a white 
dove perched on the coffin o' Mammy Honey, 
and it followed her here ; and it'll bide on her 
grave whin we's are gone boom ; and then .t U 



C- 



1 



for her 

carried 

ivc with 

into tlie 
u Cloy 11- 

explain- 
salvatioii 

the lioly 

honored 
which sho 
was yet 
illyrooke, 
' the poor 
or second 
. a siicces- 
till every 
Oolionl ! 
s; the air 

for Daisy 
i a white 
my Honey, 
bide on tier 
id then it'll 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 



59 



die on the turf above her, and never go back 
more to hover in peace over tlio cottage ! But 
owls, and bats and ravens will bide tiiero, and 
clap their wings and hoot, and croak through 
the long black night that '11 never be lifted off 
the place ! " 

Tlicn he clapped his hands and laughed 
loud and long, as he looked up to the heavens. 
" Och, ooh ! " he cried, " but this same is the 
blessed day for herself that fed the beggars, 
and knit warm stockiu's for mesilf these nine 
years agone ! She shuk off her heresy like 
a varmint with her last britlj, and bid John 
to tell o't. I sees her now passin' through the 
fires o' purgatory, the first Sheohan tliat ever 
got through since heaven war l)uilt. And 
now, look ! look ! she's let in among the hooly 
•the only Protestant body in the hape ! " 
The peojde stood as if turned to stone hj 
the ravings of the idiot, who was really more 
knave than fool. But John, whose pride was 
tonchod by this reflection on his family and his 
faitli, forgot the decorum incumbent on him as 
a mourner. He stepped out from among the 



60 GEMS OF THE BOO. 

people, and cried, " Hoot, there, poor crack- 
brain ' Go Lome and tell l.im that bid ye do 
this onchristian dado to broken hearts, that 
not a Sheehan ever lived on arth - mesdf ex- 
cepted-bnt's in heaven to day! and tell hiin 
that whiles I'm the rospictable man I am, na- 
ther owls, bats nor ravens shall get lave to 
bide above my boom, nor yet will ye ever be 
fed there again. Away with ye!" 

Poor Peggy, who could not endure an- 
cry words, foil fainting with exhaustion and 
fear. Kind won.cn gathered about her, say- 
ing "Well may she sink now, poor body. 
Her bist friend's in the grave. Did ever man's 
mother get love like this from his wife!" 

What hour in life so sad as the evcnmg after 
the funeral of one beloved? John arid Peggy 
,ot v^ the deep shadow of tho broad clay 
chimney-placo, where the peat was sinoking 
and smouldering, but neithor spoke. She was 
nursing her grief, he laying plans to punish 
the poor fool. At length Nan O'Gorman rose 
from the little casement where she had been 
Bitting with her chin resting on her chubby 



^^^^j,t-*8t' Jf!«i*«*^«^' ■■'^'^ 






A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 



61 



or crack" 
bid yo do 
aits, that 
mcsilf ex- 
i tell liiin 
I am, iia- 
3t lave to 
'6 ever be 

nduro an- 
ustion and 
t her, say- 
poor body! 

ever rnau's 
ife ! " 
fcning after 

and Peggy 

broad clay 
as smoking 
e. She was 
s to punish 
Jorman rose 
ihe had been 

her chubby 



hands, gazing at the passers-by. She fell 
Mpon her knees before the fire, and began 
blowing the peat to light it. A sudden gleam 
fell across her face, and Peggy cried out, 
" Quit blowijig, Nanny, for I cannot bear ony 
light on my eyes this night, when Mammy 
Honey is lying in the dark, cold grave. I be- 
lieve WY own heart lies with her, for I feel the 
damp and cold o' the grftve all aboot me ; " 
and she shuddered fearfully. 

"It's a huge cold ye've taken standin' so 
long on the fresh-tarned arth, dear," said 
John. Ho rose and took down a coarse frieze 
cloak from the peg on which it hung, and was 
wrapping it about her, when she cried, " O, 
John, that is her cloak ! How can ye touch it 
with thoughtless hands!" And burying her 
face in its folds, she kissed it again and again 
with floods of tears. « Who'll help me on to 
heaven now ? " she sobbed. 

" Don't be breakin' yer heart this way, jewel. 
Sure you've got me left," said John tenderly. 

Peggy made no reply, but with a deep groan, 
she closed her eyes, and laid her pallid cheek 






^ OEMS OF THE BOG. 

against the cold clay chimney, and claBp'u.g 
hcrtals, whispered, "0, God of Mammy 
Honey ! will Ye not pity her child ? " 

A heavy step was now heard on the door- 
stone, and a merry well-known voice cried out, 
» Safe hoom again and wilcome to ye, Paddy 
Mannonl and that gentleman, with a bundle 
on a stick over his shoulder, leaped in with a 
whoop and a comical grimace. Ho had just 
returned from his yearly visit to Meg, and was 
wholly ignorant of the great sorrow at the 
cottage, ne stepped on tip-toe to the nmer 
door, and peeped in, hoping to c eer Mammy 
Houcy with the sight of his honest face. All 
was quiet there, and i.i perfect order. Pac.ay 
turned round, and seeing Peggy's ever busy 
hands folded helplessly on her lap, the truth 
burst upon his mi.»d, and ho cried out, "It's 
surely not dead that she is ! " 

-Yis, yis, Paddy, dead and alone in the 
churchyard; and why didn't God let mo go 
with her- when the heart o' mo is dead too? 
cried Peggy, with a fresh burst of tears. 
Paddy dropped the stick and bundle, and fall- 




*n..i«ii**f*— ••"'•'"^ •* 



■^IPiiipiiiip 



jlaspnig 
Mammy 

\e door- 
•ied out, 
3, Paddy 
a bundle 
11 with a 
had just 

and was 
7 at the 
Lho iimer 

Mammy 
face. All 
•. Pa(?.dy 
ever busy 
the truth 
out, « It's 

ne ill the 
let mo go 
ead too ? " 
; of tears, 
lo, aud fall' 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 63 

ill-,' down botweon John and Peggy on his 
kiieos, covered his face with his great rough 
1 unds, and gave way also to a flood of tears. 
Soon ho broke out into a wild Irish wail, and 
chanted the praise of his lost mistress in a sort 
of rliyme, for whidi ho was very famous in the 
region, often being sent for to " iiowl out 
varses " over tlie dead whose relatives were no 
poets. , lie ran over her history and I»or vir- 
tues, from her childhood till tlie day she took 
possession of him, at tlie work-house. As a 
specimen of Paddy's poetical genius we will 
give the portion of the wail referring to him- 
self: — 

" And from the workhouse once she tuk 
Poor Paddy Mannon — that was luokl 
And rarcd him up a gplindid youth, 
Haped full o' vartue and o' truth ; 
Until he'd be to marry Mog, 
Who — rather far than work — would beg; 
She tachcd her how to spin and knit. 
But work she wouldn't, not a bit! 
Auil when that silver mornin' dawned 
On which my little Pat WM horned. 
She filled poor Paddy's heart with joy, 
By askin' God to bliss the boy. " 



64 OEMS OF THE BOG. 

He told ofher holy life, in Which She " fed 

bc-ars, sought after peaee, and loved her 
JLs better nor herself;'' and how wheu 

utUc old mosthor" was taken from her she 

u thanked God .till that Himself was left to 
1.0,; "he told how "She walked down quite 

contmt into the grave, satisfied that .hod find 
hlvenbeyont,"whieh, he added," she d.d, too 
and is there to-night." Eaeh sentence ended 
,ith a wild howl peculiar to himself, winch 
no one could imitate. 

This duty over, poor, thoughtless Paddy 
seated himself, and was soon doubly comtorted 

by a bowl of bread and milk, and by the 
announcement that Mammy Honey had bo- 
qncathed him the blue deal chest ecn.tau.mg 

the wardrobe of the deceased Daddy bheehan 
. och ' but I wish this same had happened 
aforelwint; Meg would ha' been that proud 

to go with me, dressed up in that h on s 

xnan's Sunday coat, to Blarney Fan-, he 

exclaimed. „.. 

uO Paddy, Paddy!" cried Peggy, mourn- 

fully, '"yo surety did not wish her sooner 



♦-• 



■■ 



A CLOUD OVER DAIST FARM. 



65 



she " fed 
oved her 
3W, wlieu 
i her she 
as left to 
3WU quite 
she'd find 
e did, too, 
3UC0 ended 
self, which 

ess Paddy 
r comforted 
md by the 
ey had bo- 
, containing 
dy Siicchan. 
id happened 
1 that provid 
that honest 
y Fair," ho 

•cggy, inouru- 
li her sooner 



gone ? Lave yor foolish talking now, and go 
10 bed like a good lad." 

" To bed in the loft is it, misthress dear ? " 
cried Paddy. " Sure there's not gold enough 
in all Ireland to timpt me up there alone. 
She'll ),o coming back oot o' her grave to 
watch do I say my prayers. 'Deed, I'll sit 
in this cliair till the marciful daylight comes, 
with the peat fire for protiction." Ho started 
suddenly, and turned towards the inner door, 
which, being on a crack, creaked on its hinges. 
" Och, but I think I saw hej' there now, 
shakin' Iior head at mo for the small drop o' 
whisky I drank witli Mike Troobrig on my 
way homo from the Fair. Pra that scared o' 
her that I'll niver touch another drop while 
tlio life's in mo! I've hoard often that dead 
people sees ivery thing a body does," and cast- 
ing another cautious glance at the door, he 
ciiod, *' Ilooly Mother Mary, protict me ! " 

" If tho blissod saint could come back and 
sit down i beside us, you surely would not 
bo nfearod o' her," said Peggy. " When she 
did only good on .this sinful arlli, she'd do 





«e 



QEMS OF THE BOG. 



no evil now that she's seen God a.id is like 
Him If I could but see tho shadow of her 
here, my poor sick heart would lape up for joy. 
Butril never, never see her more -unless, 
please God, I grow holy enough to go where 
she's siugin' to-night. But 0, John, how can 
she sing there if sl.e knows that her Peggy 8 
heart is breaking down here ? John, John 
will you strive to help me on and to seek God 

yersclf ? " 

"Ay will I, darlin', and ye'll see well get 
on well in tlio way. I'll set out anew, dear ; 
I'll give two pound ton — ' 

» Cease telling what ye'll do, and think on 
what's been done for ye, darlin'. Ye never 
did a thing in yer life that would help ye on to 
heaven. What is our poor righteousness, 
John,toreeommindustoGod? Let us not 
be like the Papists, to trust in our own 

deeds." , 

Paddy sat with his beads in his hand, and 

nodded in the chair by the fire all night, occa- 

Bionally calling out, » Are you there, Masther 

John 1 " and being assured that protection was 



is lilco 

of her 
, for joy. 
- unless, 
p where 
how can 

Peggy's 
n, John, 
seek God 

we'll get 
BW, dear ; 

think on 
Ye never 
p ye on to 
teousness, 
Let us not 
our own 

hand, and 
light, occa- 
•0, Masthor 
itection was 







1 




A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 


67 1 


at 


hand, he wonld doze again. After 


that 1 


Jol 


ni iiirod a neighbor's boy to sleep with him | 


" 


weeks in the loft. 






-'. ..-.. ■- y\/'. ,',i.>' -•i^:-,v ■■ - I'/ry y 'v:^'- " 


•t "t' 


1 






1 


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1 


' . - ■' : ■ .■:•' )vl- ,,-^.\-ii/^- '; 




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i^'^' = :it:-y\ .n;r •' j-.r ;,/;.•■ iUc^ •:.: .>.C3 




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' ; ■■;■ ' ■ ;;■;:-:' ^r'^ ' y:rS-'"'--'' ■ 




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... ■; ^ ■ «,# v/ -■,■■■: "'-:;■•■ '.'-.(f-^ 





♦•- 



( 



CHAPTER VI. 

0ON!iTJCT AND VICTORY 

WHEN the cottage was again restored to 
its old order and quiet -that order a.id 
quiet 80 painful to a bereaved heart -Peggy 
had "not worlc enough to keep the grief 
down " When she folded her hands to rest 
she suffered "such a hunger after the blissed 

one "that she grew nearly wild. She felt a 
constant impulse to run to Cloynmally and he 
down on the grave; and her prayer was no 

that God would sanctify her bereavement, but 
that He would take her " jist now and without 
delay to Himself and to the darlin' one. ^ 

» Come, jewel," said John, one day, "ye ve 
wept the full 0' a bucket o' tears; now cheer 
up and see if ye can't fill the place o' Mammy 
Honey in Killyrooke. Ye' ve always been a 
great sheep," Ue added, looking at her proudly, 

68 



r?^^'"^i^-™',..^i^!F!-> 



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 



69 



istorcd to 
>rder and 
; — Peggy 
the giicf 
,8 to rest, 
he blissed 
She felt a 
lly and lie 
ir was not 
omeiit, but 
iid without 
aue." 

Jay, " yo've 
now cheer 
. o' Mammy 
ays been a 
tier proudly, 



" and it did well to have ye so when there was 
a strong mother in the cottage ; but now that 
ye are the mistress o' the house, ye must put 
on a brave face or I'll be left without a woman 

at ail!" ■-,■;;.•■:■;' >.■--'", 

So Peggy— poor, faithful heart — set out in 
real earnest to keep her sorrow down, that she 
might be a good, obedient and cheerful wife. 
Slie now, according to Mammy Honey's re- 
quest, called Nannie to her and told her as 
gently as possible that she had no further need 
of her services, and soothed her disappoint- 
ment—for Nan thought herself settled for 
life — by giving her a little silver brooch 
which Mammy Honey had worn in her maid- 
enhood. « Nannie, child," she said, «' remem- 
ber when you go from me that there's a God 
aboove ye; and so never let one onpure 
thought 'bide in the heart that beats under 
Mammy Honey's brooch. None but a hooly 
heart iver yet throbbed beneath it ; and only 
for its reminding ye o' her, and so, may be, 
ladin' ye to her God, makes me part with it 



■ms 



70 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



at all." And she kissed the little pin teii- 
doi'ly. 

Nan grasped the trifle eagerly, expressed 
regret that there was not a red stone in it, 
fastened it into the bosom of her linsey-woolsey 
gown, and stepped up to Peggy's nine-by- 
twelve looking-glass to admire herself. 

Turning her head this way and that to get a 
full view of her comeliness, she replied, " One 
thing is sure ; if ye won't keep me here I'll go 
over to Mike Crogan's, for he wants a bar- 
maid. Ho says my red cheeks is just the 
things to draw in guests o' market days, and 
he'll give me ten shillings a year more nor the 
last one had. She's destroyed entirely by the 
small pox, ye know." 

" Don't go there, Nannie. It's but a rough 
place at best, and what with fightin', and 
pitchin' coppers, and bettin' on donkeys o' 
market days, it's growiu' to be a curse to the 
town it's in. Take a place at sarvice, or else 
'bide at home, knitting and mending for the 
childor," said Peggy. 



CONFUCT AND VICTORY. 



71 



pin tcu- 

xpressed 

le in it, 

-woolsey 

nine-by- 

: to get a 
d, " One 
•e I'll go 
,s a bar- 
just the 
lays, and 
I nor the 
ly by the 

a rough 
tin', and 
lukeys o' 
se to the 
e, or else 
I for the 



■ " I'll do nather one nor yet the other," re- 
plied Nan, pertly, "for I'm my own masther 
now.?' 

With several other gifts and words of ad- 
vice, which were thrown away on Nan, Peggy 
parted with her the next day, and saw her set 
off — without crossing the road to speak to her 
mother — for Drougally, where Mike Crogan 
kept a poor inn for drovers, under the style of 
" The Bull's-horn's Inn." 

Once more alone, Peggy sat down to Mam- 
my Honey's little flax-wheel. But the wheel 
caught and would not turn, and the thread 
knotted and snarled so that she could make 
no progress. Ah, it takes a happy, or at least 
an easy heart, to do effectually the lowliest 
work ! She put the wheel away in the inner 
room and seated herself, knitting in hand. 
She looked around the kitchen which had been 
for years so like a palace to her ; but now the 
-laoky rafters frowned on her, and the whole 
])laco looked poor, empty and gloomy. She 
glanced wiihin her own heart, but all there 
was blackness and darkness. Dropping her 



v^msmmmmm 



ft 



72 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



hands helplessly at her side, she cried, » Hif- 
enly Father, had yo no pity left for ycr poor 
orphant Peggy, when ye took the blissed Maiu- 
niy Houey away where ye had millions more 
like her, and left the world without a one, and 
my heart broke in two pieces ? Sure, ye can 
nivcr love me, or yo would ha' spared me this, 
by takin' me along with her ! " 

Ajid then the hitherto patient and submis- 
sive woman cherished hard thoughts of God, 
and doubted not only Uis mercy but His 
power. She was for a season iu the hands 
of the tempter and loft to buffet with him 
alone. Awful thoughts, of which she had 
never before dreamed, came rushing madly 
over her hitherto placid mind, like deafening 
torrents. " Perhaps, lifter all," she thought, 
« there is no God and no immortality. Per- 
haps Mammy Honey, and the minister, and all 
the church have been deceived, and the dear 
heart has slipped out of life-like her own 
pet lamb that died in the spring - to lie snise- 
less forever!" The bare suspicion against 
God filled her soul with anguish ; and falling 



CONFLICT AND VICTOR T. 



73 



!cv poor 
3(1 Maiu- 
iis more 
DUO, and 
, yc can 
mo this, 

submis- 

of God, 
but His 
lie hands 
Yith hiin 

she had 
ig madly 
deafening 

tliought, 
ity. Pcr- 
ir, and all 

the dear 
5 her own 
) lie sinse- 
in against 
nd falling 



on her knees she shrieked out, " I'm undone, 
undone ! I've grieved the Holy Spirit by 
castiu away ray confidence, which hath great 
recompense o' reward ; and now I've lost God 
as well as. Mammy Honey, and I'm goiu' 
wild ! " 

Just then the words of the dying saint came 
to mind, " Remember, dears, the divil is not 
dead yet ; " and she realized his presence, 
tempting her to curse God and die, and trem- 
bled as a young lamb in the fangs of a wolf. 
Waving her hand bel ind her, she cried out in 
lier agony, " ' Get thee behind me, Satan,' for I 
have not the power o' Him yo trifled with and 
lied to on the mountain ! I cannot fast forty 
days and forty nights ; Lord, bind him hand 
and foot, that he do not destroy me ! " 

J<jlin was repairing ditches a little way from 
the cottage, and hearing Peggy's cries, went in 
and found her prostrate on the cold floor. 
" Rise up, there, darlin'," he said. " Do ye 
pray all yer time? Why can't ye let the 
dear jewel rest in her grave now, and be 
aisy ? " 



C. 



p^ 



mm* 



74 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



" Ocli, John, Mammy Honey's loss is a small 
thing now! I've got a linger throul.lc nor 
that on me ! " she cried, turning her palo face 
up to him imploringly. 

"What on arth can it he?" asked John, 
running to the door, and looking, involun- 
tarily, toward the cow-house and the sheep- 
fold, where his treasures w r^ "Have wo 
lost any body else ? " 

"Yes, John; I've lost God!" cried the 
temptc.l woman. "My soul's in the dark, 
and the divil, that Mammy Honey had such 
sore battles with, is standin' afore me and 
hiding Him — if He's hero at all," 

"You're losiu' yer sinso, dear!" cried 
John. "Cheer up, now, and I'll get the 
donkey-cart and we'll have a rido over to the 
widow Doane's, and ye'll carry her some o' 
yer new honey ; and ye'll como back bright 



eno 



,' t " 



" John, I'll never go to see any friend till I 
first find the Lord ; and if yo love me. Live roe 
to myself till then. Could ye and Paddy do 
without me after dinner ? I'd fain spend the 



JMMMftx 



^nHAmmutm 



Bt)<tftitt M W tt« ^i ^ '^* W ^' 



mmi 




is a small 

oublo nor 
pale face 

ked John, 
, iiivohm- 
Lhc shecp- 
' Have wo 

cried the 

the dark, 

had such 

e me and 

r ! " cried 
11 get the 
)ver to the 
er some o' 
lack bright 

■riei)U till I 
ae, L'.ve roe 
i Paddy do 
1 spend the 



CONFLICT AND VICTOR T. W 

lavin's o' this day alone in her room in fastln' 
and prayer." 

" Fastia' ? Sure, yer nof; turnin' Papist, 
arc yc ? " asked John. 

" Och, no, dear, but I'm seekiu' my lost 
Lord — Ilim wliom my soul loveth ; and sure, 
dear, eatin' is o' small account beside such 
business as that ! " replied Peggy, solemnly. 

John looked at her wonderingly. His 
mother's conflicts and triumphs had been 
matters of constant conversation, her religion 
being so woven in with her every-day life that 
the fruits of it, charity and patience, were 
visible to all about lior. But Peggy had lived 
within herself, being always reserved on mat- 
tors of a spiritual nature, so that her speaking 
thus freely amazed him. 

" Well, take yer own way, wife," he replied ; 
" only don't give yerself so to religion as to 
neglect the dairy and the poultry. The piousest 
time ouf .'notlier ever had, she was as arneat 
about her ^- j 'ss as ever. She said that 
liviu' lear 'he I r d helped her better with her 



v,i 






76 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



duty. And for that, itself, if no other, religion 
would bo a fine thing in the world." 
r Peggy prepared the humble meal and served 
it as one whose spirit was far away. All being 
restored to neatness in the kitche.i, she with- 
drew to the inner room, where the time-worn 
Bible lay on a rude little stand, covered with a 
clean linen towel ; and she was seen no more 
iu the kitchen that night. «- 

In the morning John was wakened from a 
deep sleep by the voice of singing in the 
kitchen, where his good wife was busy prepar- 
ing the morning meal. 

" Oh, for this love let rooks and hflli 

Their lasting silence break; 

And all harmonious human tongues 

The Saviour's praises speak! " , 

« Sure, that can never bo yo, Peggy, tunin' 
up this joyful way," he said, as he entered the 
kitchen, over whose smooth clay floor the sun 
was now shining cheerily. 

"Och, dear heart!" cried Peggy, coming 
forward U meet him and taking both his hands 





CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 



11 



J, tunin' 

tered tho 

tho sun 



in her own ; " come and sit down till I ask ye 
a question. Did ye ever hear Mammy Honey 
say that a body could he ' born again ' more 
than once ? " 

"Well, noo, I don't mind that I did," 
replied John, with an air of surprise, as he 
looked at Peggy's face, which shone like an 
angel's. " Why, dear, what if she did ? " ' > 

" Why, then, if that can be so, I've been 
twice ' born again ; ' once when I was a lonely 
orphan t at dear Farmer Doane's, and now this 
last night again. And, John, look at me, and 
tell mo if I'm the same Peggy ye saw breakiu' 
her heart these last days because God didn't 
give up the rule o' all things — even life and 
death — into her foolish hands ? " 

" 1 wad niver great on thaology," replied 
John, " and if ye'd like, I'll drive ye to Cloyn- 
mally to ask yon question o' the minister to- 
morrow* 

" To-morrow ! I must walk the two miles 
as soon as my work is over, and call upon him, 
and good elder Peter, and them all, to bless 
and praise His holy name that Ho has revealed 



78 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



Himself to me above all my sins o' doubt and 
distrust, and sent tbo divil off ashamed to his 
own place — asliamed b' the mane sperit that 
bid liini to pass by the strong soldiers o' the 
cross to fight with a poor, weak and ignorant 
child like inosilf." 

" And will ye go alone, yerself, to the minis- 
ter's house ? " asked John ; for that was a 
stretch of courage in her for which he was not 
prepared. • ^ . 

" Indade will I, though I never made that 
bold before. Why, John, I would go into his 
pulpit if God bid me, to tell o' His wondrous 
love — how Ho rovaled Himself to me as the 
altogether lovely, the last night, when all the 
world but mo was slocpin'. I think I'll never 
have time to sleep more while I live, John ; 
a whole life o' wakin' hours is far too short to 
praise Him in ! Och, but blissed bo His name, 
T'li have a whole ctariiity to finish in — but 
finished my praise can niver, nivor bo." 

Paddy Mnunon's appetite was the token to 
him thaf^ breakfast was ready. Ho liad drawn 
near the cottage and stood at, the door, amazed 



i>aiiii]|irtii 



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 



79 



mbt and 
i to his 
Bi'it that 
8 o' the 
ignorant 



10 mmis- 
b was a 
) was not 

ado that 

into hia 

yondrou8 

10 as the 

1 all the 

I'll never 

'0, John ; 

short to 

lis name, 

in — but 

token to 
ad drawn 
r, amazed 



at the joyful animation of his mistress, usually 
80 calm and silent. He entered and took his seat 
at tlie table, before tiie snowy potatoes and the 
savory herring. " She's been convarted into a 
new Misthress Iloney," ho said to John. 
" Sure, I never heerd her say the like o' yon 
afore. What's coorao over her, that the tears 
is all dried and she a psalm singing 1 " 

" Whist, Paddy," said John. " She's got 
peace to her soul that ye could niver under- 
stand if I should strive to explain to ye." Alas, 
the poor man did not himself understand 
Peggy's sudden transition from anguish to Joy ; 
but he did not tell Paddy this. " This cooms 
in the way o' our religion," he added. " And, 
dear," said ho to Peggy ; " be sure ye take the 
dnrlin' mannny's little egg basket to the minis- 
tor's, and till his lady we'll keep up the gift 
o' herself as long as wo have a hin to cackle 
aboot tlic doors ! For I'll be sorry the minister 
should think there weren't a Christian left in 
tiie cottage to fade tho Lord's sarvants, now 
my mother's gone ! " 



SSMMI 



CHAPTER VII. 

VISIT TO THE MINISTER. • 

THE soft breozo of the bright autumnal 
afternoon was playing among tho leaves of 
the luxuriant woodbine which overhung the 
porch of the unpretending house of Mr. Mur- 
ray, the excellent minister of Cloynmally, 
when Peggy tapped at the door. Slie asked 
tho maid, " Do yo think tho minister would 
be at leisure to spake a few words to me ? " 

She was ushered into tho little parlor, where 
Mrs. Murray sat reading to Iku- boys, and was 
kindly received. Before she was seated, Mr. 
Murray entered, and holding out his iiand, 
spoke in very gentle tones, as is natural when 
wo address one in Ui>op affliction. 

" My good friund," ho said, " I'm sorry you 
Bhould have to come after mo in your sorrow. 
I was going dowu to Killyrooke in an hour or 

80 



a 




VISIT TO THE MimSTER. 



81 



two, to seo you. I met John and heard how 
crushed you were by your great loss — and our 
loss, too, Peggy ; for we are all mourners in 
Cloynmally." 

Peggy dropped a low courtesy and looked up 
to him with a beaming face. " Dear Mr. 
Murray," she began, " it's not to talk o' death 
or sorrow I've come ; but to tell ye something 
that's wonderful and glorious — more like a 
message from heaven than of arth. I don't 
know whore to begin nor what to say." 

Mr. Murray saw the unnatural light in tho 
mild blue eye, and said, " As you are so shy, 
Poggy, perhaps you'd feel more free to talk 
witli nio alone in my study." 

" 0, dear heart, no ! " cried Poggy. " I 
want the whole of Cloynmally and Killyrooke 
— tlie wliolo world, to know what God has 
done for me, a poor, rebillious, weak, shy 
tiling, unworth his care or notice ! Do yo 
think, sir, tliat iver a body wjis * born again' 
twice? " 

" I believe, Poggy, that many who have been 
truly renewed in heart are afterward brought 



jJUU-lJi l IJJIIIllH. 



■m 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



into a fuller liglit and joy, which seems to 
them almost like a new birth," replied Mr. 
Murray. , '";•"■ ■"^''■'^"•. 

"Well, dear Mr. Murray, ye know well 
what a weak child I have been — in spent — 
always holding on to Mammy Honey's skirt to 
keep my hope up. I've been years a hungcrin' 
and a thirstin' after righteousness. But mind ' 
what blindness I was in ! When I'd pray, I'd 
say, ' Make mo holy like Mammy Honey,' and 
not, ' as He is holy.' I made that blissed saint 
my pattern, and was iver strivin' to be like her 
and to plaze her. If God helped me to forgive 
my poor neighbors and to retarn them good 
for evil, I rejoiced, and thought, ' That is like 
her ai\d will plaze her.' 

« When the fear o' death would come over 
me I was in great trouble because I'd be 
parted from her, and I used to pray that God 
would take us two at one time, havin' a kind 
o' dim hope that her strength and courage 
would help to uphold me. But God came and 
took her from mo, and I'd fallen into sin and 
doubted his mercy; and woe's me, I charged 



raii 



- m,mmm 



VISIT TO THE MimSTER. 88 

God with forgettiu' to be gracious and not 
kcepin' His covenant with the orphant! 
Satan tlien came and brought with him black- 
ness and horrible darkness; and I lost God 
and hope, as well as her ! Och, ye would ha' 
pitied me, dear sir, for I'd none to speak to — 
for John didn't understand me. I prayed for 
hours, till I sank exliausted on ray pillow and 
fell asleep. Then I dramed that I was walkin* 
weary and lame through huge bogs full o* 
holes and pits, and it black night about me. 
I dropped my staflFand feared to go on without 
it, and stood cryin'. All of a suddent it grew 
light, and there before me stood the two 
shinin' ones that Bunyan saw, and they bid me 
have gjod heart and walk bravely homeward. 
I told them I was hurted and could not go 
alone. Then said one o' them, ' Ye are niver 
alone; for tiiough ye see him not for yer 
blindness, the Saviour is beside ye always, and 
bcnath ye are the everlasting arms. It is this 
which has kept ye so that ye could not, and 
that ye will not fall — forivor ! ' I looked at 
my right hand, and there stood one like unto 



'"If: 



^ OEMS OF THE BOO. 

the Son o' man, and all the time I'd been held 
up by Him and didn't know it. He turned 
His lovin' eyes on me and spake ; but the 
words I can nivcr tell, for they're gone fi-om 
me ; but they left my soul haped full o' joy, 
and now there's room for nothing else there ! 
I'm just flyin' to go and be foriver with Him, 
and yit I'm quite contint to 'bide here tin 
thousand years if by that same I could add a 
whit to His glory or bring one poor soul to 
taste His love. And my heart is that full o' 
love to my neighbors that I could take tliem 
all into my arms : they are no longer miserable 
•Papists' to me, but dear sinners that I must 
get saved with this great salvation! Did ye 
iver hear the like o' this before, sir? I 
walked all the way to ask ye." 

« Yes, my good woman," replied the minis- 
ter, looking in wonder at the radiant face over 
which tears of joy were freely coursing. « I 
know two persons who have enjoyed such 
wondrous revelations of God's mercy. One of 
them was a godly Scotch minister in Dundee. 
, He told me that he once had a season of such 




le minis- 
face over 
iing. "I 
yred such 
One of 
Dundee. 
)U of such 



VISIT TO THE MIlfiaTER. 



85 



perfect and conscious union with Christ that 
lie liad no will of his own left. Ho felt his 
whole being, for time and eternity, swallowed 
up in God. His glorious perfections and attri- 
butes were revealed to him in a way that led 
him to realize something of the glory of heaven, 
where Ho is all and in all. But I'll tell you, 
my dear friend, what else he said — not to dis- 
courage you, but so that, should his words 
come true, you will see that no strange thing is 
befalling you. He said that in all the cases he 
had known of this wondrous revelation, God 
was thus preparing the soul either for some 
great work or some great sorrow. Immedi- 
ately after his own triumphant view of God, 
there was such an outpouring of the Spirit as 
had not been in that city for a half century ; 
and he was thus fitted to gather in the lambs 
and to edify the saints. A worthy old saint, 
named Carmichal, experienced, years ago, much 
the same displays of God's power in his soul, 
leading him to make a new and fuller sur- 
render of himself and his all to Christ. Not 
long after this a fearful distemper prevailed, 



#1 OEMS OF THE BOO. 

and his three children were smitten down and 
his house left unto him desolate. And he 
said that he gave them up with joy in his soul 
— that he could not refrain from falling on his 
knees hefore his neighbors, and thanking God 
that Ho had accepted those whom he had so 
often committed to His care." 

« And so, dear Mr. Murray, them two had a 
heaven as well as mysilf on arth. But what 
could labor be but joy, after one has had a look 
at the Saviour's face ? I can't see what could 
como that one would have the boldness to 
call ' throuble,' after yon vision o' heaven in 
tlie soul." "-:■'' /'■-";■,:-■■-';, ■'■-^ ;'».- ■•'.■■' -^ ,■;■■ 
"Why, Peggy, death must ever remain a 
curse, for it separates us from those we love, 
you know, even if they and we are prepared to 
meet again," said the minister. 

" But it can never be a curse to me, dear 
heart, after this day. If I had twenty Mammy 
Honeys I'd give them all to Him, though I'd 
not a one beside, in all the world, to love me. 
What could I hold back from one who gave 
Himself for me ? " 



VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 



87 



"All, Peggy, my good woman, you have 
reached a height your minister haa not yet 
caught sight of. The King has held out His 
Bceptro to you and suffered you to speak in His 
presence chamber. Go home and ask Him to 
reveal Himself to me — His weary servant who 
haa long toiled for souls in darkness hero — as 
He has dona to you. And may the God of peace 
abide wiih you." - •/ 

All this time Peggy liad held Mammy 
Honey's little egg-basket on her arm, and now, 
"ccoUecting herself, she gave it with John's 
oaossage to Mrs. Murray, and said, " The sun is 
iinking, find I must go to look after my milk 
when poor Paddy brings it in. And I must 
take a step into the church-yard as I go, to look 
at the swate, pacof'ii grave where my darlin' is 
sleepin." And with a "-ourtesy she departed. 

As she passed thi^ igh the little flowei^gar- 
deu on her way to the "oad, Peggy stooped to 
look at a little flower "Pluck as many as 
you please, my dear friciil," said the minister, 
who stood in the door watching her. She 



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88 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



gatliered a few sprigs of mignonette and 
licart's-case, and, curtseying lier thanks, went 
on. As Mr. Murray closed the door, ho 
saw her press them to lier lips. " Ah, look at 
her! " he said to his wife. "Her heart is so 
full of love to-day that she is forced to pour 
it out on the smallest things that God has 
made ! Oh, for her exceeding great joy ! " 

When Peggy reached the little church-ya.-d, 
she stood a moment looking over the hcdgo 
which surrounded it ; then she passed in, and 
\ip a path to the new-made grave. A work- 
man was there trimming the hedge ; two 
little boys were wandering about hand-in-hand 
in solemn curiosity, whispering their questions 
and answers to each other ; a score of merry 
birds wore trilling and twittering — they hud 
no fear of death. But Peggy heeded neither 
sight nor sound. She was alone with God. 
" Sure," she said, " this can never be the aw- 
ful place we left so late ! all here is calm and 
holy and homelike ! and she, the mother o' 
my heart, is but slapin' after the wary day. 



-,-. "ifo'^.a iU^'iAi*!.; 



)nette and 
laiiks, went 
I door, he 
ill, look at 
lieart is so 
ed to pour 
t God haa 
■tjoy!" 
Imrch-ya.'d, 

tho hedge 
ised in, and 
I. A work- 
ledge ; two 
and-in-hand 
r questions 
3 of merry 
— they hud 
dcd neither 

with God. 

be tho aw- 
I calm and 

mother o' 

wary day. 



■(»f'^**iiiw^i»-'i-'- 



VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 

This is but the open door to hiven, my Father's 
house, where herself is a waitin' mo ! But 
whin I reach the place, my heart will bo that 
full o' Himself, that it'll be a space ere I run 
to her! He is to me, as niver till this day, 
the altogether lovely! He makes death aisy 
and the grave blissed. 0, death ! where is *hy 
sting, 0, grave ! where is thy victory ? They 
are both gone ; and we, when we is risen with 
Christ, will be conquerors, and shall wear the 
crown ! Oh, tho love o' God in Christ Jesus ! 
How iver shall I show it to the world, and 
brii'g them all to taste it ! " 

She sat on the new-laid sod, smoothing it 
gently with her hand. " I must away now, 
darlin', homo to my duties ; the roughest o' 
thim all looks jist lovely to me now! I'll 
never again ask to bring ye back from ihe joy 
o' the Lord; never weep more for ye, and 
never cast reflections on God, by sayin' — ' I've 
lost my mother;' for I've not! I have her 
still, far safer and surer nor before, in the 
bosom o' the Lord. Farewell, darlin' dust ! 



%^, 



90 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



for there's nothing hero but that ! " And with 
a plaoid face, the lovnig crea'ure pressed a 
fervent kiss on " the dear arth that covered 
the darlin'," laid the little flowers upon it, 
and went on her homeward way. 




And with 
■e pressed a 
lat covered 
irs upon it, 



CHAPTER VIII. 



SINGING AND WOBKINa. 



WHEN Peggy returned to her labors, a 
light seemed to shine over every homely 
thing she touched, and toil was changed from a 
curse to a blessing. When the dairy work was 
over, sho stirred up the peat, which usually 
supplied her with light, and brought out once 
more the little wheel. The flax flew a" if 
by magic under her fingers, and the threads 
ran from it like silver wires in the changing 
firelight ; and before she knew it, she was ding- 
ing at her work. Tlmt she had rarely done in 
her happiest day, for, as John said, " sho was 
snch a quiet-like mousie yo'd nivcr know sho 
was in tlio world but only for the power o' 
work she tarned off her two hands." It had 
been Mammy Honey's wont to cheer lab r with 
Bong, and Peggy had now resolved to bo as 



92 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



nearly like her as possible, in all things. John 
joined her song, and at the end of the first 
verso Peggy, turned to Paddy, who was sitting 
cross-legged on the floor beside her, mending 
the donkey's harness. He always insisted that 
" though it was manners entirely to sit in a 
cheer, if it was rest a lad was afther, there was 
nothing like a smooth clay floor for that." 
" Paddy," said his mistress,'' ye've got a swate 
voice whin ye sing yon heap o' nonsinsc ; why 
can't yo use it, dear man, to praise the Lord 
with ? " 

"I'm afcared o' that cudgel o' his rivor- 
enco's, misthress dear. I've felt the weight o't 
moor nor once , and one time warn't my 
shoulders black and blue with the knocks I got 
o't for larnin' the 'Simbly's Catechism? I 
promished him that day I'd hear no more 
prayers here, and forgit that same catechism — 
sure I know it so well now that I can say ivory 
blissed word o't and count at the same time ! 
Whin Misthress Honey wint and asked him 
what her b'y had ben doin' that dosarved im- 
braces like yon, didn't ho toll ber I'd boon 



« 



SINOma AND WORKING. 



93 



ings. John 
of tho first 
was sitting 
}r, mending 
iisisted that 

to sit in a 
•, there was 

for that." 
got a swate 
isinse ; why 
Q tho Lord 

' his river- 
3 weight o'fc 
warn't my 
nocks I got 
)chism ? I 
r no more 
atochism — 
m say ivory 
samo time ! 
asked him 
sarved im- 
r rd been 



Stalin' pears out o' his garden ? It nigh 
broke iior heart thinkin' that I, a well-fed lad, 
would be that mean and vicious! And niver a 
pear did he raise in tliat ould garden ! 

" Well, thin slie put me to larnin' the com- 
mandmint, 'Thou shalt not stale ; ' and tho drst 
time I confissed, didn't lie draw that out o' me 
and give mo another batin' ? So betwixt the 
twos o' 'em poor Paddy had a sorry life o't, 
and the wise conclusion I come to was jist 
tliis : to belave my dear misthress' religion, 
and to pretind that I belaved his. So that 
ways I gets on quite asy. No, no, I'll not be 
caught by any neighbor that'll chance in, a 
singing hums, but I'll listen ; that's all ye can 
expect o' me." 

" Tliere, there, Paddy, don't hinder the swate 
singin' all night with yer talk, foolish man. 
Keep quiet while we sing, and try to praise 
God in yer heart," said John. 

" Ay," replied Paddy, " I wull. Don't ye 
think, masther, the lather o' thim reins war 
rotten entirely whin we bought em? I was 
toUin' Jack Garin— — " 



itnUMU'titilii't 



i '; 



M 



94 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



" Whist, Paddy," cried John, sharply, " and 
listen to tlie singin'." 

"I wull, thin," answered Paddy, bending 
over his work, and pressing his lips together 
so tiglitly that no word could slip through 
unawares. 

When Peggy had finished her spinning and 
her singing for tlio night, she brought out two 
large bags filled with yarn, carded and spun 
by the hands now folded forever. She poured 
out the hanks on the table, and looking proud- 
ly at the high mound they made, said, " Look, 
John and Paddy ! , It's little o' this yo'll need, 
for she left ye both supplied with warm stock- 
ings for five years. So the nady will get it ; 
and I've had jist a lovely thought come to me, 
like it had come from herself in heaven." 

" May be ; but it wouldn't need come so far, 
for yer own heart's full o' as good and pure 
thoughts as is to bo found any where ; " replied 
John ; " but let us hear this one." 

" Whin I was wonderin' what more lovin' 
■work I could do in the world, this came to my 
mind, that I was young and strong, a'ld 



ini)Miifiifcidiwj»j[<>i<aiiiiji>^.. 



•ply, " and 

r, bending 
IS together 
p through 

uning and 
lit out two 

and spun 
he poured 
ing proud- 
d, " Look, 
yo'll need, 
arm stock- 
^ill get it ; 
»mo to me, 
.ven." 
une so far, 

and pure 
; " replied 

ore lovin' 
line to my 
roug, a'ld 



fiiUiiAiiriairiiiiiiiaifcjiliifc, 




SmaiNO AUTD WORKINO. 

didn't nnde all the slape I'm takin' ; and that if 
I'd rise one hour arlier and go to slape one hour 
later, nddin' that time to the hours I could 
give to her old work for the nady, it ^ould 
atone a bit for the loss o' her, and it would 
make me that glad to feel that myself was 
honored by fiUin' her place ir. tlie poor's 
hearts ; " and parcelling out the yarn she 
continued, " Thim skeins will bo enough for 
Teddy Byrns, and thim for old Davie Loon. 
These will knit four pairs for the poor babies 
o' careless Kate Connor, and tliese for lamo 
Jerry, and them for the poor fool, and——" 

" Quit, Peggy, woman," cried John, starting 
up, and manifesting a temper tiiat she had 
seldom seen before ; " would ye be turnin' yer 
back on yer husband's honor and on tlie rispic- 
tability o' all the race o' Sheohan by covering 
the feet o' yon vile scapegrace ? I hope the 
toes will freeze off his two feet, and that he'll 
starve to death with the cold afore spring 
laughs on the fields agin — to disgrace a 
fine rispictable funeral as he did yon day, -— 
the villyan ! " 



tmm 



96 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



«' 



" Mam my Honey both clothed and faded 
her inimies, John, and it's no more nor the 
Musther bids us all do. Sure, there'd bo a 
great tarnin' up o' tilings if Himself sliould 
cease to fade ony but His friends ! 0, dear 
man, mind He's sent His rain on our fields 
mony the time when we war livin' forgetful 
enough o' Him, and has had an eye on every 
cratur' in herd or fold while we war slapiu' 
warm in our bed." 

" Peggy, woman, ye'ro a great sheep. I b^ 
lave if one should slap ye in the face ye'd offer 
him bread and milk to pay him for his attin- 
tions ! Now mind what I say — that seldom 
bids ye agin yer will, as other husbands does 
— let no mouthful that I arns iver go betwane 
the teeth o' yon fool, and let no wool off" my 
sheep's backs ever cover his old feet ! I'm 
plannin' yet how I'll punish him for yon onre- 
ligious insult, and ye'd be knittin' stockiu's 
for him the manewhile ! Indade ! " 

Peggy jaade no reply ; but Paddy's ready 
tongue filled up the gap which would other- 
wise have been left in the couversatiou. 



]nin'na■}ll,ii&riai^«ll 



^iwiiiii^iV'iirVtfiifiahiiJiifi*! - 



and faded 
>re nor the 
lere'd be a 
self sliould 
i! 0, dear 
our fields 
a' forgetful 
e on every 
war slapiu' 

eep. I be- 
J ye'd offer 
r his attin- 
liat seldom 
sba'jds docs 
go betwane 
ool off my 
feet ! I'm 
* you onre- 
i' stockiu's 

Idy's ready 
ould other- 
iou. 



SiyOINO AND WORKING. 



VT 



" Masther, dear," ho cried, eagerly, " will ye 
lave his punishment in my hands ? I'll hide 
ahind the hedge when I sees him comin', all 
dressed in a shate wid horns on my head, and 
hug him in my two arms. He's the cowardest 
cratur' in Killyrooke, and that would tarmint 
him far more nor the hugest batin ! " 

" Och, John, dear, don't let Paddy taze him, 
for he's one o' the Lord's stricken ones, and 
we'd surely grieve Him if we'd be to scare 
away the bit o' sinse he has. Shame on ye, 
Paddy Mannon ! Ye that are so afeared o' 
ghosts and the Evil One that ye daren't go to 
yer bed alone, and has to be coaxed up to the 
kitchen fire like a froze lamb ; ye to be plot- 
tin' torture like yon for a poor thing that's 
witless enough to do ony man's biddin' ! " 

" Well, noo, both o' ye do my hiddin\" said 
John. " Paddy, ye lave yon fool in yer mas- 
ther's hand; and, Peggy, let me see no 
stockiu's goin' out o' the cottage to him." 

This resolute tone was so unlike the yielding 
John that Peggy looked up in alarm, and 
made no reply. Bemembering, as she never 

7 



■iSim 



pvunnpii 



98 



GEMS or TUE BOG. 



ceased to do, that all there belonged to John, 
and that she came to him a poor orphan with 
lier worldly all in a little blue trunk that 
Paddy had carried into tlio cottage in one 
hand, she submitted to his will. 



« iMi r i la il i i ai . H ir« ti Ml >>ir ii 



iii'^ifi-tmn'a^ •■tirt ihiiiiftii 



1 to John, 
plian with 
runk that 
;e ill one 



CHAPTER IX. 



AN UKWELCOME GUEST. 



THE winter, long and dreary, wore away, 
and the first whisperings of spring were 
heard among the brandies around the cottage. 
Cheerfully as the fond Peggy had yielded up 
her mother to God, she yet suffered at times 
an unutterable longing for her, and an unde- 
fined dread lest the swallows might not come 
back to build under tho thatch, and that the 
liawthorn and honeysuckle would forget to 
bloom. It seemed impossible that the birds 
could come, now that the hand which had fed 
them was gone, or that the vinos could creep 
upwaid in their silent strength when her hand 
was not there to train them ; or that the sham 
rock and the daisy could peep above the cold 
sod, when she who had so loved their lowly 
beauty was no longer there to smile on them. 



100 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



Nature is n-^t retarded in her progress by 
any changes in our homes, but moves on in 
her noiseless work to cheer the hearts and pro- 
vide for the wants of tho living. 

Fruits succeeded the blossoms, and again 
the grain waved with its ripened burden in the 
fields of Daisy Farm. The reapers were busy 
with John and Paddy at a distance from the 
house. Peggy felt keenly the loss, which 
seemed renewed by this commemorative sea- 
son. The stillness of the cottage impressed 
her so painfully, one day, that she was glad 
when the sinking sun shone aslant the door- 
stone, reminding her that it was time to go to 
her milking. The shadows had begun to fall 
before she had finished her wo; k in the barn- 
yard ; and being sad, she was not as brave as 
usual. At) she took up her stool in one hand 
and her shining pail in the other, and turned to 
go towards " Maid o' Longford," the last cow, 
she was not a little startled at seeing a tall, 
thin figure close behind her in tho garb of a 
beggar. The famine was just then beginning 
to cast its shadow over poor Ireland, and 



k.tMMiMMd'lL*' ■ W^miihMvM 



tKiir ] 'ii)»iiiriiiii>i 




progress by 
lovcs on in 
irts and pro- 

, and again 
Lirdeu in the 
s were busy 
ice from the 
loss, which 
lorative sea- 
e impressed 
10 was glad 
it the door- 
irae to go to 
)egun to fall 
,n the bam- 
as brave as 
in one hand 
id turned to 
le last cow, 
icing a tall, 
10 garb of a 
1 beginning 
I'eland, and 



AN UNWELCOME QUEST. 



101 



beggars were becoming not only plenty, but 
insolent, often threatening and cursing those 
who did not meet all their demands. 

Always timid, Peggy was really terrified as 
the close, black hood was not lifted from the 
face of the silent beggar. 

"And what is it I can do for ye, poor 
thing?" she asked, in a tremulous voice. 

" Peggy," replied the woman, « it's a si 3lter 
and a bit o' bread I wants. For the love o' 
God and Mammy Honey take me in, for I'm 
dying with hunger and wakeness." 

The voice struck Peggy with n sudden faint- 
ness, and she exclaimed, " Sure, Nanny, tluT 
is never ye, lookin' thus miserable ? " 

" It's no other," replied the girl, throwing 
back her hood, and showing her wan face. 
" Peggy, Mammy Honey never refused shelter 
even to a dumb brute." 

"No more will her child do it," replied 
Peggy. " I'll give ye all ye nade." 

" Well, thin, I nades a homo more nor any 
thing else. I've been tindin' bar ilsewhere 
since I left ould Crogan, who niver paid me a 



102 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



lia' pith, and I was sick tho last three mouths 
in a hospital, and have walked all the road 
home, and am dyin'." 

"Why not go to yer own father's house, 
child? Where elho would one go in throu- 
ble ? " asked Peggy. 

" Tliey'ro angered with me for lavin' thim 
that suddent. My mother sint word she'd 
murther mo if iver I come aboot here agin." 

" And why thin did ye come, child ? " asked 

Peggy. 

"To find marcy at yer hand, ye happy 
•woman. Lot mo 'bide under ye' marciful 
ruff," she answered, in an imploring tone. 

Peggy's heart sank within her, but her 
kindness triumphed over her fears, and sho 
replied, " Ye may 'bide hero, Nanny, till ye'ro 
warmed and fed, but if they'd give mo Harploy 
Hall I could never give 70 a home. Mammy 
Honey bid us two live by ourselves, with her 
last brith. But come with me now into the 
cottage ; " and Peggy took the little rod shawl 
from off her own shoulders, and wrapped it 
around the girl, who was shivering, for the 



AN UNWELCOMr GUEST. 



108 



•ee mouths 
[ the road 

;r's house, 
iu throu- 

lavin' thim 
rord she'd 
agin." 
d?" asked 

ye happy 
' marciful 
; toue. 
', but hop 
9, aud sho 
y, till ye' re 
no Harpley 
I. Mammy 
s, with her 
)«r iuto the 
[J rod shawl 
wrapped it 
ng, for the 



dew was falling, and led the way to the cot- 
tage. Here she stirred the peat till the 
waiting kettle puffed out anew its steam, aud 
then, taking down from a high shelf the tiny 
canister, mixed a cup of tea. 

When Nan was well warmed and revived by 
a good supper, her old assurance returned. 

" Come, Peggy," she said, coaxingly, " give 
a poor, disappointed and abused girl a home 
iu yer cottage, and I'll spin and wave for ye 
from daybreak till midnight." 

"Nanny," replied Peggy, summoning all 
her courage, "I'll do ye good ony way but 
this. Ye can niver ^bide in this house. John 
made me misthress o't the day God took the 
darliu' mother to Himself ; and while I remain 
that ye can never slape under this thatch." 

Nan gave a low, derisive laugh, which made 
her wan face terrible, and said, " If I war a 
Protestant ye'd kapo me. But take yer own 
way ; there's poor luck follows them as tarns 
the homeless oot o' doors." 

" Ye are not homeless, child, and nather am 
I thrntin' ye out; but doin' my hist for ye," 



I 



m 



104 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



replied Peggy. " Paddy Mannon, that's o' 
yer own religion, has often declared he'd not 
'bide under the same ruff with ye, for he's 
heard evil tales o' ye, child, since ye left me. 
So, when yo'ro well rested, go over to the 
father's house and get forgiveness, and be a 
good girl. There come my rapers now over 
the field, and I must take up their supper. 
Here's a crown, if ye'd be wantin' any little 
comforts." 

Nan rose feebly, took the proffered crown, 
turned her deep blue eyes sorrowfully on the 
good woman, and said in a hollow tone, which 
struck to her heart, "Ye may see the day. 
Peg O'Canty, when ye'U cross this door-stone 
with a sorrowfuUer heart nor I do now ! " 

Peggy was startled by her wild manner, and 
cried, "Och, Nanny, child, don't be cursin' 
yer bist friend! I'm ony mindin' Mammy 
Honey's biddin', and yet I must tell ye that 
I'm more afeared o' ye nor o' death itself." 

" And well ye may be," cried Nan, as with 
another stare at the timid woman she departed 
for her home. 



■ift<i»i>iii»wvwfrtitftrtn 



mimMlmmtilmmmltlllgi 



, that's o' 
i he'd not 
re, for he's 
ye left me. 
)ver to the 
, and be a 
s now over 
eir supper. 
i' any little 

jred crown, 
■iiUy on the 
tone, which 
se the day, 

door-stone 
ow ! " 
lanncr, and 

be cursin' 
n' Mammy 
tell ye that 
I itself." 
Ian, as with 
he departed 



yiUjlil^^ 



AN UNWELCOME OVEST. 



105 



Peggy was in an agony. She could then 
have given her the cottage and all it con- 
tained, so great was her fear of Nan's designs 
on licr peace of mind. The serpent's tooth had 
euterod Peggy's heart, and she could scarcely 
wait till the reapers had gone out to smoke by 
the roadside, to cry, "Tell me once for all, 
John, that ye love me more nor all else in the 
world." 

John laughed and asked, " Who other have 
I to love, jewel ? " 

When Peggy told the story of Nan's visit, he 
said, " Ye did well, for she's not fit company 
for ye, and I'll not sufier her aboot the place 
after the word o' our mother." And Peggy 
was satisfied, and laughed at her own fears 
and those of Paddy, roused by Nan's boast, 
which had reached their ears that though John 
was her father's playmate, she would be his 
second wife, and have that fine cottage and 
dairy yet. 



I* 

P 
IP 



U 




CHAPTER X. 

FAMINE AND DEATH. 

THE fever which followed in the wake of 
starvation in Ireland some twenty yeata 
ago, had been sweeping off its victims in the 
surro. ading rej^ion, but had not hitherto 
reached Killyrooke, nor yet had the potatoes 
there suffered to any greet extent. The peo- 
ple listened witli white lips to any account of 
*' the sickness," and if a person came from an 
infected region they fled from him as if he had 
the plague. Tlic stoutest hearts quailed before 
the dreadful scourge, and men were afraid even 
to be merciful to the starving, lest the next 
day their own little ones might be crying for 
bread. 

Meg Mannon had extended h • begging ex- 
cursion unwittingly into a village where tho 
fever had jurt broken out. Tl - half-starved 

IM 



m w u m rm MMwijn m 4MintlltKKltamttllSl$ 



p^j^mufi 




10 wake of 
wonty yeats 
tims ill tlio 
lot hitliorto 
Lhe potatoes 
t. The peo- 
accouub of 
ime from an 
as if he had 
nailed before 
afraid even 
est the next 
>e crying for 

begging ex- 

;e wliere the 

half-starved 

10 



FAMINE AND DEATH. 



107 



and poorly sheltered people were flying, panic- 
stricken, ill every direction. Here she fell 
sick, and gave a pauper two shillings to walk 
three miles to Killyrooke for Paddy, who ran 
all the way there, howling piteously, talking to 
her and crying real tears, and not the mock 
ones he got up for strangers. He reached the 
workliouse "just in time to see her die without 
a word o' love to the fine b'y who had been 
layin' down his very life for her all the years 
she war his wife." 

Oh, the overflowing anguish of that poor, 
foolish heart in that bitter hour, with none to 
speak a soothing word, and the gruff beadle 
giving his orders impatiently to have Meg 
buried before her form was cold ! 

Paddy grasped this dignitary by the arm j 
and while his tears ran like a summer shower, 
he cried, " Oh, if yer honor has the heart o' a 
hoosband benath his waistcoat, I imploores him 
to give me the swate clay o' my lovely wife till 
I gets it waked and buried in holy ground at 
Killyrooke — the only place in all the wide 
world worth bein' buried in." 



108 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 




The hard heart of the beadle was moved by 
Paddy's deep grief, and he finally promised to 
lot the body remain in an out-building till the 
devoted husband could make his arrangements 
at home, and return for it with the donkey- 
cart. 

So, carrying the frightened little Pat in his 
arms, Paddy ran back at the top of his speed 

— he had won a fine pipe and a steel tobacco- 
box once at a foot race — and rushed breathless 
into the cottage. 

*' Och — masther — John — and Peggy, ye 
angel o' a woman — I've a great honor — to 
ask o' ye. For the sake o' — Mammy Honey 

— that nive.* denied me an honor — for the 
sake o' the Virgin — Mary — and all the saints 
ontirely — would ye let me— bring Meg— the 
dear dead jewel — to the ould cow-house fernint 
the bog to-night to be waked, and thin to be 
buried the morrow ? " 

Terrified as they were by the very name of 
the sickness by which Meg had died, and by 
the sight of Paddy and his boy from an infected 
house, they had not the heart to deny his re- 



iMHta 





s moved by 
promised to 
liug till the 
rrangements 
the donkey- 

! Pat iu his 
of his speed 
tcel tobacco- 
;d breathless 

Peggy, yo 
t honor — to 
mmy Honey 
r — for the 
ill the saints 
g Meg — the 
louse fernint 

thill to be 

3ry name of 
lied, and by 
a an infected 
deny his re- 



■Ha 



MHkt' 



FAMINE AXD DEATH. 



lOf 



quest. But the prudent John dared not trust 
his donkey in the infected region, and told 
Paddy so. He, nothing daunted, replied, sob- 
bing bitterly, " Och, masther, heart o' love, if 
ye'd be to lend me the loan o' the dray we 
drags water with from the loch, I .a quite 
willin' to be a donkey mesilf, for the sake o' 
kapin' my word to the dead jewel, that I'd give 
her a fine funeral. Och ! och ! But it's black 
night entirely in my soul now and will iver be 
till the day when I lies down beside her. I'll 
never ate, drink or smoke more ; why would I 
when she's dead ? Och ! och ! oo, hoo ! " It 
really seemed to Peggy that Paddy's heart 
would break through* its strong breast- works 
with its tremendous throes. 

Peggy wept too, not that she cared milch for 
the beggar-woman, but from sympathy with him. 
She told Paddy to take poor little Pat into the 
cow-house and feed him well, and put him to 
rest in the hay till his return, for John was 
not willing either father or child should remain 
iu the cottage a moment. Having done this, 






PIBP 



it; 



110 GE3IS OF THE BOO. 

and in a marvclously short timo returned with 
hig melancholy burden ou the dray, he went 
off to spend his quarter's wages in ginger- 
bread, whisky and tobacco, and to invite his 
fiienls to the melancholy feast. But the news 
had preceded him, and they all fled from him 
with screams of terror. So he returned homo 
and shouted to his mistress from the stile : 
*' Sure, I've lost my quarter's wages, for not a 
one will come to the wake ; the fools is all 
afeard o' Meg, as harmless a cretur' as iver 
begged bread. But she'll get a prayer said for 
the repowse o' her sowl, as good a one as if she 
war the lady o' Harpley Hall, and I'll settle 
wiih his riverence at ihe end o' my uixt 

quarter." 

And Paddy, who was so afraid of death 
that he ran off a few months before and stayed 
away two days when the oldest donkey died, 
sat alone in the cow-house all night beside his 
dead, singing a dirge, or howling and crying. 
Now and then he consoled himself with his 
pipe, but he dared not even cast a sly glance 




limed with 
', he went 
in ginger- 
invite his 
it the news 
from him 
irned home . 
the stile : 
3, for not a 
bols is all 
;ur' as iver 
yer said for 
»ne as if she 
i I'll settle 
>' my uixt 

d of death 
5 and stayed 
onkoy died, 
lit beside his 
and crying, 
elf with his 
I sly glance 



FAMINE AND DEATB. 



Ill 



at the whisky jug, lest that might bring up 
Mammy Honey, who was a sworn foe to every 
thing like it. 

Some mourners plant rare flowers and rear 
costly monuments over their beloved dead ; but 
it costs them nothing compared with what 
Paddy endured before he thus rose triumphant 
over inborn cowardice and natural superstition. 
Had he believed that his doing so would have 
helped Meg's unshriven soul to slip more easily 
through purgatory, he would have lain down 
and been buried beside her. 

In the gray light of the morning, while 
little Pat was sleeping soundly in the hj"./, 
Paddy drew poor Meg to the httlo Catholic 
churchyard and, lowered her gently uito a grave 
he had dug there the night before, talking to 
her all the time amid bursts of tears, " It's yer 
own Paddy, dear, that's puttin' ye to rist. It 
war him made yer bed, and only for little Pat 
he'd come and lie down aside ye. Sure I'd 
niver let ould Murtagh dig yer grave with his 
dirty hands. No, darliii', mesilf did it with me 
best Sunday clothes on, — thim as was Daddy 



j»p:afc*fra g*' w 'S' fc Wi<i B ni iilp« 



i^. 



lit 



GEifS OF THE BOO. 



Shoehan's — though they're a trifle too big — 
fbr lie was a huge man, ye mind. Good-by to 
ye, Meg, ye fine ombitious gcrl. The sun sljines 
not on yer lilco, and it's a sliort space Paddy 
can live in the world ahind ye." 

The " holy Father " now came up according 
to appointment, and, standing at a respectful 
distance, read a service of which Paddy could 
not understand a word ; and it was just as well 
it was in Latin, for had it been in English, his 
reverence was too far off" to be heard. 

All being over, Paddy returned to the old cow- 
house, the same in which he and Meg had kept 
bouse occasionally, and prepared breakfast out 
of doors for himself and his child, Peggy 
having set a jug of milk half way between 
them and the cottage. 

After Paddy and his boy had been quaran- 
tined for several days in the old cow-house 
without showing any symptoms of the dreaded 
fever, Peggy allowed them to come to the cot- 
tage one evening, and eat their bread and milk 
on the door-stone. Standing in the farthest 
corner of the kitchen, she said, " Paddy, yer 




FAMINE AND DEATH. 



113 



too big — 
Good-by to 
3 sun sbines 
)aco Paddy 

) according 
a respectful 
'addy could 
just as well 
English, his 
rd. 

the old cow- 
leg had kept 
>rea1cfast out 
ihild, Peggy 
'ay between 

)een quaran- 
i cow-house 
the dreaded 
5 to the cot- 
sad and milk 
the farthest 
" Paddy, yer 



masther and mo is both wonderful taken up 
with yon curly-headed lamb o' yours ; and he 
bids ye not take him back to the workhouse, 
for lie's to 'bide with us and be our child, as 
wc niver had one o' our own. And who can 
tell, Paddy, but God took Meg away tliat the 
poor larabio might be spared a beggar's life, 
and grow up a holy man to fear God and to 
sarvo liis gineration." : i 

" Very like He did, thin," replied Paddy, 
" and if so, it war a great stroke o' luck that 
sint her to that town the very day the faver 
began ! " 

*' Don't say that, Paddy, o' the poor mother ; 
for whativer failiu's Meg had, slie was tinder 
o' the boy — niver lavin' him about among 
neighbors, as the half o' them do, but draggin' 
him weary miles on her back ! " 

" That's true, iudade ! But for all, it was 
luck to little Pat, that tuk her off, if therebys 
he's to be rared the son o' a fine, rispectable 
farmer, place o' beiu' reared a beggar. It's 
fine luck for little Pat, though it's raurther for 



"UN 



SBOHBIIini 



114 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



me, poor distracted lad that I am, witliout a 
heart in me bussum ! Oboo ! boo ! boo ! " 

" And wbo can tell, Paddy, but tbo cbild's 
innocent prattle may win yer mastbcr away 
from bis frolics with thim outidy urcliiiis 
across the road? He's such a loon about 
childcr, the poor, foolish man! We'll kape 
tlie boy that swate and clano that the very 
minister himself could take him on his knee 
and kiss him." 

"Dado will ye," replied Paddy, looking 
proudly at the pretty, bright boy. "But 
what about the religion, though?" he asked, 
as the disadvantages of the offer began to sug- 
gest themselves. " His riverence will bate the 
life out o' me if I suffer him to be tached yon 
'Simbly's Catechism and the ten Protestajit 
commandmints." 

" Paddy, if we takes 1 'm for our child, he'll 
be namei Johnny Sheehan, and the priest will 
have no more to say aboot him nor he does 
aboot Mr. Murray's boys. And Paddy, I 
belave yer bearin' false witness agin Father* 







am, witliout a 
30 ! hoo!" 
jut tho child's 
masthcr away 
jutidy urchins 
a loon about 
! We'll kape 
that the very 
ax on his knee 

?addy, looking 
\, boy. "But 
I ? " he asked, 
r began to sug- 
30 will bate the 
be tachcd you 
tea Protostapt 

our child, he'll 
I the priest will 
im nor he does 
And Paddy, I 
ss agin Father* 



FAMINE AND DEATH. 



115 



Clakcy. Ycr masther will tell him whin nixt 
he gocH by, that we've taken little Pat for our 
child, and had him new named." 

So little Pat was stripped of his beggar's 
garb, dressed like a farmer's child, and i)laced 
on a high stool of John's manufacture, at the 
table. Ho at once began to call Peggy " mam- 
my," and John " daddy ; " and being almost a 
stranger to his father, he now called him 
" Paddy Mannon," as every body else did> 
Whenever John came in from the field the 
little fellow would run to meet him ; and when 
he was seated in the cottage, he would climb 
on his knee, and putting his arms round his 
nock, call liira " pretty daddy," and ask, " May 
mo ride donkey ? What did old donkey 
say ? " Then John would tell long stories of 
what tho donkeys, cows and ducks asked about 
" the now little lambie that had come to. the 
cottage, with black wool on his head and red 
roses on his checks ! " John taught him to 
count, and to tell the names of coin, and to 
whistle ; Peggy taught him tho command- 
ments, and the words of Jesus, " Suffer tho 



116 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



li 
V, 

I 



little children to come unto Me, for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven." Before ho had been 
there a week, whistles, tin carts, a jumping- 
jack and a drum, — trifles which liad never 
before found tlieir way to Killyrooko, were 
scattered over Peggy's kitchen-floor, and John 
never went to town but he brought homo sonio 
toy, about as new- and surprising to him and 
Paddy as to the boy. All three agreed tliat a 
child was a wonderful thing for making sun- 
shine in a cottage. 

One day, before poor Meg had been a week 
in her grave, Peggy went out of the cottage, 
leading little Johnny by the hand, to feed the 
poultry. As she neared the stile which, led 
from the garden into a barley-field, she saw 
Paddy mounted on the topmost rail, mending 
his corduroy breeches with a darning needle 
and twine, and singing, with the full power of 
his lungs — and that is saying a great deal — 

•• Norra is a fine gerl, 

Cbakcs liko the rose, , , 

People tbiiik t:Ue is the quane, 

Every wliere slic goes! 

O, tlio flower of Tippcrary! •• 




f such is tho 
3 lidd been 
a jumpiiig- 
liad never 
rooko, were 
r, and John 
. home some 
to him and 
;reed that a 
aaking sun- 
been a week 
the cottage, 
, to feed tho 
which, led 
3ld, she saw 
ail, mending 
'ning needle 
ill power of 
-cat deal — 



srary!" 



" 0, Paddy, Paddy," cried Peggy, « that's 
puroly not ye, singing yon foolish song ! What 
were ye and the priest doin' but a few days 
agonc in tho churchyard ?" 

" Ilooly nu)tlier ! " cried Paddy, springing 
from tlie stile and throwing up both hands in 
surprise, " Sure I'd forgot ontirely that Meg 
was dead at all ! Ye don't think, dear mis- 
thress, that she'll come back to haunt me for 
singin' aboot the 'Flower o' Tipperary ' ? Be- 
lavo mo that I've not at all made up me mind 
aboot another wife yet, or even whether I'll 
take one or not ; and why would I, miserable 
man that I am, when the wide warld hasn't 
another like lier ? Where would I iver find 
one so strong as she, that would nivor ask me 
for the price o' a peck o' male in the year, 
but take all the care o' hersilf and her boy, 
and buy all my tobaccy beside ! Oohoo ! 
Oohoo ! How'U I iver live in the arth 
without me jewel Meg?" and he wrung his 
hands, and wept and groaned pitoously. 
i His grief, however, was soon spent, and he 
sprang up on tho stilo again and resumed his 



n! 



118 



GKM8 OF THE BOO. 



mending with as much spirit as if no great 
SOI row was on him. Paddy loved his friends 
Avhilo they were with him, but "out of sight" 
they were soon " out of mind," and he was as 
jolly and contented as if he had never known 
them. 

Peggy suflFered some anxiety about the com- 
panions with whom little Johnny would 
mingle when he could no longer be kept at 
her side. Her heart shrank from his hearing 
an oath or witnessing the brawls of the neigh- 
boring children. Nan, who had not yet been 
murdered by her parents, as she had predicted 
she would be, often brought over her mother's 
baby, a bright, plump creature, neat to a 
marvel, for him, to play with Johnny, and 
occasionally took her seat, uninvited, at the 
supper-table. This, of course, yexed Peggy, . 
but she bore it meekly, bei..g too much afraid 
of Nan to forbid her visits. 

The good woman's fears for little Johnny's 
future were all needless. For one short year 
he made sunshine in the cottage, and then 
came a sickuoss which gave no alarm till too 



.iuatriiinnia c " 



if no great 
I his friends 
ut of sight" 
d he was as 
never known 

»ut the com- 
hnny would 
V be kept at 
his hearing 
)f the noigh- 
iiot yet been 
ad predicted 
lier mother's 
, neat to a 
Johnny, and 
vited, at the 
exed Peggy, . 
much afraid 

;tle Johnny's 
short year 
ro, and then 
ilarm till too 



late for help , and soon his prattle was hushed 
in doath. And again the cottage was silent. 

Peggy wept as if Jier heart would break ; 
and yet she blamed John for his boisterous 
grief, saying, "Don't let yer neighbors say, 
dear, that ye wail louder for a beggar's baby 
iior for yer own holy mother! Thank God 
with me, John, that the little darlin's safe 
with Himself, rather than us taken and him 
left in the hands o' poor, careless Paddy. 
Heaven will bo more liko our home, John, 
now that we've both our mother and our child 
there." 

Heaven was to John a place very far off; 
and he gave little thought to it — or, indeed, 
to any thing beyond his home-work and his 
crops. So, after a sad week or two, he was 
the same as before ho had found and lost the 
child. . 

Wliile John and Peggy were weeping over 
the little cold form lying on Mammy Honey's 
bed — now a sacred place — Paddy was flying 
about with an excited business air, making 
arrangements for the funeral, and comforting 



' >. 



" l\ 



1'30 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 




Peggy and John as if lie lilinsclf had no part 
iu the afllicliou. He had given the child 
away, therefore his death wus nothing which 
particularly concerned hira. 




Iiad no part 
t the child 
thing which 



CHAPTER XI. 



A QBEAT SOBROW. 



"VrOT a week had passed, after the death of 
11 little Johnny, when Paddy saw his mas- 
ter tossing coppers among the little O'Gor- 
mans, and stepping up behind him, said, 
"Yo'd better quit that, Marsther John. 
Remember what ye promised by the deathbed 
o' yer mother, and kapo clare o' the villyaus 
altogether." 

« Yer right, Paddy, I'll do that," replied 
John, " and not grieve poor Peggy, that likes 
the whole race so ill." 

Peggy had had but little time to weep for 
Johnny, when a message came by the post- 
chaise that Mammy Honey's sister, an aged 
and friendless woman, lay on her deathbed ; 
and begging that Peggy would come to her at 

'^<--- -.- 191 " 



i'i 



i.i 



■P**"^' 





122 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



once. Seventy miles away ! It seemed to her 
as far, and attended with as many dangers, as 
a voyage round the world would to us. But 
duty called ; and so the timid woman prepared 
to face the world, and make her way to Bal- 
dorgan. 

John and Paddy both promised her to 
attend faithfully to the kitchen and the dairy 
till her return ; and, with some misgivings as 
to the fate of the poultry, Peggy set off, weep- 
ing at the thought of leaving her " ilegant 
home and John," even for a few weeks. 

" Now, Paddy," she said, as he grasped her 
hand at parting, " mind I bid yo be tinder and 
respictful to all the cows when yo're a milkin', 
but partic'lar to the Maid o' Longford ; for yo 
know that ye'ro often impatient when she lifts 
her foot, and spakos in ways that hurts her 
feclin's." 

«« I'll bear that in mind, thin," said Paddy, 
" and good luck go with yo and bring ye spady 

home." 

For four weeks Peggy ministered to her 
aged fricud before she died, and thea followed 



R 



enied to hor 
dangers, as 
to us. But 
an prepared 
way to Bal- 

sed her to 
id the dairy 
lisgivings as 
et off, weep- 
er " ilogant 
seks. 

grasped her 
tinder and 
re a milkin', 
;ford ; for yo 
lien she liflts 
it hurts her 

said Paddy, 
•ing ye spady 

tored to her 
.hea followed 



A ORE AT SORROW. 



118 



her to the grave, a solitary mounior She 
ahuost flew at tlie tliought of home, now that 
bIic was released. JSIjo could not wait twenty- 
four hours for the post-chaise that passed 
through the village where she was, but walked 
five hours to meet one which went sooner from 
the next town. All the way along the dusty 
road she was drawing bright pictures of her 
home, whicli never seemed so beautiful to her 
as when absent from it ; and her heart beat 
proudly at the thought of the Welcome await- 
ing her. Tlio post-chaise stopped at Cloyn- 
mally, and she had then a long walk to Killy- 
rooke, for no letter had announced hor 
coming. It was late in the afternoon when 
she opened the rude gate that led into the 
garden ; and, seeing Ihe cottage door open, she 
concluded tliat John was at home, and stopped 
very lightly, Ijoping to give him a joyful sur- 
prise. Slie was suddenly startled by what she 
fancied to be the hum of Mammy Honey's flax 
wheel! She stopped, and whispered, " Can it 
bo that she's come back to watch over him she 
loved, when I'm away ? But there's the voice 



I 



I 



124 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



though ! 



Not the holy song o' heaven, 
Och, my heart ! my heart ! " 
Entering the cottage, she saw a spectacle 
which scut the blood from her cheek and lips 
back to her heart ; and, almost fainting, she 
sank into the nearest chair and dropped her 
hands helplessly at her sides. 

There, at " yon blissed little flax-wheel," sat 
Nan O'Gorman, spinning, and singing — 

•• The world's a bid o' rosea. 
With nivor ft thorn for me." 

Peggy only groaned ; for tlic power of utter- 
ance was gone. She fixed her eyes on Nau, 
and had not strength to remove them, much as 
she strove to do so. 

The brazen face flushed under hor gaze, and 
Nan said, " Don't be goin' wild, now, Peggy, 
because a poor abused girl has taken shelter 
beneath the ruff" where ye'vo had years o* 
plinty. Ye hadn't a home always ; and the 
copy-book o' the schoolmasther says, ' Turn 
aboot is fair play.' And don't be blamin' 
John, ather, for it's not by his askin' but o' 
my own will tj^at I'm here kapin' his house 




miii 



A GREAT SORROW. 



125 



o' hcavon, 
t!" 

a spectacio 
3ck and lips 
aintiug, she 
J popped her 

-wheel," sat 
iug — 



«rer of utter- 
yrcs oil Nau, 
im, much as 

t 

3r gaze, and 
now, Peggy, 
laken shelter 
lad years o* 
ys ; and the 



says, 



Turn 



be blainin' 
iskin' but o' 
u' his house 



and cookin' his food in ycr absiiico. Indado, 
ho bid mo away at the first, but ycrsclf knows 
rinnotcisy disposed of " — and sl>c lauglicd. 
" Paddy Mannon, that loves ye more nor he 
docs the Virgin, has refused to ate wliat I 
cooks, and biles his own porridge beside tlio 
old cow-liouse. So it's none o' his doin's, but 
all my own. I'll work under your hand, 
Peggy, and lot yo still bo the misthrcss ; but 
Tm to bide here; tljat's settled, and it's not in 
ycr power to drive me off! Are yo turned to 
stone, Peggy ? Yo scare me witli yer wild 
eyes and yer wliite face." 

" Nan," replied Peggy, faintly, « tho same 
thatch can nivor cover ye and mo ! May God 
forgivo ye as free as Ho pities me this day ! " 

She tlien rose, and witli an unsteady step 
passed tlu-ough the garden towards tho old 
cow-liouse, where she found Paddy making a 
peat fire on a pile of stones, to cook his 
supper. 

Wlien he saw her, he turned away his face as 
if ho could not meet her eyes; and bursting 
into tears, he sobbed out. " Ocli, och ! that 



¥ 



I 



1 ' 



126 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

was an evil day when yc left us and quit 
watchin' him! The sarpint with the human 
face is crawlin' round ycr kitchen ; but as sure 
as I'm Paddy Mannon I'll give it a blow that'll 
send it out, if yo'll bide aisy till I docs it ! " 

« No, Paddy, if she do not depart this night, 
I will on the morrow. Why ever did God 
take Mammy Honey to heaven when she was 
so sore naded on arth ! But He's wilcome to 
her, for all. I'll not grudge her to Him, nor 
yet will I resist the rod in His ha»»d! 0, 
Paddy, it was well this didn't come afore I got 
the great light in my soul ! Himself was de- 
spised and rcjicted o' men, and why not me, 
His unworthy disciple? Himself hadn't a 
where to lay His head, and why should I have 
this lovely home ? I remembers how he drank 
the vinegar and gall, and I'll just drink it too, 
'stead o' deraandin' the swate milk I've had so 
long. Dear Mr. Murray said God was fillin' 
my soul with Himself to prepare me for some 
great thing — little I dreamed o' this! If 
John was dead and lyin' beside the darlin' 
mother, what joy would fill my heart, aside o' 




IS and q\iit 
tho Imiiiau 
but as sure 
blow that'll 
iocs it ! " 
•t tliis uigl>t, 
'cr did God 
len slio was 
I wilcomo to 
to Him, nor 
I ha»»d ! O, 
3 aforo I got 
Qself was do- 
why not mo, 
If hadn't a 
hould I have 
low he drank 
drink it too, 
c I've had so 
)d was fiUin' 
me for some 
o' this! If 
3 the darlin' 
eart, aside o' 



A GREAT SORROW. 



Iff 



losin' him this way — soul and all. But IIo 
opened not His mouth, and nather will I. I'll 
not add sin to sorrow by holding words with 
any aboot it ; but strive to lane my soul on 
God, who is the husband o' the widow — and 
I'm a widow, now, Paddy ! " 

Still Paddy sobl)ed, but managed to tell his 
mistress how he had abused the usurper, taunt- 
ing her with all the evil he had ever heard of 
her race, "from her great-grandfather, who 
was a poacher, to her uncle, who was 'mi- 
grated off to Australy." He told hew he, in 
virtue of his prophetic office as serpent-slayer, 
had taken Nan by the shoulder the day she 
came, and put her out o' doors, and got his 
eyes nearly scratched out in return, which con- 
vinced him that he could do nothing at present 
but " make up grimaces behind her back — 
which same was a relief to himself, though no 
harm to her." 

Not a tear moistened Peggy's eye, but her 
anguish betrayed itself in her pallid face and 
her hoarse, tremulous tones. Looking at the 
sinking sun, she said, " Paddy, I'll sit down in 



ffefeigwi 





; ' 



128 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



the cow-house till yer supper's done. Then go 
ye for the cows, for I'm homesick to see the 
dear craturs — thorn, without the light o' rea- 
son or holy tachiu', is faithful to mo still." 

To show his devotion, tho weeping Paddy 
threw his suppur violently on the ground, de- 
claring that ho was " not the man to ate cou- 
tint when the life was bein' crushed out o' his 
misthross!" And taking a great shilalah, 
which he carried to fight imaginary foes, ho 
set off for the pasture. Peggy remained mo- 
tionless, as if bound by a feariul spell, save 
that now and then she lifted her eyes lieavou- 
ward, and whispered a prayer for support and 
comfort. 

Peggy was aroused from the stupor of 
anguish by heavy foot-falls on the sward, as 
Paddy drew near with his charge. He was 
still weeping bitterly and telling the cows, 
between his sobs, that a black cloud had fallen 
on Daisy Farm, and that the saints were all 
forsakin' it and lavin' it in the hands o' a sar- 
pint o' a woman and a goose o' a man. " And 
only for ye, dear cows," he said, " Pd go too, 



J 



A GREAT SORROW. 



129 



0. Then go 
Ic to SCO tho 
light o' rea- 
10 still." 
(ping Paddy 
ground, de- 
i to ato con- 
d out o' his 
lat shilalah, 
lary foes, ho 
?inained mo- 
l spell, save 
eyes heaven- 
support and 

stupor of 
he sward, as 
go. He was 
ig the cows, 
ud had fallen 
ints were all 
lands o' a sar- 
i man. " And 
" I'd go too, 



and follow tlie kind misthress all over the 
world, and aru her bread for her. Slie's afeared 
to look at a stranger, but Paddy Mannon is not 
— nor a hundred o' 'era." 

Peggy rose up as the cows approached her, 
and throwing her arms around the neck of a 
silver-gray cow, tl«e " Maid o' Longford," 
Avhich had been Mammy Honey's last gift to 
her, she burst into a flood of blessed tears. She 
pressed )icr chock against the silvery neck and 
said, " Och, little ye knows, innocent thing, o' 
my sorrow ! I, tliat has fed ye so free, has 
notliing to ato myself! I, that has loved ye so 
tinderly, has not a one in all the world to lovo 
mo ! Ye don't know that ye are no longer 
mine — that ye'll see me no more, nor hear my 
soft voice that niver give yo a hasty word, — 
Oclj, my poor heart ! "' 

" Will ye tak' a stool and milk her ? " asked 
Paddy. 

" No, Paddy, there's nather power in my 
hand nor yet in my heart for that," Peggy 
re[tlied ; *' but I'll look at ye doin' it, and say 
what I'd like while we're alone. Ye have iver 








130 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



been a faithful boy to rao, and nivor onco garo 
mo an omispictful word. I'd wish to thank ye 
for all yor love in tho past. Yo'ro the only 
friend I have now, Paddy, that I can spake to. 
Ycr niasthor promised God and his mother that 
he'd stand 'twixt mc and throublc while he had 
life in him. But now it is himself that's put a 
Bpear in my heart ! Peggy Shoohan's not tho 
woman to 'bide in a house and quarrel ; and 
iiathor is she the one to stand silent and sec 
her husband's heart stole from hor and his 
honor destroyed ontircly ! Ye can do mo one 
more service, Paddy dear," — she had never 
addressed him thus before — " and may be it'll 
be tho last yer poor friend will over ask." 

" And what's that, misthress, darlin' Y I hope 
it's to murther Nan, and then fly off to Ameriky 
or some other pagan country ! " 

" No, Paddy ; do her no evil ; lave hor with 
God," answered Peggy. " Pd wish ye to be 
at tho gate to-morrow morning afore the sun 
peeps over tho bog, to meet mo. And mind, 
yo're nivor to spake my name to himself till tli" 
day comes when his heart is broke for his sins 



""Uti 




ftM 



A GREAT SORROW. 



131 



r onco garo 
to thank ye 
ro the only 
n spake to. 
mother that 
trhilo ho had 
that's put a 
m's not tiio 
uarrel ; and 
3nt and see 
lior and his 
[1 do mo one 
5 had never 
may bo it'll 
)r ask." 
ilin' 'i I hope 
F to A me r iky 

TO her with 
sh ye to be 
fore the sun 
And mind, 
rnself till tlm 
) for hiH sins 




agin God and his poor lovin' wife. Mind what 
I say, Paddy, my name is a forbidden word ! 
I'd wish ye to do ycr duty to yer raasther and 
to the craturs ; but it'll bo a great comfort to 
me if yo'll still 'bide in the cow-house and not 
countenance yon cruel woman when I'm gone." 

" I'll starvre first ! But where are ye goin' ? 
Ye've not a friend or a kin left that ye can 
make free with, now that the old Doaues is 
dead," replied Paddy. 

" I have health yet, and can toil even with a 
broken heart, Paddy. I'll seek a sarvico place, 
for I could niver live where John war not 
honored and rispected. And now I must gather 
heart to go into tho cottage, for I must turn 
keys on a few things not to be touched by on- 
holy hands.'' 

" Keys ! " cried Paddy, scorn''ully. " What's 
thim good for when the likes o' her's about? 
Didn't she wear Mammy Honey's best shawl to 
Ned Givin's wake the last week ? And hasn't 
tho old mother the duffel gray cloak over there 
now ! " *. 

Poggy throw up her hands and uttered a 



r 



ilH t 



i^ 



132 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



sharp cry; then clasping thcin tightly over 
her heart she said imploringly, " Please, dear 
man, tell me no more, or I'll be driven wild 
and lose my hold on God! It's all over 
with my happiness in this world ; but I'm a 
small cretur' to be thinkin' of, when John's 
Boul is at stake, and all KiUyrooko setting tliis 
great sin down agin our blissed religion and 
stumbling over it ! " 

Poggy rose to go into the cottage. As she 
turned the corner of the cow-house, she saw 
John standing there as if waiting for her. She 
did not raise her eyes ; but ho joined her, and 
after a moment's silence said, » Ye're welcome 

home, Peggy." 

Still she did not speak, but her deathly 
countenance betrayed, the struggle going on 
within. " Jewel," ho said, after a great effort, 
" this is none o' my doin's. She came into the 
cottage the day after ye left, for shelter from 
the abuse o' her mother. And once hero, she 
took all into her hands ! She would nathor go 
for my beggin' nor yet for Paddy's abuse ; but 
now ye are come back to us as are the mistliress, 



^IL, 



A QUE AT SORPOVr. 



lU 



tightly over 
Please, dear 
driven wild 
t's all over 
; but I'm a 
rlieu John's 
I setting tltis 
religion and 

ago. As sho 
use, sho saw 
[qv her. Slio 
ned her, and 
e'ro welcome 

hor deathly 
glo going on 
\ great effort, 
jamo into tho 

shelter from 
nee hero, she 
iild nathor go 
r's abuse ; but 
tho niisthress, 



ye can send her off yerself. Ye know, Peggy, 
Pm a great sheep, and could never spake a 
rough word to a woman — though she were an 
evil one." 

Peggy found breath to say, " No, John, I 
shall never bid her away ! My neighbors shall 
not see mo doing what my husband should do, 
and then taunt mo with it ! And more nor 
tliat, I doubt if even ye can drive her out now. 
She tolls me ye have promised her a home, 
wliinever sho wills to 'bide here ! And the 
same thatch couldn't cover us two ! O, John, 
John, why did Mammy Honey lay that fearful 
cliurge on me, when she' said, ' Bring him to 
mo at last ; I'll expect tliat of ye, Peggy.' " 

And saying this, sho closed her eyes and 
passed through the kitclicn, whore Nan was 
singing as sho spread the simple board for sup- 
per, into her mother's little room, and drew 
tho wooden bolt behind hor. Sho threw herself 
into tho rude oaken chair, laid hor cheek on 
tho pillow, and gave way to a flood of tears, 
mingled with pruyOiS to Heaven for strength. 
Her plaintive tones, echoing through tho low 



f 



134 



GEMS OF Tim BOO. 



rooms of tho cottage, were enough to melt a 
heart of stone.- 

John followed her to tho door ; hut he was 
too great a coward, — sin makes even the 
bravest men cowards, — to ask her pardon, and 
thrust the intruder forth. Ho stood there 
weeping ; and when called, ho refused to eat his 
supper. He spoke harshly to Nan, asking her 
if she were not ashamed to turn a pure-hearted 
wife out of her own house. But she only 
laughed in his face, and replied that she was 
quite willingto allow Peggy back, and had even 
offeref* to let her be mistress still ! 

All night John sat in the kitchen or walked 
tho floor, listening to the sobs and prayers of 
his wife, planning reforms to begin with tho 
light, and promising to atone with redoubled 
kindness for his faithlessness and cruelty. 
Alas, poor, irresolute man ! Ho did not take 
into account his own weakness, nor the strength 
of the foe ; nor yet was ho prepared for tho 
courage with which Christian principle and 
womanly pride had armed tho timid creature 
he bad so deeply wronged. ^ 



I to melt a 



; but he was 
s even the 
pardon, and 
stood there 
cd to cat his 
I, asking her 
pure-licarted 
fc she only 
lat she was 
nd had even 

n or walked 
i prayers of 
;iu with the 
;h redoubled 
md cruelty, 
lid not take 
the strength 
tared for the 
rinciple and 
aid creature 



CHAPTER XII. 



HOMELESS. 



AT break of day Peggy looked out of the 
little glass window, — the pride of the 
cottage, — and saw Paddy leaning against the 
gate, awaiting her. She waved her handker- 
chief to him, and he approached her with 
swollen eyes, whicli tol how little ho had slept 
and how much he had wept. She passed to 
him her little blue box or trunk, the only 
thing she had brought with her to her new 
homo when a bride. It now contained the few 
articles of clothing she had bought with her 
own spinning-money; for she shrank from 
taking any tiling given her by John, now that 
he had suffered the serpent with a human face 
to " put a space between their two hearts." 

This done, the meek creature passed 
through the kitchen, — where John still sat 

135 



136 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



II 



sleeping, — without stirring tlio air. SIio 
dared not look at him, lest her strength might 
fail her. 

Before she joined Paddy at the gate, she 
went round to the glass window and plucked a 
sprig of the sweet brier tliat overhung it. 
This she pressed for a moment to her lips, and 
then laid it in the folds of a fresh handker- 
chief and hid it in her bosom like a " charm." 

As Peggy looked at her poor friend, an in- 
voluntary smile passed over her pale face. IIo 
had dressed himself in Daddy Slioehan's 
clothes, to honor the occasion, and was almost 
buried in them. " Dear man,' she exclaimed, 
" why do ye make such a figure o' yersilf 
when I cannot laugh as I once did at ye ! 
I've told yo a score o' times to take you 
clotlies to Jock, the tailor, and have them 
made to fit ye. Yo look like a harlequin ! " 
And sj he did ; for tlie tails of the blue coat 
barely cleared the ground, and the pockets 
behind, graced with huge brass buttons, woro 
a foot and a half below their proper place. 
The breeches were pushed up in grout lieavy 



HOMELESS. 



137 



air. SIio 
iiigth might 

le gate, she 
d plucked a 
vcrhung it. 
jcr lips, and 
ih haudlcer- 
a " charm." 
'lend, an in- 

face. IIo 
Shochan's 

was almost 

1 exclaimed, 
e o' yersilf 

did at ye ! 
take you 

have them 
larlequiu ! " 
le blue coat 
the pockets 
iittons, wore 
roper place, 
groat liouvy 



folds to make them short enough to hackle at 
the knee, and the sleeves were rolled half way 
to the elbow. " Why don't ye do my biddin* 
about the clothes ? " she repeated. 

" Because it would be a great refiiction on 
the old masther ; the same as sayiu' he didn't 
have them made right at first! And more; 
if they fitted me, people would only say, * See 
Paddy Mannon's new shute ! ' , and never 
think o' the honor that was haped on me by 
gittin' them willed to me. Now they say, 
' See Paddy Mannon in the fine ould masther's 
Sunday shute. How yon family honors that 
lad ! ' 'Dade I'll just wear them as they is, for 
his sake and my own," answered Paddy. 

Paddy shouldered the blue box, remarking, 
" It's a dale lighter than it war the day yo 
came first to us, and I lifted it out o' the 
new donkey-cart." 

" Yes, poor man," replied Peggy, " I'm like 
Naomi o' old ; I came in here full o' pros- 
perity and blissed with hapes o' love, but I go 
forth empty of arthly good ! But I'm rich for 
all this, Paddy ! I feel just now as I did tho 



138 



GEifS OF THE BOO. 



il 



% V 



day I gave Mammy Honey and every thing 
else up for Christ's sake ! The great peace 
lias come on me again with new power. I can 
not only give vip mother, and house, and land, 
but even him that's dearer nor all, at the 
Master's biddin'. And I'm quite contint in 
belaviu' that the Judge o' the whole arth will 
do right, though one poor heart mar break by 
the way lie does it." 

"Well, misthress, darlin',*' sobbed Paddy, 
" I'm glad yer not ravin' wild with the throu- 
ble, but I'd be better plazed if ye'd show a 
little more sperit ! Spcrit is a fine thing in f* 
woman. I'd hoped that ye'd bo roused up a 
little afore ye left, so that ye'd break the look- 
Mi' glass, and the windy, and the red and 
white dishes, and burn up the linen that them 
blissed hands spun and wove, afore she'd eor 

joy thim." 

"No, Paddy, there's no revinge in my 
heart; but only sorrow and shame for the 
masther; and for Nan — well, Heaven pity 
her, and bring her to repmtanco aforo death 
cornea." 



HOMELESS. 



139 



every thing 
great peace 
)wer. I can 
se, and land, 
all, at the 
) contiut in 
ole artli will 
aar break by 

ibbed Paddy, 
\\ the throu- 

ye'd show a 
ne thing in ft 

roused up a 
eak the look- 
the red and 
en that them 
fore she'd en- 

einge in my 

lame for tlie 

Heaven pity 

9 aforo death 



" What ! and so she bo let into heaven ? " 
exclaimed Paddy. " I'll not put a foot into it 
myself if she's there ! 'Dade Pll not ! I 
thinks too much o' myself to be in ony place 
where she'll be ! " 

Peggy had no time now for either instruc- 
tion or controversy, for she was in haste to 
reach Cloynmally, where a wagoner stopped 
on his way to the distant city. She chose to 
ride on the high seat with him, rather than in 
tlie post-chaise, where she would have to look 
strangers in the face, and hear conversation 
which might distract her mind. 

As they came up to the little Presbyterian 
church and burying-ground, Peggy said, " Yo 
sit down on the roadside till I pluck a sham- 
rock blossom off the grave, and thank God that 
He tuk her to Himself from the evil to come. 
0, Paddy, liow lovely the grave looks ! And, 
dear man, I'll trust ye to bring me back and 
lay me beside her if I dies away." 

" I'll do that same, even if ye'd 'migrate to 
Ameriky, and I'd have to wade the Atlantic 





140 



GE3rS OF THE BOO. 



ocean and bring yo back in my arms — I'd do 
it — wonld I ! But wherc'll I ever find ye ?" 
"Paddy, a lady tiiat Mammy Honey's old 
sister nursed when a baby, came to see her, 
and to bring the pension the family 'lowed her, 
when I was there. They always looked after 
her and loved her, though they had removed 
far away. The lady was that thankful for my 
tinderness that she asked rao would I go to the 
great city with her and mind her fable ould 
mother ? I told her I had no nado o' sarvice, 
but was the richest, and proudest, and hap- 
piest wife in our town. Slie'd bo to make me 
take a guinea as a keepsake, 1 that, with 
throe Mammy Honey gave i ven years 

agono to keep agin a rainy day, is what I has 
for my journey now. This lady. Miss Grey, 
said, at partin', ' Well, Misthress Sheehan, I'm 
glad yc're so comfortable ; but none knows 
what's afore 'em in life. If yo should iver 
nadc a friend, come to me.' And she gave 
me a bit o' card with her name on't, and it's 
to her I'm goin'." 



tjium 



^ 



nOMELESS. 



141 



irms — I'd do 
or find ye ? " 

Honey's old 

to see her, 
ly 'lowed her, 
; looked after 
had removed 
ankful for my 
Id I go to the 
icr fable ould 
do o' sarvice, 
est, and hap- 
c to make me 

1 that, with 

Ten years 

is what I has 

r, Miss Grey, 

Slieelian, I'm 

none knows 
e should iver 
knd she gave 
5 on't, and it's 



" Give mo the name o' her place ; and after 
the next harvest I'll call and find ye out, and 
8|)ind a week with ye. May bo there might be 
a horse-race or a 'fair' aboot tliat time; and 
if so, I'll kill two birds with one stone," ex- 
claimed Paddy, with animation. 

Peggy could not help smiling at such folly. 

" I'm to be a sarvant there, Paddy, and will 
have nather room nor wilcome for guests. I'll 
tell ye where Miss Grey is, if ye nade mo ; but 
mind, it's to be buried in yer own heart ; for 
I'd not wish another one to know where I be." 

" Nor will they, ather. Hasn't yo sint word 
to Mr. Murray ? " asked Paddy. 

" IIow could I revale to him the disgrace o' 
this son o' the righteous ? If he asks for me, 
make my respicts to him, and tell him the 
peace o' God, that he'd so. often implored on 
tis all, was 'bidin' on me when I loft home," 
said Peggy. 

" He came to the cottage when you were 
gone, to inquire into the evil reports he'd 
heerd-; but the coward o' a man saw him, and 
run off into the farthest barley-field, and 



l^ 



"■•'&' 




142 



0SM8 OF THE BOO. 



wasn't to be found ; and so did Father Clakey 
come to the gate. Nan went to the dc)or and 
dropt a low curshey, and asked, ' Will yer riv- 
erence come in ? ' 

""Deed I will not, ye brazen-faced maid,' 
says he. • I'll not put my consecrated feet into 
a house where ye are like a thafo and a 
robber ! Go off to sarvice and am yer honest 
bread, afore ye break a kind woman's heart. 
I'm to rade ye out o' tlio church next day ; 
and I've sore work to keep my cane ofiF yer 
shoulders ! ' So himself doesn't countonanco 
her no more nor Mr. Murray," said Paddy. 

" No ; he's a dacent oold man, and does us 
well as he knows, may be," re;^lied Peggy. 
" Now mind, I've trusted the powltry and the 
craturs all with ye, and be faithful, and spoke 
soft to thim. But, Oh me, there'll be no prayei 
in the cottage! Ye and Nan may mumble 
over yer beads; but Jolm will not dare to 
pray, sore as he nadc? marcy. I'd bid ye lave, 
were it not that John has a soul. Ye watch 
for tlie first sigh o' penitence, and manewhiles 
I'll pray day and niglit that God will take hia 







Father Clakey 
the dc)or and 
' Will ycr riv- 

jn-faced maid,' 
crated feet into 
a thafe and a 
am yer honest 
woman's heart, 
irch next day ; 
ly cane ofiF ycr 
.'t countonanco 
said Paddy, 
in, and does us 
rc;^lied Peggy, 
powltry and the 
hful, and spoke 
p'll be no prayei 
1 may mumble 
ill not dare to 
I'd bid ye lave, 
(ul. Ye watch 
and manewhiles 
)d will take hia 



■^;; 



-f- 



[ 



IPT" 



If I 



n 




/Tft^MbWk^' 



peoot's ooou-dyk to paddy. 



nOMELESS. 



143 



-Jf^-' ■[ 



ffict out o' the net afore he die ; and if so bo, 
who knows but He'll let mo bring him safe 
to hor at last, as kIio bid me." 

" There's poor tokens on't," replied Paddy. 

" But what a lovin' father God is, that Ho 
tuk little Johnny to Himself afore this," said 
Peggy. 

" So Ho is, too," answered Paddy ; " but I 
hears the great, lumberiu' whales o' the 
carrier." 

The wagon now rolled heavily up the road, 
and was stopped in answer to the call of 
Paddy, who reached up the blue box to tho 
driver. 

Giving Peggy his hand to assist her to a 
scat beside him, tho man said, " Yor for an 
carl^ start, good wife;" and then looked in 
amazement at her, as, leaning down from hor 
porch, she grasped the rough hand ol her poor 
friend, and exclaimed, " May the Lord x-eward 
ye for yer love and pity to mo with the salva- 
tion o' yor soul, dear man. God in heaven 
bliss ye, Paddy Mannon ! " 



■:^ia|i?|B«fK3^,.- 



^ 



ii 



w 



144 



OEMS OF TEE BOO. 




" Am I takiii' a body to the ' Lunatics ' ? " 
asked tlio wagoner. 

" 'Dade yc'io not, but to a fine lady's houao, 
as a nurse, my man ! But she's a dale throu- 
bled about laving her ilegant homo. So do yo 
be tinder o' her, or I'll take ycr life next day," 
said Paddy. 

The man rolled out a rough oath, and laid 
the lash heartily on the backs of his heavily- 
laden horses. 

«* Dear man," cried Peggy, " don't give an 
onnadeful pang to any tiling God has made. 
We and the dumb craturs is all His work, 
and all sufferers, too, under the hand o' man. 
Be marciful to thim as Ho is marciful to us." 

And they drove off, leaving Paddy wailing 
and sobbing on the roadside. 




[iunatics ' ? " 

lady's lioufit), 

I dale ihrou- 
0. So do yo 
next day," 

itli, and laid 
his heavily- 

lon't give an 
)d has made. 

II His work, 
and o' man. 
rciful to us." 
uddy wailing 



u 



CHAPTER Xin. 

SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 

IT'S heavy whaling the day, misthress," 
said the wagoner, by way of opening a 
conversation with his passenger ; " and I fear 
we'll not see Baldargie, where I halts for the 
night, till the moon be riz." 

Turning to receive an answer, he saw Peggy 
wiping the tears from her pale cheek, and his 
kind heart was touched. 

"You've lost ycr sarvice place, poor 
thing ! " he said ; '« but I'm just sure by yer 
looks it was no fault o' yer own ; ye must 
keep up heart, for all will turn out for the best 
in the end. There's a better place waitin' yo 
nor the one ye've lost, and a kinder and 
feeliner misthress. I've lived more years by 
a dozen than ye, and my experience is, that 
there's a sartain amount o' luck for each one 

U5 10 



,,.;(,.;.;■.;>;!-■«■ -^bK;:- 



146 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



o' US. Some gets it all in a liape and has 
hard faro afterward; and some Rcts it 
sprinkled along throngh life. The last's been 
my lot. I've had hard work froaa a lad • up, 
till my back's been nigh broke at times ; but 
when I took a wife, then came luck to my 
door, for I got one that made the most o' the 
little I arued, and always met mo with a 
smile, whether my hand -vvas empty or full. 
By-and-by more luck come in the shape o' 
little folk; they came faster than the bread 
did, but they never lacked. If any went 
hungry, it was Molly and mo. In them days 
I saw nobody I envied ; but agin, our luck 
turned two ways at once. I got this team o' 
horses to drive, and fine pay. But when bread 
was plenty, the mouths grew scarce. The 
little darlin's dropped oflf, one followin' the 
other, till we counted four graves in the 
churchyard. Now we're alone, and sorrowful 
enough too. But as we've had a share o' 
good luck, we mustn't grumble. Your luck 
will turn with this journey, take my word 
for it! Why, dry yer eyes there; don't yor 



SOWmO BY THE WAYSIDE. 



147 



ipo and lias 
le gets it 
last's beoii 
a a lad -up, 
1 times; but 
luck to ray 
most o' the 
mo with a 
ipty oi* full, 
the shape o' 
111 the bread 
[f any went 
•\ them days 
in, our luck 
this team o' 
t when bread 
scarce. The 
foUowin' tho 
avea in the 
md sorrowful 
d a share o' 
, Your luck 
,ke my word 
ro; don't yor 



know its luck to ride with Barney's horses ? 
and if yer purse is low, my good girl, it will 
niver be a farthing lower for me. I'll give ye 
the ride and wilcome and say a good word 
for ye at tho cud o' the journey, where I puts 
up these seven year." 

" Yor too kind, friend," replied Peggy. 
*' If I was nady I'd accept yer offer as if yo 
was my brother ; but I've several guineas o' 
money, and a place to go into when I arrive in 
the great town." 

" Tlien I can't see what on arth makes ye 
cry. If yer a maid, yo cannot have buried 
husband or child," said the wagoner kindly. 

" Ah, sir, I've lost botli. I first buried tho 
swatest mother God iver gave a poor girl, and 
tlicn a dear Iambic o' a boy that I tuk mother- 
leas to my bussum. But them was small loss, 
because it was so asy to see God's hand in 
their goin'. I've lost the other now, but not 
in tho grave. Yer too kind to ask me more. 
Listen patient now, while I tell ye the idee I 
has about luck. I calls it ' Providence,' and 
vrhether it comes in sunshine or in black 




148 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



cloud, I sees God's face in it. I can say, with 
you holy David, 'Goodness and marcy have 
followed inc all the days o' my life,' for when 
God tuk all the others from me. Ho left Him- 
self. And, dear man, nobody can be poor or 
desolate as has Him in his soul, — Him that 
sticketh closer nor a brother. When I 
was livin' at my ase, Him that sees the end 
from the beginning was preparin' a table afore 
me in presence o' my inimies. And He it was 
that led ye, too, through both bog and pastur', 
that ye might see His hand and come and taste 
o' His love. He gave yer wife and babies m 
marcy, and Ho tuk the Iambics in the same 
marcy, to draw tho parents' heart after them. 
Don't, then, call yer joys and throubles ' luck,' 
like a hatl.en, but call them the dalins' o' God 

with ye." 

" Why, my good woman, ye're a Mothodis, 
sure. I nivor heerd the like talk from another 
but thim ! " cried the wagoner, looking in sur- 
prise at Peggy. f 

" I never seed a one o' them," she replied, 
" though I've heerd tell o' the Wesleys, and 



4Jjk 



!an say, with 

marcy have 

fe,' for whoa 

Ic left Him- 

i be poor or 

— Him that 

When I 

sees the eud 

a table afore 

[id He it was 

and pastur', 

>mc and taste 

nd babies in 

in the same 

t after them. 

mbles ' luck,' 

lalins' o' God 

a Mothodis, 
from another 
okiug in sur- 

' she replied, 
Wosleys, and 



SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 149 

knows a lovely hymn that one o' them writ 
about Jesus." 

And thus Peggy beguiled the way, talking 
in a manner almost miraculous for her, and 
leading tlie mind of her rough companion up 
to God. Before niglit fell she had heard liis 
history and given him hers, — all save the one 
sore point on which he was too delicate to 
question her. She had heard of the few praying 
Methodists in his native town, who, he said, 
" wore parsecutin' every body to be convarted 
like themselves, and goin' on as if religion 
was the importantist thing in tlio world. They 
had won little Billy over to their school, and 
Jerry too, afore they died, and had filled up 
their small heads with varses and hymns that 
came out in their dyin' breath ; and now 
they are tarned to parsecutin' me and my wife 
the same way, and she's a' most one o' 'em, 
— goin' to their prayers, and their sing- 
ings, and the like. But I never tuk much to 
thim things ; all the religion iver I had," he 
added, "was hathrod o' the Catholics,' and 
holdin' up my head with pride that I warn't 



150 



GEMS OF TUE BOO. 



born among thorn. Why, good woman, thim 
Methodises bclave that Papists may all be 
turned yet ; and they prays and prays for that, 
but they can't know the power o' the Pope and 
the priests." 

" Dear man, thim poor craturs, whoso brith 
is in their nostrils, is no more in God's hand 
nor the stubble afore the fire, and it's as asy 
for Him to bring the Pope off his throne into 
the dust, where he'll plade for mercy, as it 
would be to soften yer kind heart and bow it 
to His will," said Peggy. 

Then she told him of Mammy Honey's dy- 
ing prayers, and of her faith for poor Ireland ; 
and while on this theme, the wagon rolled up 
heavily into the paved yard of the " O'Con- 
nor's Arms Inn," where they were to rest for 
the night. 

Another day's ride brought them to the city 
whither they were bound. The wagoner re- 
fused to give the little blue box and its owner 
into any stranger's care. After attending to 
the animals, which he digniaed by the name 
of "harses," but which bore a remarkable 



SOWING BY TUB WAYSIDE. 



151 



roman, thim 
may all be 
ays for that, 
Ijc Pope and 

whoso brlth 
God's hand 

1 it's as asy 
throne into 

mercy, as it 

t and bow it 

' Honey's dy- 
poor Ireland ; 
;on rolled up 
the "O'Con- 
'0 to rest for 

m to the city 
I wagoner re- 
nd its owner 
attending to 
by the name 
a remarkable 



resemblance to the mule family, he shouldered 
the box, and, followed by Peggy, made his way 
to Bcrkely Terrace, with Miss Grey's card ia 
his band. 

Wlicn they reached the door and Peggy re.i<l 
" Grey " on the tliin, broad brass plate, she 
said, " And now we must part, friend. I 
tliank ye for yer goodness, so unlilce what I 
looked for at the startin', when I heerd an oath 
and saw the blow ye give the craturs ! Niver aa 
oatli did I hear from ye, nor yet a blow but that 
one. If ye don't love nor fear the Lord for Ilia 
own sake, plaze, for my sake, niver sware more. 
Look after yer soul, dear man ; and if iver ye 
or yer wife nade a friend,' Miss Grey will know 
where ye'Il find Peggy Siieehan. Farewell." 

Poor Miss Grey, herself far from young or 
strong, was engaged in her never-failing task 
of settling disputes between her feeble and 
cliildisli mother and an impatient nurse, when 
Peggy was announced as " a queer, dressed 
body witli a blue wood box in her arms." 

Entering her sitting-room, tlie lady was 
amazed to see a stranger standing there on a 



-aammmmmmlmimtlltUt 




GEMS OF THE BOO. 

pocket-handkerchief, holding a trunk in her 
arms, afraid to set it down lest she might in- 
jure the car|)et, never having trod on one be- 
fore. When the lady recognized her, she said, 
*' 0, Pogg}', have you changed your mind and 
left that elegant homo and that good husband 
to help me a little while? You've come iu 
an hour of need. Your visit is like an an- 
gel's. How long can you stay ? " 

" Wliilo yo uades me, dear lady, and I'll 
sarve the feeble one day and night, only don't 
ax me u question till I tell ye what's happened 
that sent me here." 

" Peggy, I have not left my mother's room 
for seven nights," silid Miss Grey. " Her 
nurso h^si no patienco and I must see that all 
are gentle with iicr." 

" jjh, butril have hapea o' patience, and 
yo may now slape asy, sure that I'll bo as 
til dci" o' hor as if she was the gentlest lady iu 
the world," said Peggy. 

And she fulfilled her promise a thousand- 
fold. She became a nurse to the mother, a 
comforter to the daughter, an example and a 




i^iH 



unk ill her 
3 might iu- 
l on one be- 
)r, she said, 
t* mind and 
)od husband 
re come iu 
like an an- 

iy, and I'll 
;, only don't 
's happened 

thor's room 



ey. 



Hop 



see that all 

Uience, and 

I'll bo as 

ilest lady in 

a thousand- 
3 mother, a 
tuple and n 



SOWIJya BY THE WAYSIDE. 



153 



teacher to the servants, — a blessing to the 
whole liouse ; in which we leave her for the 
present, striving to be faithful over a few 
things. 



-' !: 




% 



w 



CHAPTER XIV. 



MISERY IN THE COTTAGE 



ON Paddy's return to the cottage, after part- 
ing with his mistress on the wagon, break- 
fast was still waiting, although the hour was 
late. As ho sprang over the stile he heurd Nan 
call out from the door, " Yor breakfast is all 
coolin', John." John returned her no answer, 
but followed Paddy to his own quarters without 
raising his head or speaking. 

" A'n't ye for ony breakfast this morning, 
irasther ? " asked Paddy, assuming an air of 
jocosonchs. 

" Noi yet, Paddy ; I'll wait till Peggy comes," 
ho rci)liod. 

" Will yo ? Och, then, ye'U shtarvo to diih, 
I can promise yo that," replied Paddy, with a 
smart nod of his head. 

*' Do yc know where she is ? ** asked John. 

154 





;e, after part- 
jragon, break- 
10 hour was 
le heard Nan 
^akfast is all 
3r no answer, 
irters without 

liis morning, 
ng an air of 

'cggy comes," 

itarvo to dill 1, 
?addy, with a 

' asked John. 

54 



^ilPpiVMIIiipP 



MISERY 7JV THE COTTAGE. 



155 



" 'Dado I do," was the answor. 

John looKed at him, expecting to hear that 
she Iiad taken refuge with Mrs. Murray, or 
some oi" licr other friends in Cloynmally. But 
Paddy began to whistle carelessly, and to pro- 
pare his humble breakfast. 

The wretched man groaned aloud, hut still 
Paddy whistled a gay tune, as if to make Iwm 
as miserable as possible by contrast with his 
own mirth. 

" Wljore 18 yor misthress, then, if ye know ? " 
asked John, in a sharp tone. 

"She's where ye can't find her! Nobody 
knows where but thim that's got her, and 
poor Paddy, that loves her faithful, though he 
never tuk' oath to do it afore Qod'a altar! 
Now ! " cried Paddy, triumphantly. 

" Whist, man ! " exclaimed John. « Do ye 
know who ye'ro talkin' to ? " 

"To i/ersi^f, masther. Do 9/e know who 
f/e're talkin' to ? Becuse I can toll ye it's a 
Buiall excuse will take me off Daisy Farm now ! 
My rii)ulation's at stf,ke, and as I've always 




166 



GEilS OF THE BOO. 




lived with dacent people, i'ln rcsalvod to do 
so still ! Mind, I'm not tied down by a family 
now, and I may turn out a great traveller yet. 
Who knows ? " 

Again John groaned. He felt that the poor, 
simple work-house boy, whom he had from 
boyhood both despised and patronized, was 
now his superior and his master, looking down 
on him with contempt. He knew, also, that 
Taddy was possessed of a secret which he had 
not power to extort from him ; and, with his 
head bowed and his hands clasped behind him, 
he went to his work in the field without break- 
ing his fast. 

At nightfall, when Paddy returned from tlio 
peat-bog where he had been all day at work, 
he seated himself on the door-stone of the 
cottage, to wait for his milk. His heart was 
gladdened by sounds of discord from within, 
and not being remarkably delicate on points of 
honor, he placed himself where ho could hear 
without being seen. 

"Nannie, I'd bog yo on my bonded knees 





vcd to do 
)y a family 
ivoller yot. 

t U»o poor, 
liad from 
mizcd, was 
(king down 
also, that 
ich ho had 
id, with his 
chind him, 
liout break- 

li from tho 
ly at work, 
;oiio of tho 

heart was 
om within, 
m points of 

could hear 

tided knoos 



PfSP 



MISERY /iV THE COTTAGE. 



157 



to go to yer mother, or off where ye plaze, 
and let the broken-hearted jewel back to her 
lioiue." 

"Tiic cottage is big enough for us both," 
replied Nan ; " but she's that seiash that she'll 
have tho whole or none ; so she's tuk tho last. 
She'll run back when tho first strange mau 
looks her in the face ! " 

" It would take more than that to frighten 
ye, then ! " exclaimed John, tartly. 

" 'Deed it would ; a hundred o' em couldn't do 
it ! " said Nan, bravely. 

" Ye arc a bould woman, and I bid yo to 
depart at once out o' my house. Ye'll ruin 
my riputation in Killyrooke," cried John. 

" Yo've none left to be hurted," she said. 
" Only tins morning I heerd two lads say o' ye, 
♦There's tho Protestant church of Killyrooke.' 
Yer character is gone, but a man may live 
without that, if ho has enough to ate. Keep 
yo asy now, and I'll tind to yer cottage and 
dairy, for Peg gavo mt dl her nato ways." 

" I will niver 'bido ye ! " cried Johu, reso- 
lutely. « I'll put an end to my life, or I'll run 






'»<!tfHI 



wmrt: 



158 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



f« ' 



off to Amoriky, to be rid of yo. I hates ye, 
and ycr whole race, for the evil ye've brought 
on this house and ou my name." 

IJy thia time Nan, deaf to his words, was 
singing in a merry voice a snatcli of a nonsen- 
sical song, as if ho was not wortli replying to. 

Poor, miserable, irresolute dupe that John 
was! He saw that his wife was heart-l)rokeii 
and gone, and his character ruined, and he gave 
wp all for lost. Before the sun set that day it 
spread through the village, — all alive with in- 
dignation before, — that Peggy had returned to 
her cottage, and finding Nau installed as mis- 
tress, had fled for ever ; and there were few of 
eitlicr church so heartless as not to pity the 
Buffering wife, and to censure those who had 
BO cruelly wronged her. And very few women 
were sunk so low as to cross the threshold to 
speak with Nan. 

Poor, ruined John sank into a settled melan- 
choly. He walked about the farm with his hat 
drawn over his eyes, and turned away from 
every neighbor ho met, without saluting him. 
He forsook his seat in God's house, and cast 



MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 



159 



hates ye, 
3 brought 

ords, was 
a iioiisen- 
plyliig to. 
that John 
irt-l)i*okcii 
d he gave 
hat day it 
with in- 
jturncd to 
id as rais- 
jro few of 
) pity tho 
who had 
3w women 
iroshold to 

led molan- 
ith his hat 
away from 
iitiiig him. 
), and cast 



aside oven tho forms of religion. He would 
not go to market, but trusted Paddy with his 
business and his money. Ho felt his degrada- 
tion not only when former friends turned from 
him, but more so when tiio very beggars, who 
had always found a welcome at the cottage, 
passed it by without a glanco. His only 
visitors now were tlie family and tho hoyden 
companions of Nan, who all made as free at 
the cottage as if it were their own. The only 
peace John had now, was when Nan went 
o(T with these friends, as she often did, to 
merry-makings for a week or more at a time, 
llicn Paddy would return to tho table and to 
his old bod in the loft ; and John would grow 
strong, and prophesy that sho would never re- 
turn. IJut when her money was gone, and sho 
was weary with tramping about, back sho 
would come, causing John to turn pale, and 
Paddy to flee, as if she were a phantom of the 
pestilence. 

But through all those long days and years, 
although Paddy had heard frequently of his 
mistress and had seen her once, he had never 



»Miil 



160 



OEMS OF THE BOO- 



spoken her namo to John, and if \m master 
uttered it, ho would say, " Take care ! ye'U 
burn yer tongue if ye spake o' yon one." 
Sechig how the namo of his mother stung him, 
Paddy took a savage delight in calling up her 
memory and her instructions, whenever they 
were at work together. "Will, will!" he 
would say, in irony, " but it was fine tachin' 
she gave us both in religion, sure, and a good • 
use we're makin' o't ! I'm thinkin' o' tarniu' 
Protcstint mysilf, when I sees what ilegant 
Christians that church makes ! Yis, yis, we're 
makin' good headway, you and me, masther, 
to where she is now. It's a strange thing, 
indade, that the whole town do not all lave 
Father Clakey in the lurch, and run to Mr. 
Murray, when they sees what angils he makes 
out o' men. Say, masther, do ye belave that 
the saints aboove — Misthress Honey, and the 
like o' her — looks down and sees what's goin* 
on below ? " 

No matter how insolent or how tantalizing 
Paddy was, John dared not rebuke him, lest 
he might take it into his head to go off on 



|P; 



MISEIiT IN THE COTTAGE. 



161 



lis master 
caro! ye'll 
yon one." 
stung him, 
iig up her 
lever they 
will!" he 
ne tachiu' 
and a good • 
' o' tarniix' 
tat ilegant 
, yi8, we're 
B, masther, 
inge thing, 
,ot all lave 
run to Mr. 

> he makes 
belave that 
ey, and the 
irhat's goin' 

tantalizing 
:e him, lest 

> go off on 



" tlio travels" ho was constantly holding up as 
a tliioat, and tlie poor, erring man felt that 
there he would not liave a mortal to speak to. 

Just before Puddy wont, at Mr, Murray's re* 
quest, to carry a letter of comfort to his mis- 
tress, he took occasion to irritate his master 
beyond endurance ; and when rebuked for his 
insolence, he packed up his all in bundles, 
which he hung on pegs in the cow-house, 
donned "the ould masther's Sunday shute," 
sliouldered his oaken staflf, and set off appar- 
ently in high dudgeon. When at the end of 
a week " he came back for his bundles," John 
wont to the cow-house and implored him not 
to foisake him. By some cunning on Paddy's 
part, and an offer of higher wages on John's, 
tiic matter was adjusted ; and thenceforth the 
master took good care not to give farther occa- 
sion for a separation, fully believing that 
Paddy had been off to look for a new plaoe. 



: 



■ Mlrfii 







CHAPTER XV. ' 

ON THE MOUNT. 

THERE is a high point in the Christian's 
upward journey wlience he may look down 
on all helow as on the playthings of childhood, 
or the vain pleasures of youth. Even the 
things which belong to himself lose their size 
and their importance in the distance, and fade 
into nothingness, in comparison with the calm 
glories by which ho is surrounded on the 
mount. The home that once ho called his 
own, but from which misfortunes have driven 
him, no longer seems the one only spot where 
he can live or die. Whether it be palace or 
cottage, it sinks into insignificance beside the 
home of " many mansions," with a glimpse of 
which he has been favored. The treasures 
of gold, or merchandise, or harvest, all grow 
poor in the eyes of him who has the earnest of 

163 



ON rUE MOUNT. 



163 



Christian's 
jT loolc down 
F childhood, 
Even the 
80 tlicir size 
ce, and fade 
ith the calm 
ded on the 
3 called his 
liave driven 
y spot where 
bo palace or 
30 beside the 
a glimpse of 
ho treasures 
est, all grow 
ho earnest of 



heaven and its eternal wealth already in his 
soul. Sorrows, as well as joys, are regarded 
with other eyes than of yore. The grave 
wliero the beloved were hidden when torn 
from the bleeding heart, is now only a peaceful 
bed ; and the dear sleepers are not dead, but 
living and loving still. 

• 

" Hope then lifts her radiant finger, •■ 

Pointing to the eternal home, ' 

On whose portals they yet linger. 
Looking back for us to come." 

Even the erring among his heart's dear 
treasures, — those who have wandered far from 
God, and for whose salvation he would lay 
down his life, — their case seems not so utterly 
hopeless when seen from this hight, as when 
he walked on the low ground beside them. 
As he learns more of God's power, he sees 
also the weakness of Satan's chaiii. As he 
learns more ni His holiness and mercy, he 
casts away his fears, and trusts the wanderers 
with Him. Even if their sun may seem to set 
in darkness, he still sees " light in His light," 



1G4 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



atid bows to Hla will, sure that the Judge of 
the whole earth will do right. 

That there is such a hight as this in Chris- 
tian experience, we know from the testimony 
of those, few though they bo, who have 
reached it, and who move among us still, 
while they live on the verge of heaven and 
breathe its peaceful air. 

To this summit our humble heroine rose 
on that night when, after a fearful struggle, 
she p'tve up her mother to God, and kissed the 
rod wl ch had so sorely smitten her. And 
'lUhougii at times dark clouds had gathered 
around and obscured the light for a little 
season, she had never descended again to the 
dark valley where before ^^ho had walked and 
stumbled like a weak and timid child. The 
littleness of earth and the greatness of all 
beyond were so deeply impressed on her mind, 
that life thenceforth became to her of vast 
value. Every moment was consecrated to use- 
ful toil, and in this blessed actvity she forgot, 
iu a measure, her own sorrows. Love to 



ON TUB MOUNT. 



165 



Judge of 

i in Chris- 
testimony 
who have 
T us still, 
leaven and 



sroine rose 
1 struggle, 
kissed the 
her. And 
i gathered 
or a little 
lain to the 
(Talked and 
ihild. The 
iiesa of all 
I her mind, 
or of vast 
ated to use- 
she forgot, 
I. Love to 



others, and earnest efibrts to carry that lovo 
out into action, fn ■ sovereign balms for the 
wounded spirit. 

Peggy possessed that rare faculty of lighten- 
ing every body's burdens while seeming to do 
but little. Witiiout any bustle or stir shu liad 
become sole nurse for the poor failing mother 
of Miss Grey. 

The servants were not slow to see how their 
own toil wao lessened ; and so, from selQsh 
motives if from no other, they trea*x3d her with 
that respect which they hoped would keep 
her long there. Miss Grey had at first spoken 
of her in the house as a connection of her old 
nurse, whoso presence would be a great com- 
fort to them all, and had bidden the servants 
to addross her as " Misthrcss Sheehan;" and 
they were always civil to one for whom their 
mistress manifested so much regard, and who 
was such a comfort to her in her own weuk- 
uess and trouble. 

Miss Grey was herself one of the pure ia 
heart, but she was encompassed with trials, 
and was the subject of nervous depression 




tmimtmmMit 




:) f k' 




166 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



which at tunes cast shadows over her mind, 
and left licr to grope in tl»c darkness and to 
write bitter tilings against licrself. Ilcr 
earlier life had hccn one of health and of 
activity in all tliat was good ; but the confine- 
ment of years in a sick room had broken down 
both health and spirits, and had forced iicr . 
relinquish every work but that of giving. 
And now, forgetting the groat labor and sacri- 
fice she had been making at home, she looked 
upon herself as an idler in the vineyard, a 
curaberer of the ground. 

When qnict and order were restored to the 
house after the death of Mrs. Grey, Peggy 
thought her work was done in Berkeley Ter- 
race. One day, after many thanks to Miss 
Grey for her kindness, she opened the subject 
of a new place, saying, " And now, dear lady, 
as I'll be but an idler here, I've thought well 
to look about me for work. But I'd like it to 
be work that would call for not only strong 
arms, but a lovin' heart and hapes o' patience. 
If I could go into some hospital or 'syliim, 
where old people war to be humored like 





icr mind, 
iss and to 
elf. Ilcr 
h and of 
c confinc- 
keu down 
jcd l>ci' . 
of giving, 
and sacri- 
jlic looked 
incyard, a 

red to the 
ey, Peggy 
kcley Ter- 
:s to Miss 
ho subject 
dear lady, 
ought well 
1 like it to 
nly strong 
•' patience, 
or 'syliim, 
aored like 



ON THE MOUNT. 



167 



childcr, or where little ones war to bo tinded 
and rarcd up, I'd like it well. My heart's 
that full o' desire for work, that I bo draining 
o' nights that I'm gathcrin' flocks o' littlo 
childcr in my arms and coverin' 'em up with 
my shawl from the wind and the storm. I'd 
be glad to make sunssliine in .some place like o' 
them, and so, may bo, I might lade some wan- 
derer, great or small, to the heaven that 
seema just at my hand. Dear lady, it is so 
near my sperit, that when 1 shuts my eyes I 
feels that I'm in it a'ready ! " 

" Well, Misthross Sheehan," replied Miss 
Grey, •' I have an hospital and an asylum all 
ready for vou. I'm ' patient ' enough to begin 
with. I need all your care and skill for tho 
present; and when my health is improved so 
that I can return to my old labors, we will 
look after my poor peoytlo and friendless little 
children. I am not asking you to remain hero 
for your sake, but for m'i»';. ('. you leave me, 
I must have soire o iu j.onr L\ce ; and who 
can bo such a nurse lor botii I • dy and mind ? 
I shall call you 't- fi , jd n)tl )mpanion, and 




^liiiWilMiiliiliiH 



M(ii i> ii i < i ' i i i<i n i i i a u M fi ii 



ttmubmrntm 




168 GEMS OF TEE BOG. 

whilo you help me, I may bo able to help 

you." 

" Och, but that would be work for the heart, 
indade ! But I'm afeard I'd grow idle with 
such an asy life," said Peggy. 

" Make it as toilsome as you please," replied 
Miss Grey. " I have eight or ten poor people 
for whose comfort I once felt myself respon- 
sible. Of late years I have done nothing for 
them but to send their little pittance weekly. 
We will look them all up again ind see to 
their wants. One of them is blind ; to hor you 
can read the Bible she loves so much." 

" Och, dear lady, but ye knows well how I 
stumbles at the long words. Ye mind what 
work I made with the hard names the day tho 
poor old lady, yer mother, would have me 
read about the hand\»'iitiu' on the wall." 

" Well, pass over those parts till you prfto- 
tioe more," said Misa Grey. "There are 
many beautiful chapters and psalms without a 
hard word ill them." v : 

"I've thought o' i'lat same many times, 
dear lady ; and what a marcy it is to the igno- 



^^■^ijtnpiiui J mm 



ible to help 

for the heart, 
)W idle with 

jase," replied 
I poor people 
lysclf respon- 
nothing for 
;anco weekly, 
u ind SCO to 
i ; to her you 
uch." 

rs well how I 
mind what 
SB tho day tho 
uld have me 
3 wall." 
till you prftO' 
" There are 
ilms without a 

many times, 
is to the igno- 



OJV THE MOUNT. 169 

rant bodies like me. All about the Lord Jesus 
and Ills salvation is as plain as tlie sun. One 
that could but only spell his words could make 
out, ' I am the way, the truth and the life ; ' 
or, ' Come unto Me all ye that labor and are 
hivy laden, and I will give you rest.' It's 
just the very book for the poo;- and simple ; 
and I'll strive to read it better, that I may get 
a heariu' for it whenever I goes among yer 
poor and sick ones." * 

"Misthross Sheehan," replied Miss Grey, 
" I have a work for little children on my 
heart, if I know how to accomplish it. We 
liad for many years a housekeeper with a little 
child. Fanny Bond was taught to road, and 
write, and sow ; and my mother, being very 
fond of her, resolved to give her an easier life 
than a servant's ; to have her taught a trade, 
I)erhaps. She and her mother ate at a table 
by themselves, and Panay, who never asso- 
ciated with tho servants in the kitchen, nor 
learned their ways, grew up an amiable and in- 
teresting girl. 

' My brother's regiment was recalled from 



• 



(( 



mttiu 



miimiii^mmam 



tmmM 




iwJ 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



•;■ '1 



¥ 



India some years ago, and ho brought homo 
with him a young Englishman as his at- 
tendant, who had been one of l»is subordin- 
ate officers. He was very amusing, and had 
curious arts for killing time iu the camp, 
wliich made him a great favorite, not only 
with his comrades but also with the officers. 
But he had not the art of making a living, and 
thought no more of preparing for the future 
than if he were not a reasoning man. Being 
now discharged from the arm^, ho lived on 
from day to day, always proposing to leave tho 
house to begin somo work, but not doing so 

for months. 

" Against tho advice and entreaty of her 
mother and the commands of mine, Fanny 
married this Sam Wells and wont with hiui to 
Ei.gluid, where ho admitted ho had neither 
home nor prospects. Well, like many other 
simple girls, Pac found out her error when too 
lute. She camo back to her mother throe or 
four years afterward, with two pretty babies, 
Baying that ho had gr,m to look for work, and 
■ would Huon come for her. 




Light iiomo 
IS Ilia at- 
■5 subordiii- 
g, ami had 

tho camp, 
3, not only 
;he oC&ooi's. 
I living, and 

tho future 
lau. Uoing 
he lived ou 
to leave the 
lot doing 80 

rcaty of her 

mine, Fanny 

with liiui to 

had ncilhor 

many other 

•ror when too 

thcr throe or 

)rctty babies, 

for work, and 



ON THE MOUNT. 



171 



" We provided a room for her in a house 
jiear by, and did all in our power to rouse her 
to do something for herself. But slie was 
always looking for her husband, and getting 
ready to follow him at a moment's notice. 
We eould not learn that he had been unkind 
to her, but folt sure he would never provide for 
her ; and so wo strove to keep her where we 
could see that her children were cared for. 
One day, after long and anxious waiting, she 
came to my mother, almost wild with hope de- 
ferred. She had an impression that Sam was 
in danger of being pressed into the service 
again, and bogged for a guinea to take her to 
the seaport where the men-of-war were lyino-. 
Leaving hor little ones with a kind widow who 
lived in the house with her, she set off, and 
was never hoard of afterward. We feared at 
liifst that she had met lior husband, and with 
him had deserted the children ; but we finally 
duculod, from her excited manner when she 
lift 118, that she had destroyed herself in a fit 
of discouragement. Her poor old mother paid 
out nil her wagos for tho board of tho littlo 



♦1 



i 



mm 



:».. 



ft" 



172 OEMS OF THE HOG. 

gh-ls, and I clothed them. But lictty Bond's 
heart broke under the dreadful suspense of 
watching and waiting for the return of her 
only child ; and then the little ones were left 
alone in the world. My brother felt some 
compunctions of conscience for having brought 
tlie young man to the house, and he paid their 
board while he lived. Since his death, I have 
done so, but I fear thoy are sadly neglected for 
all that. Previous to my motlier's sickness we 
had discussed several plans for their benefit, 
none of which could bo carried out then. I 
have thought that, perhaps, after we are all 
a little rested, you would take the care of 
them. Wo shaU have this large house to our- 
Belves, and can easily spare two rooms for 
them. Tlieir table could be sp-ead with yuurs, 
and you could teach and train them as you 
please -you may have them %• your children, 
if you like, and I will bear all Mieir expenses." 
Peggy throw up her hands ax amazement, 
and then clasped them tightly, and raised her 
eyes in thankfulness toward heaven. 

"Ooh, but there would be work for a 




iJctty Boml'a 
Buspenso of 
return of her 
lies were loft 
er i'oU some 
aviiig brought 
he paid their 
death, I have 
neglected for 
's sickness we 
their benefit, 
out then. I 
or we are all 
e the care of 
house to oiu'- 
wo rooms for 
Bad with yours, 
L them as you 
your children, 
leir expenses." 
In amazement, 
and raised her 
aven. 
work for a 



ON THE MOUNT. 17?, 

quane!*' she said, "and I'd niver weary o' 
loviii' and laborin' for the poor lambiea. And, 
'dear lady, I'd be more grateful than I can iver 
tell, both to God and to ye, for the lovely work 
and the peaceful home, without even goiu' 
abroad to seek ather." 

Miss Grey soon changed Peggy's peasant-like 
appearance into that of a comely matron, by 
exchanging the coarse cotton gowns she had 
brought with her and which she had worn in 
the sick-room, for neat black dresses. The 
tliick cambric caps, with full, broad frills, were 
exchanged for those of thin muslin, while a 
kerchief of the same material was crossed 
under the half-open waist, over her bosom. 
Her hair though turning grey was still abund- 
ant ; l)ut her face was far paler and thinner 
tiian that of the Peggy of other days. 

Not long after the conversation just repeated. 
Miss Grey brought little Bessie and Marion 
Wells to the pleasant upper rooms she had had 
prepared for them, and which she playfully 
called, " The Orphan Asylum." 



mmm 



mmm 





GEMS OF THE BOO. 

At tho tirst sight of their sad little faces, 
Pcgtry took tlieiu both to her heart. They wore 
that dci)re9sed look which told there had been 
HO play for them, and they moved about as if 
fearful of tho souud of their own footfall s. The 
poor things had been well fed and clothed and 
sheltered by Miss Grey's generosity ; but they 
had not been loved or petted ; and these are as 
important items in tho training of a merry, 
happy child as are food and clothing. If they 
had been defrauded of this hitherto, they wore 
to be fully repaid in tho future. 

Bessie Wells was a tall, thin child of six 
.years, whose sad blue eyes were always swim- 
ming in tears that were never shed, and over- 
hung by lashes so long and dark that they 
Boemcd not to belong by right to blue eyes and 
fair hair. Marion, four years and a half old, 
vho called herself " Madie," was a sweet, 
curly-headed child, who seemed ever craving 
tho lost attentions which are the just due of 
babyhood. She had not been ten minutes iu 
the house, before she had clambed on Peggy's 



ifel 



■fl 




.'? -"M V l"i!"(W 



[ little faces, 
fc. They wore 
ere had been 
d about as if 
ootfalls. The 
i clothed and 
ity ; but they 
d these are as 
H of a merry, 
ling. If they 
rto, they wore 

1 child of six 
always swim- 
shed, and over- 
ark that they 
blue eyes and 
md a half old, 
was a sweet, 
i ever craving 
le just due of 
ten minutes in 
bed on Peggy's 



ON THE MOUNT. 



175 



knee to stroke lier motherly face, and to say, 
" P-ctty, kind lady ; Madie loves you, and will 
bo a good child." 

A happy and tiseful life was now begun in ear- 
nest by this faithful woman. God had sent work 
to her hand in answer to her prayers, and she 
had accepted it as a great honor. She devoted 
lier first morning hours to Miss Grey, and then 
fled to her little charge, who watched eagerly 
for her foot-steps on the stair. When their real 
wants were ill supplied for the day, she applied 
herself to making little garments for them, 
under Miss Grey's direction ; and while she 
sewed or knitted, she told them stories from the 
Bible, and taught them verses from « Watts' 
Hymns for the Infant Mind," as well as tho 
pleasant old stories in verse by Jane Taylor. 
When they grew weary, she took first one and. 
then the other on lior knee, and sang to them, 
or amused them with the toys and pictures 
Miss Grey had provided. This sndden transit 
from a gloomy room in a tenement, where were 
three or four baby boarders younger timn 
themselves, who must never be wakened by a 



iTT^ 



176 OEMS OF THE BOO. ' 

laugh or a cry, was like passing from a cheer- 

less and silent cave into a blooming paradise. 

And Peggy stood on this high mount with 
"the great peace" still in her soul unbroken. 
While she prayed without ceasing for the lost 
one far away, she always added, "Have him 
in Thy hand, and where could be a safer 
place ? " 




•om a clieer- 
r paradise, 
mount with 
I unbroken, 
for the lost 
" I lave him 
be a safer 



] 

se: 
ro 
po 
he 
tri 

Ini 
do 



the 
too 
losi 
eflFc 
par 
I 



CHAPTER XVI. 

AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 

FOR four long years the black cloud hung 
over Daisy Farm ; for four long years the 
serpent with a human face moved through the 
rooms of the cottage; for four long years its 
poisoned sting rankled and festered in the 
heart of the exiled wife, wlio was patient iu her 
tribulation, but in tribulation still. 

Great changes had now taken place ii). the 
humble little hamlet of KiUyrooke, both by 
deutli and emigration. « 

Tiie poor, useless head of the family over 
the way from Daisy Farm, who had long been 
too indolent to do any thing but breathe, had 
lost the energy required even for that small 
eflFort, and so, one day, without any other ap- 
parent cause, he slipped out of life. 
A year previous to this event, his two eldest 

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178 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



boys, who had long beoii impatient to get* off 
to Australia, but could never got money 
enough for their passage, were unexpectedly 
treated to the voyage at the expense of a gener- 
ous Government. Tlio haste in ti«e case was 
owing to some little "irregularities" in thoir 
business — the deer-trade ; in which they were 
accused by the owner of Harploy Hall, of 
living on his venison rather than on thoir own 
potatoes.. 

The younger boys who were largo enough 
to work were put out by the parisli officers, and 
the improvident mother and her small children 
were glad of a shelter in the workhouse. They 
were scarcely gone, when one night, not long 
afterward, a bonfire swept away all troces of 
that poor homo of sin and sorrow. 

The intruder at Daisy Farm had been stoutly 
affirming for two years past that Peggy was 
dead, and that she herself was married to John. 
Some believed her, and regarded her as now the 
rightful mistress of the cottage. But the most 
respectable among the people kept aloof from 
her, and Father Clakey had twice ordered her 



snt to get* off 
get money 
unexpectedly 
so of a gencr- 
tiio case was 
3s" ill their 
ch tliey were 
ley Hall, of 
on their own 

argo enough 
> officers, and 
nail children 
10U80. They 
;ht, not long 
all traces of 

• 

been stoutly 
i Peggy was 
ried' to John, 
eras now the 
But the most 
t aloof from 
I ordered her 



AN A WAKENED CONSCIENCE. 179 

out of the church. This caused her great un- 
easiness, p,s she feared she might die without 
absolution, and be denied a Christian burial. 
She tried to buy the old man's favor with 
gifts of butter and eggs, but he was inexorable, 
aiid sent them back to her with many bitter 
reproofs. 

Paddy had well nigh lost heart ; he had car- 
tainly lost all patience. His "grimaces" at 
the object of his hatred; his faithfulness - 
John called it « insolence » — to his master; 
and his prayers to the Virgin had all failed to 
right matters at the cottage. 

One day, Imving been reproved for careless- 
ness in trimming a hedge, he turned upon 
John, saying, "Don't ye be rebukin' mo for an 
onfaithful sarvant! I'm honest and vprigbf 
andean look every man in Ireland sq a.-, iu 
the eye, and that's more nor my mastht ' jan 
do ! My sperit's fearful roused, and I warn yo 
it's dangerous triflin' with an angered lion! 
Some day ye'U find ather yersilf murdered, or 
poor Paddy drownded in the lough. So ye'U 
add murder to yer other sins." 



180 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



John groaned, and walked away a few steps, 
Tlicn lie turned back, and said, " Ocli, Faddy, 
Paddy, if yo but know the anguish o' my heart 
yedpitynio place o' 'tortumv' mo thus! If 
yo, or Mr. Murray, or any other one hinks I'm 
at aso, ye'rc sore mistaken. I'd lay down my 
life this hour to mako my peace with God and 
poor dear " 

" Hi, there ! " cried Paddy, « don't let mo 
hear that name. Why don't ye lay down yer 
life, then, or do somethin' elso ? " 

" What shall I do ? " exclaimed John. 

" Say ycr prayers," replied Paddy. 

"Paddy, I can't pray. When I tries to 
spake to God, that poor white faco, wet with 
patient tears, comes ntween me and heaven," 
replied John. 

" 0' course it docs ! " cried the poor fellow. 
" Did yo think God would hear yo and sind yo 
pace till yo first mako a turn o' things at tho 
cottage ? That would bo like a poacher askin' 
pardon o' tho gintleman at tho Hall, at tho 
same time he was loadiu' his guu to shoot 
more door." 



a few steps, 
Och, Faddy, 
o' my heart 
thus! If 
! hiiiks I'm 
Y down my 
th God and 

>n't let mo 
' down yer 

ohn. 

I tries to 

), wet with 

heavon," 

)or follow, 
nd sind yo 
ngs at tho 
her askin' 
ill, at tho 
to shoot 



^^ AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 181 

John leaned against the stile where Paddy 
was Sitting, pipe in mou.h, taking his evening 
rest; and tho tears ran down his cheeks 

" I wush I'd never been born! "he cried. 

I Jish yo hadn't," answered his reprover. 

I drnmed last night that yo drove off tho 
«arpn,t, and that then tho black cloud rolled 
away and tho sun shone aboovo us all, and 
that Mammy Honey came back to 'bido with 

us,and to watch us thatwo'd never fall into 
8111 more," said John, mournfully. 

" 1^"«I» •' " cried Paddy, scornfully. » A man 
more nor six feet high, weighln' two hundred 
pound, might behave himself civil without his 
bl-cd mother lavin' heaven, where she's so 
comfortable, to come and look after him ! But 
'" gl^d to see yor heart getti.i' a bit soft 
avcn at this late day, and if it hadn't been 
-do ofli.. it would ha' melted long ago 

Think o' tho holy tachin'o' yer mother, and 
tiic hue cxami>Ie o' mrjsclf." 

"What Shan I do?" cried John again, in 
his anguish and indecision. 

" ^"^ ^° rcmcmbor tho old fablo o' the rat 






% 



I I! 






r... 



182 



GEMS OP THE BOO. 



tliat was caught in a trap ? She ate her own 
head off rather than give the waitin' cat the 
satisfaction o' doin' it . Now if ye can think 
o' no better way o' escape, jump into the longh 
and drown ycrsclf," remarked Paddy, com- 
pose lly. 

" But I have a soul, man ! " cried John. 

" Och, have ye ? I tliought ye hadn't," was 
the reply. "Sure, it's a strange soul for a 
Christian, ony way." 

" I'm not a Christian and niver was, Paddy." 

" Indade ! Are ye a hathen, then '! " The 
simple man knew of no middle ground between 
the two conditions. 

" Not just quite a hathen," replied his mas- 
ter, f 

" What are ye, then ? " 

" I'm a great sinner, Paddy." 

" Ye niver spoke a truer word, masther, and 
yet I can't just comprehend how ye were niver 
a Christian in yer best days ' " . 

"No, never, in heart, like them two wo 
loved, and heaps like them in Cloynmally. 

" I'd give all I have in the world, Paddy, to 



•f... 



AN A WAKENED CONSCIENCE. 



183 



ate her ovrn 
tin' cut the 
can think 
o the lough 
addy, coin- 
John. 

adn't," was 
soul for a 

IS, Paddy." 
n?" The 
ud between 

3d his mas- 



isther, and 
were niver 

a two we 

nally. 

, Paddy, to 



hoar Mr. Murray's voice again in the church, 
and to got a kind word from his lips," said 
John, niournfally. 

" Well, tho church door is open and his 
tongue is not palsied yit, I belave," replied 
Paddy. » But if ye'd lilce a sarmon from one 
that's nathcr priest nor parson, yc'U get it by 
goin' to the lough on Sunday next. There's a 
fine young jintlcman stoppin' at Mr. Mur- 
ray's, tliat has a mind to spake on religion to 
thim as niver goes to that church; and 
he's given word that as the young men gathers 
by the water to fish and to skip stones and the 
lilio, that he'll bo there among thim. lie's 
been at games witli the Cloynmally boys tho 
week gone, pitchin' quoits ; and tliey say he's 
a fine hand at a game." 

" We'll go to hear him, Paddy," said John, 
" and raay bo he'll put a bit o' strength into 



me. 



*' lie ? Ye could take him up in one hand 
and hould him out at arm's lingth ! " cried 
Paddy. 



184 



OEMS OF TBE BOO. 



"Och, but he may havo a bigger and 
stronger heart nor I," said John. 

" Very like ho has, or it's a poor one," re- 
turned the reprover, in language more faithful 
tlian delicate. 

" Paddy, lad, why can ye not show me some 
marcy ? " cried John. 

"Because the Protestant Bible taches to 
show marcy to tiio marciful only. And on 
thim grounds what right have yo to ask or ix- 
pect tinder regards from a vartuous and onera- 
ble man like mesilf ! " • 

" Yer mistaken, Paddy. It says, ' Blissed 
are tlie marciful, for they shall obtain marcy ; ' 
but it does not say others shall not find it. 
The world is full o' proofs o' God's pity and 
marcy to many that's gone astliray from him. 
But none ever got so far wrong as mesilf, after 
such lovely trainin' from the cradle up ; " said 
John. 

"Will, thin, I'm not as larned as Mr. 
Murray, to instruct nor yet to condimn yo ; so 
I'll kape yo waitin' for consolation till yo sees 



igger and 

r one," re- 
ro faithful 

J me some 

taclies to 

And on 

ask or ix- 

nd onera- 



AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 185 

this new-como jintleman ; I thin will fall on 
him with puzzlin' questions on religiou, and 
see what he's made on ! If there's ony pluck 
in liim to stand his ground agin my church, as 
if he knew the difference in the two, we'll 
trust him with yer case, — though it's a 
Bhamcful and disgraceful and onrispictable one 
to intertain company with ! We'll bo first at 
the lough, masther, on Sunday, waitiu' Lim 
there." 



* Blissed 
marcy ; ' 
t find it. 
pity and 
om him. 
iilf, after 
>;" said 

as Mr. 

1 yo ; so 

ye sees 



!i 



111 



CHAPTER XVII. 

LAT-PBEACHING AT THE LOCOH. 

ON the following Sunday afternoon a crowd 
gathered around the lough, the usual 
rallyhig-place when mass and dinner were 
over. Tlicy had been warned against listening 
to heresy; but curiosity was stronger than 
fear. Some came to hear about games in 
England; some to louic at the strange gentle- 
man ; and others to watch for heresy and put a 
stop to its utterance. John and Paddy were 
there among the rest. Presently there was a 
stir; and those who were fishing drew in their 
lines and wound them up. All pressed 
towards a grassy bank overhung by four old 
willows; for there the Murray boys appeared 
with their guest, a "boyish jintlcman " of 
twenty-one or two, with a very slender frame, 
and a face as fair and delicate as a girl's. lie 

186 




)n a crowd 
the usual 
riner were 
it listening 
nger than 

games in 
ge gciitle- 

and put a 
addy were 
ere was a 
w in thrir 
1 pressed 
^ four old 

appeared 
man 
ler frame, 
irl's. Ho 



LAT-PREACniNO AT THE LOUQH. 187 

I'cld a book in his hand, the sight of which 
caused alarm at once. 

" Now, boys," muttered an old man, " it's 
just as yo war warned ! He's one o' thim 
artful Methodises— a Bible reader — a fearful, 
dangerous fellow ! " 

The words caught the young man's car, but 
not letting that bo known, he said, « Good-day, 
friends. What a beautiful place you have' 
here for rest and exercise! I never saw a 
lovelier sheet of water than this, nor a moro 
beautiful playground ; and as I've been great 
at games, I've looked well to the grounds. I 
heard at Cloynmally that you always met hero 
on Sunday, and so I've come to see you, and 
talk a little to you about things ihat we all be- 
lieve. I'm no minister, and can't preach. 
I'm only going to talk; and you have as good 
a right to talk here as I have. So any of you 
may speak out and ask questions, or contradict 
me, if I say what's not right." 

" What book's yon in your hand ? " asked 
the old schoolmaster, who had better been 



I'l i 



188 



GSMS OF THE BOQ. 



Styled « tl.0 village child's-nursc," as his ten 
pupils were too young to learn from books. 

" Tins book, friend, is the Douay version of 
tl.o I]iblo, prepared by a Catholic priest and 
u«ed in your church. I will not open it unless 
you wish. I've not come here to argue, but to 
talk on things that you and I agree in. We 
will let other things go." 

"But ye're a Protestant?" asked a voice 
from the crowd. 
" Yes, I am." 

"Then in what can ye agree with U8?'» 
asked the schoolmaster, who regarded himself 
as the spy and watchman of the hour. 

"Oh, in many things, friend," replied the 
youth. " You believe in a God who made the 
world and all who dwell in it, and who sends 
t lie sun and the rain to ripen our harvests, 
that we may have bread, and so live ? " 
" Oh, sure, wo believe in him ! " 
" Och, yes, yes ! " replied many voices 
"And so do I, friends. You believe that 
God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, into the 



''"'•' ' "' " ' ' 'JIl ii r i B ll ' l fe ll lu l j itM 







as his ten 
books, 
version of 
priest and 
t it unless 
:ue, but to 
> iu. We 

d a voice 



ith us?" 
i himself 

jlied the 
made the 
ho sends 
harvests, 



LAT-PREACniNO AT THE LOUQH. 189 

world, and that Fo died on the cross to save 
all who trust in Him, don't you ? " 
" 0' course we bolaves that." 
" Yes, yes." " ludade wo does ! " were the 
varied replies. 

"And so do I. And you believe in the 
"Virgin Mary, too, don't you ? " 
« Ay, do wo ; but ye don't," said a man. 
" You're mistaken, friend ; I do believe in 
her and I honor her. She was ' blessed among 
women.' God honored her above all women 
ever born before or after her, in making her 
the mother of His Son, the Redeemer of the 
world." 

I thought all the Protestants despised 
Mary," said one. 

" None but a great scoffer could despise her 
whom God so greatly honored," said the 
young man. 

" But you don't pray to her ? " said the 
schoolmaster. 

"No, I pray only to God, the Father, Son 
and Holy Spirit; but this is a point on which 
we disagree ; and we were to talk of those only 



il.jiji. ,iiujjjiuii;|jiii(i 



190 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



OH wliicli we think alike. You believe io 
Peter, don't 7011 ? " 

" Pctor ? Oh, sure we do ; he it is as holds 
the keys." 

" You believe tliat he wrought miracles ? " 

" Surely ; all the saints do that." 

*' Would you like to hear from your own 

Bible how Peter and Jolui healed the lame 

mail at the gate of the temple ? " 

" Are you just sure it's not the Protestant 

Bible?" asked a timiJ-looking man in the 

crowd. 

" Quite sure, friend. You may take it and 
show it to Father Clakey, and if he says it is 
not the one he uses, but a Protestant version, 
you may do what you please with it." 

So they all sat motionless while ho road the 
narratives of the healing of the lame man, and 
Of Christ's walking on the water, stilling the 
tempest, and feeding the multitude. When ho 
.'Josed the book, ho said, " You notice, friends, 
tliat when Jesus saw the multitude lie had 
compassion on them. It is not on them alone, 
but on us here, and on all who are in want 



■''' a' l*ilht « « J U»i« »t» » ii« . 



iwt u'< .ii»i T. ii n iiwai 



n i MM t i M i iaitm 



■■ 



a believe ia 

it is as holds 

niracles ? " 

u your own 
3(1 the lamo 

Protestant 
man ill the 

take it and 
lie says it is 
ant version, 
t." 

ho road tho 
le man, and 

(^filling tho 
Wlion ho 
ice, friends, 
Ldo IIo had 
tliom alone, 
re in want 



LAYPREACHINO AT THE LOUGH. 191 

and sorrow. His compassion has not failed 
now that IIo has returned to His glory. IIo 
still hoars' and sees, and is ready to grant what 
we need. Tliat multitude were hungry. Is 
there any one hero wlio ever knew what it was 
to be hungry, when tliero's no food in tho cot- 
tage and no money to buy any ? " 

"Ay!" " 'Deed there is ! " "Few but has 
known it, sir!" "Yo'vo heard, in England, 
o' tho famine we had hero when the potatoes 
failed, and the great sickness camo ? " These 
were among the many answers to his question. 
" Yes, I've heard all that." 
"I wonder if there's ono here hungry 
to-day ? " he asked. 

"I bees, ycr honor," said a trembling old 
woman, who sat on the grass near him, " and 
not a handful o' meal in the house ! " 

" Tiien here's a crown for you, poor friend," 
said the young man. " Jesus has compassion 
on you, and perhaps He sent mo here to tell 
you so." 

An old man rose to his feet, but sat down 
again, as if too modest to make his plea. 



mad 




192 



GESrS OF THE BOO. 



i . 



"Who's that, boys?" askel tho gentleman. 

"It's ould Jemmy Flynn, a real dacent 
body ! " cried several at once. 

" Then here's a crown for him too, and I've 
Btill another for any one tliat's poor or sick. 
But I'm sure all that can work have too much 
honor to take what sliould 'oo given to the 
needy." Strange as it may seem, among a 
class proverbial as beggars, no one else applied 
for help. 

" Hunger is not the greatest sorrow," con- 
tinued the young man. " If tliero is any one 
hero with other troubles, remember Jesus ia 
among us, and Ho has compassion on you." 

" PIusc, sir, I lost my baby, and my heart's 
broke, and I can't ate nor slape I'm that 
hungry for him. My arms is so empty they 
aches all day and all night," said a pale 
woman, pressing through the crowd. 

" Jesus' own mother had her heart broken 
too, when tlio cruel Jews were crucifying her 
Son. He pitied her, and He told John to take 
her for his mother, and to comfort her, and ho 
did BO. Ho will comfort you too, if you ask 



wwimwrixn i i,, .,. 



gentleman, 
eal dacent 

0, and I've 
or or sick. 
I too much 
311 to the 
among a 
so appliod 

ow," con- 
J any one 
' Jesus is 
on you." 
ly heart's 
I'm that 
ipty they 
i a pale 

■t hrokon 
fying hor 
n to take 
', and ho 
you ask 



LAT-PREACmNO AT THE LOUQH. 193 
Him, and fill your soul with His love, so that 
you can think with joy of your haby, and of the 
time when you shall take it again in those 
poor acliing arms," said the stranger, with pity 
in his voice. 

The people, finding he had a word for all, 
pressed around him and began telling him their 
sorrows, half a dozen speaking at once. 

At last ho said, « Let me say to each one of 
you, no matter what your sorrow is, — or your 
sins, eitlior,— Jesus has compassion on you." 

All tills time John and Paddy had been sit- 
ting under a willow behind tiie stranger. 
Paddy now touched his elbow and said, 
" 'Dade, sir, if I should till yo my throubles, 
ye'd niver belavo me. Ye'd think I was makin' 
lip lies to amuse yo ! " The young man pro- 
bably saw that it would bo like letting loose a 
torrent, if he began to talk with one who bore 
so little resemblance to a mourner; so ho just 
bade iiim .emember what ho had said to the 
others ; and, thanking them for their civility 
and bidding them good-day, he was about 
leaving, when one of the young men called 



194 



OEMS or THE Boa. 



\ 



' 



out, « But, sir, we heard you was to tell us 
about the games ye have in England. Will 
ye stop a bit and try a hand at pitchiu' 
quoits ? " 

" Not to-day, my good fellow; God gives us 
six dajs to ourselves, but on this one, the first 
day of the week, on which the Saviour rose 
from tlio dead, He commands us not to do our 
own works nor think our own thoughts, 
but to keep it holy unto Him. Come here at 
BuuHct on Tuesday, and I will meet you as a 
boy, at healthful sport. To-day I came as a 
Christian, to toll you of Him whom my soul 
lovoth, and whom I want the whole world to 
love. Take this Bible, schoolmaster, a»id make 
sure I have not deceived you." 

As he turned to go, John rose and followed 
him. " You don't think, sir," ho said to him 
in a low tone, « that He could have compassion 
on»»e. I'm such a fearful sinner! I've been 
a hypocrite, and a Pharisee, and all that's evil. 
0' course you've heard o' »ie — John Shee- 
ban." 

"No, never," replied the young man. 



i to tell us 
aud. Will 
at pitcblu' 

od gives us 
le, the first 
viour rose 
t to do our 

thoughts, 
me licre at 

you as a 
same as a 
t my soul 

world to 
and make 

i followed 
d to him 
)mpas8iou 
I've beea 
Imt's evil. 
)hu Siiee- 

in. ■■ '" 



LA T.PREACmm AT THE LOVQB. 195 

wn'mT""' ^''^' I "'««gl't the whole 
worldhadheerdo'me-audwascursiu'u,eby 
this ture ! Didu't Mr. Murray tell ye o' me 

aud the home ? '' 

"Not a word,frieud; but unless your sius 

are redder thausearlet aud deeper thauerim- 
Bon Jesus has compassion on you, and will 
forgive you." 

"Well, sir, will ye ask Mr. Murray if I,e 
Innks there is power enough in Heaven to 

God r' ""'' ""'"''"* ^'''''^^"^ *'"^ •'*"«««<^ °f 

J^. v" r'""'"' ^^ P^^'- ™'^»' ^"d he will 
say, Yes, and Jesus will say unto you, « Thv 
su^are forgiven thee; go anc sin no more.' " 
Had Protestants built a church iuKillyrooke 
and sent a minister to preach in it, they could 
not thus have accomplished as much for the 

people as cMd that almost boy, with his heart 
full of love for Christ and of zeal in His service. 
1 he Bible was pronounced a "Catholic" one 
by the priest, and so the stranger's word was 
verified. 



196 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



Tho compassion of Jesus aud the miracles 
by whicii He proved it were the themes in 
many a poor homo that Sunday night ; and 
duiMig tlio three or four woeks of his college 
vacation, that young lay-preacher did a great 
work for those cottagers. He broke down tiio 
barriers, so that after that, any man whom 
they respected could get an audience at the 
lough, while he read portions of Scripture from 
the Douay version and made comments on it ; 
carf being used not to arouse prejudice or fear 
by openly assailing the Bomish church. 



% 



"wwMniimri^mBai 



m^ 



) miracles 
themes in 
liglit; and 
Ins cullcge 
lid a great 
do\^a tiie 
lan whom 
ue at the 
)turo from 
iiits oil it ; 
ice or fear 
h. 



CHAPTER XVni. 

A VISIT OF MEBCT. 

Ty HEN the young stranger returned to the 
T ? parsonage, he reported his doings to Mr. 
Murray, who had been too wise to accompany 
Imn. When he delivered John Sheehan'a 
incssage, a shadow passed over the minister's 
face. 

"He has indeed made desolation in both 
church and home," he said, " and only for the 
abounding mercy and grace of God I should 

.avc no hope for him ! He ran well when none 
iHudered, but he was a poor, weak creature, 
^.tbout Christian principle. His parents were 
P'llars in the church, though poor and unlet- 
torod folk. His mother was as nearly a saint 
as any mortal who ever walked the earth. 
They held him up, perhaps too much. 

"If one was kept in a standing-stool till he 

107 



198 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



i 



was fully grown, without ever using his own 
limbs, I think ho would fall as soon as ho at- 
tempted to stand alone ; at all events, the first 
thrust from a foe would lay him low ; and onco 
down, ho would not know how to rise again. 

" This man's case has lain heavily on my 
heart. Such has been the good name they bore, 
that wo always pointed the cotters to that 
family as an example of consistent walk, and 
of the power of the Gospel to keep men pure 
even when surrounded by all that is ungodly. 
The course this last one of the race has pur- 
sued, has outraged the feelings of even the 
rude and ignorant Papists about him, and 
brought contempt on the Protestant faiHi. I 
went three times to pull him, if might be, out 
of the fire, but he made oflF and would not see 
me at all, as if well pleased with the fetters in 
which Satan had bound him. If ho is ever 
humbled and reeds help, he will have to come 
to me for it ! " 

The young gentleman remained silent, and 
Mr. Murray saw that the last remark did not 
meet his approbation. 



1 



ng his own 
n as 'lo at- 
ts, the first 
; and onco 
36 again, 
ily oil my 
I they bore, 
rs to that 
walk, and 
J men pure 
s ungodly. 
J has pur- 
even the 
him, and 
t faith. I 
;ht be, out 
Id not see 
} fetters in 
le" is ever 
ve to come 

silent, and 
k did not 



A VISIT OF MERC 7. 



199 



" You may think I am severe," he continued, 
" but you never saw the happy homo he has 
made desolate, nor the saiut-like woman who 
has meekly forsaken it witiiout a word of cen- 
sure, or even a farewell to the minister and the 
church, who regarded her as a bright and shin- 
ing light among them, and who felt drawn 
heavenward by her quiet faith and humble -^aL 
No, I shall never go after him ! " 

"And yet," said the young man, "after all 
this, he has a soul ! It was sinners, and not 
the righteous, that Jesus came to save ; to seek 
as well as to save." 

" That is true, and we must be careful not 
to stand on our small dignity when He stooped 
BO low," replied the good minister, rebuked by 
tiie faith of his friend. 

" You know brands have to be plucked from 
the burning, sir. They cannot walk forth 
from the flames themselves," continued tijo 
guest. 

"True; and Sheehan seems to have been 
bound hand and foot by the enemy, that he 
might not only lose his own soul, but be also a 



200 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 




cause of stuml.ling to many. Pcrlmps l.o ou-H.t 
to have a helping hand, but if I si,o„ld go'to 
'"'» It might heal the wound too slightly I 
core not how sorely ho suffers, „or how Ion.. 
As he opened his mind to you, how would It 
do for you to take his case in hand, and 
earn whether he is really repeatant, or only 
longing for his old peace and respectability 
again ? " ■' 

"If you will trust me, sir, I will talk with 
he poor man gladly, for his pale face has 
Launted me ever since he whispered those 
words ,n my ear," replied the young man. 

" Well, as you have promised to meet the 
boys at the lough on Tuesday, take the cottage 
on your way home, sending my boys on before 
you," said Mr. Murray. 

J Would it not be a good work to close this 
Sabbath wUh, sir? To-morrow or Tuesday he 

may be off in Ms fields, or at market, or -lor 
- one of us may be in eternity ! For my own 
part, sir I feel that I'm working by the hour 
for my Master, and may be called in from the 
fidd at any moment. I have hardly dared to 



A VISIT OF MEROT. 



201 



>8 ho oii'jhfc 
oil Id go to 
iliglitly. I 
liow long, 
would it 
tiand, and 
it> or only 
pectability 

talk with 
faco has 
red tliose 
man. 

meet the 
10 cottage 
on before 

jIoso this 
lesday ho 
, or — or 
my own 
lie hour 
from the 
lared to 



speak the word 'to-morrow' for six montha 
past, in reference to work for souls," replied 
the youth, solemnly. 

Mr. Murray looked up in surprise at « the 
boy," as ho called him, and replied, " Yes, if 
you arc not too weary, go now, and forget wl'iat 
I have said calculated to discourage you, re- 
mcmbcrhig only that Ho will not break 'the 
bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. If 
you sec one spark of repentance, fan it; but 
warn him not to feign sorrow for sin, under a 
desire to regain his character and his home. If 
he speaks of seeing me, advise him rather to go 
to Elder Peter. I'm too easily touched by the 
sight of sorrow to deal with the like of him. 
Elder Peter is a son of thunder, and will bo 
faithful without being too merciful." 

" You are sure he will not ' smite off tho 
riglifc ear' instead of saying, ' Go and sin no 
moro ' ? " asked the young man. « I fear that 
old man, with his stern sense of justice, may 
lack the charity that covers a multitude of 



Bins 



" Well, then, my dear boy, send Sheehan to 



*■" 



202 



OEMS OF TUB BOO. 



mo, if ho desires help ; and I will strive to read 
his case," replied the raiiiister. 

Mr. Murray took his hat and cane, and 

walked on witli his friend as far as the litllo 

churchyard which surrounded his chapel. They 

went in among the beds of the lowly sleepers, 

just as the last streak of the golden light was 

fading in the west. Very near the chapel door 

Mr. Murray laid liis hand on a plain slato 

headstone, saying, "Hero sleeps tho mother 

of this man — a woman of whom the world 

was not we -thy." 

And then in a few words ho told the story 
of her strong, pure life, and ended by a recital 
of her sou's indignation over her open grave, 
because a half-idiot had pronounced her safe 
in heaven — tho only one there of tho race or 
name ! « And yet, seo what he has done for 
lier honor," he said. " Now go on, my boy ; 
you will have tho moon for your company 
home, and may God go with you, and put 
words into your mouth." * 

Tho young stranger stooped and plucked a 
briar twig and three shamrock blossoms from 



A VISIT OF MERCT. 



108 



ri?e to read 

cane, and 
i the IUHq 
lapcl. They 
7 sleepers, 

light was 
shapel door 
)lain slato 
ho mother 

the world 

the story 
y a recital 
)en grave", 
1 her safe 
10 race or 
I done for 

my boy; 

company 

and put 

* 

clucked a 
oms from 



the mound where Mammy Honey was sleeping, 
and (lien passed down the solitary road which 
lay between the village of Cloynmally and the 
hamlet of Killyrooko. 

He knew the cottage, — which had been des- 
cribed to him, -by the little glass window, 
AvhicL glistened through the vines in the moon- 
light. With one bound he sprang over the stile, 
and with a few steps reached the open door. 
The room was lighted by a single rush taper, 
making the figures within very indistinct. Be- 
fore he had time to knock, he heard Paddy say, 
" But, Masther, the young jintleman said, ' All 
manner of sins' would be forgive to people, 
and I'm sure that ye— vile as ye are— haven't 
committed them all! Ye niver stole a ha'peth 
from any body ; ye niver warshipped gods o' 
wood and stone ; ye niver worked on the Sab- 
bath day, — ye, nor yer donkey, nor yer man- 
servant, nor the sthranger that war within yer 
gates ; nor ye niver invied Harpley Hall, nor 

the fine things in it, to the owner, nor " 

« Hark, there, Paddy ! there's some neigh- 
bor knockin'," interrupted John. « Come in ! " 



>i 







204 



GEMS OF TUB BOO. 



" Surely," he continued, rising to meet the 
stranger, on whose uncovered head the moon 
was shining, " this is not the young jintloraan, 
come to visit the sperit in prison? Did yo 
give my luossago to dear, dear Mr. Murray, 
sir?" asked John, looking earnestly in his' 
face. 

" Yes." 

"And what said he? -that there was one 
ray of hope for mo in the world to come ? In 
this world I do not look for peace ! " 

"Ho said, my friend, that hut for the 
abounding mercy and the free grace of God ho 
should look on your case as a hopeless one ; 
but that if you truly repent of your sin against 
God — not merely feel sorrow for the wreck of 
your own happiness — there is hope." 

John took tho gentleman's hand in both his 
own, and leading him lo a chair, exclaimed, 
" 1 will lay my heart bare before ye and tell yo 
all ; and thin if yo think God can listen, I'll 
ask ye that has a hearin' at tho raarcy-seat, to 
plead with Him for rao." 
" I do not war.t to hear of your sins, poor 



mm 



; to meet the 
ad the moon 
iigjintloman, 
•n? Did yo 
Mr. Murray, 
estly ill his 



ere was one 
) come ? In 

[)ut for the 

of God lie 
•peloss one ; 
' sin against 
10 wreck of 

in both his 
exclaimed, 
and tell yo 

1 listen, I'll 
ircy-seat, to 

• sins, poor 



A VISIT OF MERCY. 205 

man. I only want to know that you've for- 
saken them, and are penitent before God. He 
came not to call tlie righteous, but sinners to 
repenhmce; and the greater your sins, the 
greater your need of Him, and the greater 
Saviour he will bo to you." 

" Will, will, thin there's a fine chance for 
him , for a huger sinner ye'U not find in Killy- 
rooke!" cried Paddy, who had been sitting 
unnoticed in a dark corner of the kitchen. 

" Whist, Paddy," said his master, " and 
listen to the jintleman while he talks to us." 

" What is it, friend, that troubles you ? Is 
it tliafc your respectability and peace are gone, 
or that your soul is ia danger ? " 

" It is that I have sinned against a holy God, 
whom I once thought I loved and honored, 
and have brought shame on His name among 
His foes ; that I have disgraced the dead, and 
broke the heart o' the livin', and ruined my- 
self ontirely. This last is sorrow enough ; but 
when I remembers God, all that fades away. 
I can't pray. Och, it is a fearful thing to be . 



i 



206 



OEMS or THE BOO. 



shut out from tho presence o' God and not bo 

able even to call upon Him." 
" You must pray or you are lost; no man 

can do that for you." ^; 

" Ay, yon is jist what I'm always tiUin' hiui 

— to say his prayers," said Paddy. " 0' 

course ho won't be forgive till ho docs — 
' what's worth tlio takiu' is worth tho askin' ! " 
" If I could get a ray o' hope, sir," said 
John, without paying the least regard to 
Paddy's speech, « I'd lave my lovely home and 
go forth among strangers and toil at any work 
for a crust. I'd not ask a shelter by day or 
Might, nor a smile from mortal, nor even aso 
from pain o' body ! " 

" Ah, you'd buy peace with God by pen- 
ance, like your poor neighbors, would you? 
But it can not bo done. The blood of Josus 
Christ, and that alone, cleansoth from all sin. 
Do you believe that ? " 

" Ay, I have believed it from my cradle up ; 

but Twy sin, sir " ■ - 

" Is it greater than all sin, so great that it 



m^ 



A nSIT OF MERCr. 



Sot 



and not be 

it; no man 

I tillin' Iiiu 

iddy. " 0' 

lie docs — 

askiu' ! " 

, sir," said 

regard to 

home and 

t any work 

by day or 

r even ase 

d by pcn- 
)uld you? 

of J0SU8 

m all sin . 
jradio up ; 
)at tliat it 



outweighs the promise and the power of God ? 
Take care, my friend, how you limit the ability 
of Illm who said, 'All power is Mine in 
heaven and earth,' " said the visitor. 

"It never entered my head that I was a 
sinner, sir, till late years. I thought myself 
an example to all, for vartue and piety." 

" Och, that ye did," responded Paddy from 
his dark corner, "and the blissed one in 
h-Tcn war always warnin' ye agin the ' liven 
o' the Pharisees,' and tellin' ye that ye war all 
buried up in yer crops and yor cattle ! Well 
do I remember in those last days how she said, 
'Beware, boy, o' self-righteousness; let him 
that standoth take hade list he fall.' Poor 
Paddy remembers her holy tacliin', if her own 
son don't, and I only a poor workhouse lad 
and a Pnpislit beside. I'd be under great com- 
pliment to ye, young jintleman if ye'd say yer 
prayers hero, seoin' that he'll not say his. I'll 
sit still and listen, though I daren't for the life 
o' me go onto my knees." 
'* I hope you will not forgot your own soul, 



wm 



■iMni 



208 



GEMS OF TUB BOO. 



my poor man, in your caro for your master," 
said the gcnlleraan. 

" Ocli, but I'm safe, sir ; I'm a Catholic and 
quite in favor with father Clakey these days, 
'count o' the fine way I've behaved myself in 
the th roubles at Daisy Farm ; though he's a bit 
angered witli all the boys for listening to ye at 
tiie lough, the day. He's quite sure that ye 
are ather n clergy or the makin's o' one, — a 
Methodis like, that's come out o' England to 
lade us asthray. He's comiu' to the play- 
ground a Tuesday to spy ye." 

" I hope ho will ; I'd bo glad to sec him ; but 
at present we have to do witli this one ques- 
tion, ' What must I do to be saved ? ' " said 
the gentleman. 

And far into the night ho talked with John, 
and prayed for him, and encouraged him to 
accept the offered pardon, while poor Paddy 
slept in his chair. 



r master," 



itholic and 
hose days, 

myself in 
1 he's a bit 
iig to yc at 
i"e that ye 
' ono, — a 
i^iiglaiid to 

the play- 

' him ; but 

ono ques- 

I ? '" said 

'itli John, 
d him to 
or Paddy 



CHAPTER XIX. 

ELDER PETER. 

WHEN John Shcohan parted with the 
young man, in the darkness, at tlie gate 
of his cottage; he said, « I'll take yor advice, 
sir, even though the only way to loose the hop- 
ples from my feet be to go forth into the world 
penniless, to am my bread as a farm servant. 
Many thanks to ye for yer condescinsion, 
and yer marcy to a poor sinful, sorrowful 
man " 

When he entered the cottage again, ho roused 
the sleeping Paddy, who started to his feet as 
if in great alarm. After looking about him 
wildly for some seconds, he remembered the 
circumstances under which he had fallen 
asleep, and exclaimed, "Have I been that 
oncivil that I let the stranger go without a bow 
m 14 



i 




GEMS OF THE BOO. 

from mo or a ' God bliss je,' after all the pains 
lie's took about gettiu' our sins forgiven ' " 

Paddy took tl.e sins as well as the honors of 
the Sheehans all to himself; and he now felt 
as grateful to the gentleman as if ho had been 
the especial object of his visit. 

"Sit down now and rouso yonrsilf like a man 
and listen to me," said John, in a solemn tone. 
"I've promised this night that I'll lade a new 
life from this hour. I've resolved to break the 
hateful fetters." 

" And ye'U break yer resolve when yon one 
comes back from tho fair and abuses yo, — as 
ye have done a hoondered times afore," replied 
Paddy, rubbing his sleepy eyes. 

"No, Paddy; ye and me is free from this 
hour, even if we have to lave the darlin' cottago 
and all in it. I care no more for all this land, 
iior the crops, than for the dust in the road,— 
these treasures that has well nigh cost me my 
«oul," said his master. 
" And whore'll we go ? " asked Paddy. 
" We'll go whore's work to be had, and hire 



•••— — TT-Tf 



UPP 



ELDER PETES. 



211 



all the pains 
^ivcn ' " 
e lioiiors of 
lie now felt 
lio had beeu 

' like a man 

olcmn tone. 

lado a new 

break the 

m yon one 
Qs yo, — as 
•0," replied 

from this 
lin' cottage 

1 this land, 
le road, — 
>st me my 

Idy. 

, and hire 



out as farm servants, may be; but I must 
think first," replied John. 

" I'll not lave this lovely cottage to yon 
one!'' exclaimed Paddy. "I'll set fire to it 
and burn it up, and then I'll drive oflF the 
cratiirs and sell them to some marciful body 
as will love them tinder." 

" But the cottage is not ours, it belongs to 
the estate o' Harpley Hall, and we'd be tran- 
sported for burnin' it down. We'll do right 
at any rate, and not get out o' one sin by lap- 
in' into another," replied John. 

" Let's ask advice o' Elder Peter, for though 
he'll not buy eggs of sinners, — as if the inno- 
cent luns were to blame for the ill doin' o' their 
masthcr, — he's quite ready to give them 
advice," said Paddy. 

" I can go to Mr. Murray, but I'm afeareder 
o' Elder Peter nor of death itself," replied 
John. " He's a man o' very holy life, Paddy ; 
and never havin' fallen himself, ho knows not 
how to pity the sinner. He goes half a mile 
out o' his way to the Hall, o' rent day, rather 
than pass Daisy Farm ; and onco when I met 




■I 



BMB 



212 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



liim in the road, lie sprang over a thorn hedge 
rather than go by me." 

♦' Och ! he'd made a poor hand at kapin' 
xjorapany with the Son o' Mary when Ho was 
on arth ! Didn't the onld misthress read us 
fine lessons about Him ating with publicans 
and sinners and the like villyans ? And ye 
mind yon Mary that He let wash His holy feet, 
and the poor body He spoke tinder to, whin 
the grand folk brought her to Him for punish- 
ment in the timple. If Elder Pctor had been 
there, he would ha' been the dith o' all thira 
sinners." 

" Well, Paddy, when the darkness falls the 
morrow night, I'll slip up to Mr. Murray's, and 
humble myself before him as I have before the 
Lord ; and I'll do just what he bids mo, if it's 
to leave all here and flee like a beggar. But 
ye have a work to do for me, Paddy, as well as 
*lie minister. In the vision o' Mammy Honey, 
— by which I should ha' taken warnin', — ye 
it was that drew the pizen tooth out o' the 
heart o' love." 

" I'll soon do thatf with yer lave, and like no 




at kapiii' 

Ho was 

read ua 

publicans 

And yo 

holy feet, 

to, wliin 

)!• punish- 

liad been 

' all tliira 




falls the 
•ay's, and 
eforo the 
ne, if it's 
;ar. But 
is well as 
y Honey, 



ELDER PETER. 



218 



better business," replied Paddy, springing to 
his feet and rubbing his hands together im- 
patiently. 

" Don't ye move a foot, Paddy, without Mr. 
Murray's biddin', for yc've not the judgment o' 
a child," replied John. 

"Och, hasn't I? And where would Daisy 
Farm be to-day, weren't it for my judgment in 
buyin' and sellin' at the market these last 
years ? *' replied Paddy, with ofliiended dignity. 

The young stranger made his way home in 
the darkness, for the moon had set long before 
ho left the cottage. As he passed the few poor 
hovels on his way to Cloyuraally, the sleepers 
Within were startled by hearing a low, sweet 
voice singing in the road, — , •■ t 

"The dying thief rqoioed toaee 
That fountain in his day : " ! 

0, may I there, though vile as he, . 

Wash all my sins away." 

While this earnest young disciple had been 
striving to lead the wanderer to God, Elder 
Peter, tho village stone-cutter, had been closeted 
with the minister, looking as hard as the ma- 



■MMMHIMMH 



^ 



S5SS 



/ 



214 



QEMS OF THE BOO. 



terial he wrought on. " Well, sir," he said, as 
he took the offered seat in Mrs. Murray's 
modest little parlor, " I've been hearin' strange 
tilings from my 'printice lads, o' the doin's 
of tliis young lad that's stoppin' with ye, 
— such a doin's for the Lord's day as I would 
not belave till I'd first ask yersilf. What's tiiis 
he's doing ? " 

" No evil, I'm sure," said Mr. Murray, re- 
turning the stony gaze of Elder Pete* very 
calmly. 

«« Well I heered that he'd been at the Killy- 
rooko lough consorting witii Papist boys, tell- 
ing them about pitchiu' quoits and ball-playin', 
and that ho bclaved in the Virgin Mary and 
every thing else they belaved ; and that there 
was just no differ at all betwixt the two reli- 
gions. And he passed silver about, like a fool, 
among the crowd, — it will all go for whisky 
and tobacco, — and worse nor all, who do you 
think he walked off" in company with ? Who 
but John Sheehau ! " 

Elder Peter's righteous indignation had well 
nigh taken away his breath before he got 



•c: 




) said, as 
Murray's 
' strange 

doiirs 
«rith yo, 

1 would 
liat's tills 

irray, ro- 
stCu* very 

!ie Kiily- 
oys, tcll- 
1-playiu', 
[ary and 
lat there 
two reli- 
ke a fool, 
r whisky 
} do you 
h? Who 

bad well 
) he got 



ELDER PETER. 



215 



;sm.- 




through this description of the modest youth's 
effort" at the play-ground. Mr. Murray went 
into a labored defense of his friend, pledging 
himself that no evil should be done through 
him to Protestantism in the town. 

But "though vanquished," Elder Peter 
"could argue still." He expressed great sur- 
prise that his minister should have trusted a 
u.cre boy on such an errand as that on which 
he was now gone. 

" He's jist quite a novice, supposiu' he's even 
sincere," he said. « What is he, a soft-hearted 
lad, to set the terrors of the law before that 
offender? He's been at my yard tellin' me 
'■ about the great awakeniu' they've had in his 
college ; and I think he's a visionary. I tried 
to sound him, but there was no depth, either to 
his experience nor yet to his Bible knowledge, 
lie was quite thick in his views o' Daniel's 
vision. I could not draw him into an argu- 
ment about Melchisedek ; and as to the Apo- 
calypse-why, he knew nothing of the correct 
interpretation of the living craturs full of eyes 
before and behind ! He had no more opinion 



BtS:;^' 



216 



OEMS OF TEE BOO. 



about tho scarlet beast with tlie seven heada 
and ton horns than a babe unborn ! " 

" But he's a new-born soul, elder ; wo must 
not look for wisdom in a child," replied Mr. 
Murray. 

" Ay, very good, minister ; and ought we to 
put a strong man's work into tho bauds' of a 
babe ? Answer me that, will ye ? " 

" I have done nothing for Sheehan," replied 
Mr, Murray, « but I saw no reason why he 
might not point him to Christ when ho desired 
to do so." 

" Yo've done nothing ? Didn't ye go twico 
or thrice to him, and he turn his back on ye ? " 

"But that was all I did, save to pray for 
him." 

" Well, I've done all I could as an elder o* 
the church," replied Elder Peter. 

" May I inquire what you have done, bro- 
ther, except to pray for him?" asked tho 
minister ; " for of course, you have done that." 

The elder hesitated a moment, but he was 
never at a loss for a passage of Scripture to 
suit his purpose. « Well, no, minister I have 



1 



ELDER PETER. 



m 



go twice 
on ye ? " 
pray for * 



not prayed for John Sheeliau. Do ye not mind 

a passage which reads, ' I say not that ye shall 

pi-ay for tlicso.' I regard hiin as one of ' these.' 

1 met him once in the road, and I scathed him 

with my conntenance. Then I refused to take 

my weekly supply o' eggs when he sent them ; 

and I've gone round the back road every time 

I've been up to the Hall with my rent, rather 

than countenance him by passing his door. 

My conscience is clear in his case, and I have 

no faitli in his repentance, 'less a mericle be 

performed to prove it. But the night wanes ; 

I must away." 

Just as Mr. Murray, candle in hand, opened 
the door to let the elder out, his young guest 
mounted the steps. 

" Oh, here he is, back from an errand which 
might make a very angel timid ! " exclaimed 
Elder Peter. 
The young man looked at him in surprise. 
" Listen to me, lad," he continued. " Did 
ye ever hear & one that ran before he was 
sent?" 
« Yes, sir," was the answer. 



Ill 




218 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



" Well, and so have I ; aud I've seen such an 
one, too. Good-niglit, minister; good-night, 
lad." And tlie elder walked forth in all the 
dignity of conscious orthodoxy. 





seen such an 

good-night, 

:h in all the 



CHATTER XX. 

DELIVEEANCR FROM EVIL. 

AFTER Mr. Murray had talked some time 
with John on tho following evening, he 
took liim to the cottage of Elder Peter, who 
actod in all church matters as if Peter of early 
fame had placed » the keys " in his hand when 
ho left the church militant behind him. 

Elder Peter first denounced the wanderer 
with the severity of faithfulness, and then, ap- 
plying all the thumb-screws and soul-screws ho 
could invent, put him through a course of 
questioning to test his sincerity and his hu- 
mility. 

» If the clnlrch (he meant himself, for all 
the others were meek and tender-hearted) 
should bid ye stand up afore the people for a 
public robukin', would ye do it?" he asked, 
Bbrply. 

m 







Mrai 



no 



GEMS OF TIIF. BOO. 



Ill 



" I would, sir," replied John, " before them 
and the Lord too." 

" If they bid yc go to every Catholic house 
in Killyrooke, and confess that yo were never a 
Cliristian, but a hypocrite and a Pharisee, 
would ye do it ? " 

" I will do that whether I'm bid or not, sir, 
because I owe it to Him whose name I have 
disgraced," replied John, humbly. 

" If they bid ye to give all yer goods to fee4 
the poor, and lave ycrself penniless, would ye 
do it?" And Elder Petor looked shrewdly 
from one corner of his eye, as if sure he had 
now struck the sore point. 

"I would, sir, and bo thankful that I had 
any thing to give, thus to prove my piui- 
tence," said John. 

" Would ye give yer body to be burned ? " 

« If God bid mo do that, I'd ask Him for 
grace and strength to do it," replied John. 

» Well, and if the church bid yc, would yo 
promise never to seek yer wife again ? For it 
may bo the desire for yer old peace, and not 




DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 



221 



oUc house 

iro never a 

Pharisee, 

)r not, sir, 
me I have 

ids to ief^A 

, would ye 

shrewdly 

ire he had 

that I had 
my pini- 

imed?" 
k nim for 
John. 
!, would yo 
II ? For it 
;o, and not 



tlBSK 




repentance for sin that leads ye here. Would 
yo promise this ? " 

"No, sir, not for all the churches in the 
world, I wouldn't. God is over all. Because 
I've broke my vow to Him and her, it is no rea- 
son I should keep on break! n' it. I shall seek 
her at once, and strive to atono for my past 
evil with tenfold o* love and tinderness, if she 
comes to me — but she never will. Forgive- 
ness like that would be more nor mortal." 

Elder Peter frowned. lie was there as an 
inquisitor, anii was not to be taught by such a 
sinner. " Then you make some resarve in this 
matter ?" he asked, harshly. 

" I resarve the right to cease doin* evil, and 
to make amends for the past," said John. 

"He's right there. Elder," whispered the 
minister, who was the only mortal to whose 
opinion the rigid man would yield. ♦* His 
confession is full and free, we must admit." 

" Well, Slieehan, I hope yo're sincere, and 
we'll overlook the past and try to respect ye 
again. Ye may take yor seat in tlio house o' 
God, next Lord's day, and PU loave the mat 




222 



GEMS OF TUB BOO. 



tei- o' the public rebukiu' to the minister's de- 
cision." 

The minister's decision was a very merciful 
one, — that John should call at the parsonage, 
and walk through the churchyard and into the 
church by his side. Tiiis would show the con- 
gregation that he had been forgiven and re- 
ceived into favor by the minister and elders , 
and would secure their pardon and pity for 
him. 

Elder Peter's sense of justice was as strong 
as his hatred of sin ; and ho said that, evil as 
was the heart of Nan O'Gormau, she ought not 
to be sent forth from the cottage penniless, — 
thus perchance to bo led into new sin. So ho 
ordered John, with Mr. Murray's approval, to 
place ton pounds in his hands for her, which 
could only be demanded by her in person. 

Mr. Murray, knowing John's timidity and 
weakness of purpose, wanted to encourage 
him. He therefore requested him to remain a 
few days in Cloynmally to look after the men 
who were laying out the garden attached to 
the little parsonage. Matters at the cottage, 



■^TTT? 



■^Hi;j..;..,vtj'^ii.WiH!' ' t!g-^ 








as strong 
it, evil as 
ought not 
milcss, — 
1. Bo ho 
proval, to 
lor, which 
'son. 

idity and 
[sncourago 
remain a 
> tho raon 
tached to 
cottage, 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVlL. 



223 



and a message from Elder Peter to Nan , on 
her return, were left with Paddy Mannon, who 
by this trust was greatly elevated in his own 
esteem. 

" God helps those who help themselves." 
Juat as soon as John had resolved, in tho fear 
of God, to break the chain that bound him, it 
was broken without a blow from his hand. 
Tiie day after he loft the cottage, Nan returned 
in high spirits, with two companions, to get her 
clothes, and to say " good-bye to all Killy- 
rooke, — tho dull old place where she'd wore 
out her best days for nothing." She an- 
nounced to Paddy that a new linen-mill had 
just gone into operation, about twenty-Qve miles 
away, and that she was going there to work 
with her friends. She was too young and too 
fair to spend her life milking cows and spin- 
ning flax ; and so they must get on as they 
could without her at Daisy Farm. The mea- 
sngo from Elder Peter was delivered, with an 
order to appear before him within ten days, or 
tho money would be made over to tho poor of 
tho parish. 



I 



i 



I 



<k 



4 



■« 



824 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



"Ten pounds is a power o' money!" ex- 
claimed Nan. " But I would nivcr go to yon 
elder for it, if it war a thousand ! I'll take 
Maid o' Longford instead, and sell her to 
farmer Blancy, whoso wife's long wanted her ; 
and the ten pound will pay for her." 

" When ye drive Maid o' Longford off, ye'U 
drive the farm with her and Paddy Mannon 
Btandin' on it! My darlin' mistliress' own 
cow, indado, that Mammy Honey give her ! 
Away with ye, or I'll have ye 'rested for a high- 
wayman ! " cried Paddy, in a towering pas- 
sion. 

In an hour, she and her friends were gone, 
and Paddy was on his way to boar the joyful 
news to John, and to implore him to " send off 
at once for the darlin' misthress, by the b'y 
that knew where to find her without huntin'." 

Cut both Mr. Murray and Elder Peter ad- 
vised John to put his cottage in its old order 
first ; for his lack of heart and Nan's lack of in- 
terest had told sadly on all witliin and around 
it. Tlie poultry houses wore almost empty ; 
the flowers were dead, and the vines Mammy 



wm 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 



225 



noy 



f« 



ex- 



go to yon 

I'll take 

ell her to 

anted her ; 
> 

i-d off, yo'll 
ly Mannon 
hress' own 

give her ! 
for a higli- 
vcring pas- 
were gone, 
■ the joyful 
) " send off 

by the b'y 
it huntin'." 
ir Peter ad- 
ts old order 
} lack of in- 
and around 
ost empty ; 
les Mammy 



Honey had loved and trained were tangled and 
broken, and disfigured with the dead leaves 
and stems of four summers. 

"When it was known in the village that the 
usurper was gone, and that John and Paddy 
were making preparations for Peggy's return 
— if return she would, — it gave general satis- 
faction. Some, in their pleasure, forgot that 
he had caused her exile, and took John by the 
hand when they met him, and said, " I wish ye 
joy, neighbor ! Can I help ye clare the place 
up for her comin' ? " 

Tiie lady of Harpley I all, herself a sad, 
neglected wife, knew the story of Peggy's 
wrongs and her quiet departure. Wlien she 
heard that she was expected back, she sent 
a man to the cottage with a gift of two young 
deer for pets, — the only door ever owned by a 
peasant in that region. She honored the gift 
by sending two blue ribbons to be tied around 
their necks on the day of Poggy's return, with 
a message that she should call at the cottage 
some day to see the woman who had always 

15 



mimth 



i 




li 



226 OEMS OF TEE BOG. 

Bct 8uch good examples to the people on the 

estate. , 

Soon after this, an old woman i i the neigh- 
borhood, who had received much kindness 
from both Mammy Honey and Peggy in times 
of sickness, tapped at the door of the cottage. 
John opened it, and looked in amazement at 
the burden of life she carried in her apron, the 
corners of which she held tightly in her hands. 
"Neighbor John," she said, "I've heard 
that the black cloud is broke over Daisy Farm 
and that the sun is overhead again. I've come 
with a small gift to her as is comin' back. 
Here's my best hin and fourteen fine eggs laid 
by herself. I'd like to %et her in the hin- 
house, that Peggy may have, at least, one little 
brood to feed,^she that loves livin' croatur's 

BO dear." 

Father Clakey, who rejoiced that Nan was 
gone and thus the offence removed from his 
flock, was seen, one morning, coming down 
the road with a huge pot of geranium, all 
aflame with flowers. 



I 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 



227 



people on the 

i i the uoigh- 
uch khidnesa 
»cggy in times 
)f the cottage, 
amazement at 
her apron, the 
\f in her hands. 
" I've heard 
er Daisy Farm 
lin, I've come 
[S comin' back, 
n fine eggs laid 
ler in tlio hin- 
, least, one little 
\ liviu' croatur's 

d that Nan was 
moved from his 
g, coming down 
)f geranium, all 



" Here, Mannon," he called over the hedge, 
" set this in yer misthrcss' little glass window, 
and till her it came with my respects. And 
mind J bid yc clarc np all tliis place, and trim 
the vines and sort up the flower-beds before 
her coming ; for she's a worthy, paceable 
body, and an example to these hathen savages 
that are breaking my heart with their con- 
duct." 

Paddy had scarcely done bowing to and hon- 
oring his " riverence," when an infirm old 
woman, who had suflFered sorely for warm 
stockings since Peggy's departure, came hob- 
bling into the little garden where Paddy was 
at work. *»*^ ' 

" I heerd, Paddy, that ivery body is Binding 
gifts to the raisthress but mysilf. But I've not 
a ha'peth to give. Wouldn't ye sufiFer me to 
wash the dairy or to sweep the kitchen to show 
my love ? " she said. 

" Och, dade I will, granny," cried the mas- 
ter of ceremonies. " I've got an ilegant job 
for ye, and one that I oflFered nather to his 
* riverence ' nor yet to the lady o' the Hall. 



.M 



mmmm 



MM 



Mm 



mourn 



.1 



228 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



Take yo the little flax-whccl that she loved so, 
and a bit o' soap. Go down to the lough, and 
there dip the wheel tin times iu the water. 
Thin scour it with the soap till yer arm is nigh 
broke. Thin dip it tin times more and wipe it 
dry. Burn the flax that's on it, and throw the 
ashes o't in tho lough, and put on frush flax 
tliat I'll give ye. And whin yer sure there's 
not a trace o' the evil hands on it, bring it 
back to its own place again." 

Old Monica set about her work joyfully, and 
when it was accomplished, she charged Paddy 
to "tell the misthrcss, or she would never 
know it was done." 

Cloynmally caught the spirit, and bulbs and 
shrubs were set out in the little flower-garden, 
and several good books laid on the table beside 

the old Bible. 

But it remained for Paddy to make the most 
marvelous change. One day hie master came 
iuto the kitchen, and found him with a hoe, 
minus the handle, down on his knees, scrap- 
ing the clay floor, beaten hard by the wear of 
a century, and whose hardness and evenness 



-~4 




DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 



229 



slio loved so, 
le lough, and 
in the water, 
r arm is nigh 
■e and wipe it 
ind throw the 
on frjsh flax 
r snro there's 
)n it, bring it 

J joyfully, and 

ihargod Paddy 

would never 

and bulbs and 

flower-garden, 

the tabic beside 

make the most 
lie master came 
im with a hoe, 
s knees, scrap- 
by the wear of 
s and evenness 



were John's pride. It was now as if a plough^ 
share had been run lightly over it in all direc- 
tions, a mass of broken clay and dust. 

" What are ye doing, man ? Look at this 
destruction ! " cried Jolin, with grief in Lis 
tone.' 

" Kape quite asy, masther, and I'll soon 
make all riglit agin," replied Paddy. "I'm 
but takin' off the top o' the clay, that the 
darlin' may not have to walk on the same 
floor yon one has trod these years." 

It was no easy job to smooth the floor again, 
but Paddy accomplished it; and in about ten 
days, with the approval of Mr. Murray, he set 
off on tho errand he )>id been looking and hop- 
ing for, for four weary years. 

John had urged Paddy to go to the city in 
his new working-clothes, but he disdained the 
thougiit of making so poor an appearance 
when he was going on such important busi- 
ness. 

"'Dade the ould masthcr's Sunday shute 
won't be new to thim where I'm goin', for 
they've seen thim afore, and were well plazed 




r*» s$!m^ ' '^ '« m t m j 



\ 



! 



230 



OEMS OF TUE BOO. 

too - for they all laughed very pleasant at me, 
Lfrom the grand lady o' the house to the 

„aids that fed me m the kitchen 1 1 « n o 
s„.all farmer's house, nor other workin man s 
ather, that I'm gom' to now," ho added toss- 

i„g his head proudly, "but to the raal gen- 



There's, a brass sign-board 



foot long, on the door, with their name out 
showin'ti.at it's ti.eimportantes^thmgm the 

world for people that passes to know who Uves 
Zithin. What's the good o' a lad havm. fine 
clothes if he's not to wear them wlun ho s 
among fme people? 'Dade, I'll wea o other 

John offered Paddy money to g. '»o post- 
chaise, but he seorned it as au in»muation of 

weakness. , , 

«rve been nigh forty year boastm that I 

■ could keep paee with post-horses on my owu 
two feet, and it would be a beggarly tlung to 

give it up now. 'Dade, I'll be my own post. 

horses," he said. 

John had given him a thousand messages 
before he set off; but he accompanied him a 
piece on the road repeating them. 




,^l 



asant at mo, 
louso to the 
en. It'8 no 
jrkiu' man's 
) added, toss- 
,1,0 raal gcu- 
ird — nigli a 
r name ou't, 
tiling in the 
low who lives 
ad havin' fine 
jin wljin he's 
'ca -0 other." 
g, he post<- 
iusiuuatiou of 

boastin' that I 

les on my own 

Tgarly thing to 

my own post- 

isand messages 
ampanied him a 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 231 

« Mind ye tell her, Paddy, that there's niyer 
been a sunbame in my heart since she left it ; 
that I've been honrly mournin' after her, but 
was too wake to break the chain. Tell her 
how I forsook God's house and shunned his 
people I and tell her all about the last sorrow 
in my soul for sin ; and tell her about the 
young jintlemau from the college that led mo 
to sec a ray — mind, it's but a small, feeble ray^ 
-of hope ; and say that if she will come 
back, it'll be a new John Sheehan she'll find 
at Daisy Farm, not the proud Pharisee she loft 
there, but a man humbled in the d-st and 
afcared to live lest ho sin more agiu a long- 
suffering God. Can ye remember all I've said 
to ye, Paddy?" 

« I'd have a bad memory if I couldn't," re- 
plied Paddy, " for ye've tould me ivery thing 
tin times over. I'll make all the confissions 
and promises, and I'll tell her the fine daring 
up we'v^ hud at the farm, and all about the 
young deer, and the priest's flowers and the 
books, and then she'll just fly to get back to 
the home she loved so dear." 



1 



iTinnimiimiiil lliti 



>a 



232 



GEM3 OF THE BOG. 



«rai not so suro o' that, Paddy," replied 
John, with a mournful shake of the head. 
"The fine folk will ha' learned her value by 
this time, and will strive to hinder her lavm' by 
hapin' abuses on me. And if this be so, and 
Bhe refuse to come back, tell her that war what 
I feared and what I dcsarvcd; and tell her 
though I niver see her more, she may hope 
that her prayers and the dear dead mother's is 
answered, and that poor John is saved -«o as 
by fire. Can ye remember that ? " 

The last words were evidently unintelligible 
to Paddy, but he did not admit it. " Oh, yes, 
I'll remimber it, and if I shouldn't, I'll make 
up something as fine as it. Now, gooQ-day 
to ye, masther. May good luck go with me, 
and 'bide with ye; and mind ye're faithfu to 
the cows and the rest o' the work while 1 m 
gone, so that I'll not find all in disorder when 
I retarns. See, there's the sun just peepin 
over the bog as he did the mornin' I conveyed 
her, with her blue box on my shoulder, to the 
wagoner at the turn o' the road. Fare yo 
well ! " 



^ 



?addjs" replied 
! of the head, 
id her value by 
Icr her lavia' by 

this bo so, and 
ir that war what 
d; aud tell her 
, she may hope 
dead mother's is 

is saved — so aa 

t?" 

tly unintelligible 
it it. " Oh, yes, 
)uldn't, I'll make 
Now, gooa-day 
uck go with me, 
i yo're faithful to 
e work while I'm 
iu disorder when 
sun just peepin' 
ornin' I convoyed 
ly shoulder, to the 
le road. Fare yo 



DELIVEIIANCE FROM EVIL. 23S 

And throwing his stick, on the end of which 
was a bundle, over his shoulder, the poor, 
faithful fellow trudged off on his long day's 
journey, whistling, 

" Will ye go to KdTin groTe! •• 






iiilMMMMIM 



■attfMliiiuMH 






■■I 



f 



CHAPTER XXI. 

PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 

Iy^O of the sunniest cliambcrs iu the liouae 
, had bcon assigned by Miss Grey to Peggy 
for the "orphan asylum." Under one of the 
A^indows was a heavy iron balcony, from which 
they could look hito the small gardens of two 
old residences, and t!ien olf at tho distant 
harbor, where wl>ite sails were always Happing 
impatiently, or quiet ships lying at anchor, as 
if resting after long and ^eary voyages. 
From this balcony, after tho simple lessons of 
tho morning wore over, tne humble teacher 
could always see something which suggested a 
subject of instruction to her little charge. 
One day she would tell them all she knew 
about the waters, and explain tho power of 
Him who holds them in tho hollow of His 

334 



^^ |i^'"'"i!yi!>f ' ^'jv»'i}y'i i ii "U'i)' 



Y'8. 

tho liouse 
ly to Peggy 

one of the 
from which 
ions of two 
tho distant 
lys flapping 
t anchor, as 
•y voyages. 
lessons of 
ible teacher 

suggested a 
ttlo charge, 
ill she knew 
ue power of 
illow of His 

334 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 235 

hand, and who fashions and preserves tho 
myriads of fish that fill them. 

So the trees, and flowers, and birds, few 
though they were, seen from a city window, 
were turned into teachers for the unfolding 
minds of tlie tlioughtful little girls. 

Having noticed the delight they took in 
flowers. Miss Grey, who had now fully re- 
gained her health and spirits, resolved to grat. 
ify their delicate taste. So she had deep 
wooden boxes, filled with rich earth, fixed 
around the three sides of the balcony by iron 
rods, and stocked with potted plants in bud or 
bloom. The intervening spots were reserved 
for seeds, that the children might watch their 
growth from the first tender sprout to tlio gor- 
geous blossom. 

On the balcony were two little chairs, with 
books, toys, and materials for dressing dolls, 
when the lessons and tlie half-hour's task at 
needle work were over. It was the summer 
school-room and tlio playhouse; a place of 
never failing amusement. 
One morning, as Bessie sat hemming a 



I 



'■ H;" ' » ! -j ir-. jjw.wmv. ' !"" 



236 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



coarso towel, her little sister, who was on her 
kiicca gazing earnestly into the black earth in 
" the garden," as the boxes were called, 
sprung up, exclaiming, " Oh, see ! God has put 
life into one little black seed, and given it a 
tiny green head, and it's just pooping up. 
And look, He's turned that red bud into a 
flower in tho night ! " 

Miss Grey, who was in tho room at tho time, 
consulting Peggy about some of her charities, 
stooped to look, and then said, " Yes, that U 
one of the seeds you called ' black peas,' a 
sweet-pea. It will grow into a delicate vine, 
and by-and-by have fragrant flowers." 
Peggy sighed heavily. 

"You're not sorry the poor little pea has 
broken its shell and come to life, I hope, Mis- 
thretis Sheehan, that you heave such a sigh as 
that? " asked Miss Grey. 

« No, ma'am, I'm glad for it, and for the 
children," — Peggy had ceased saying " chil- 
der," and many other Irish words, — "but 
sweet peas and pinks always bring back the 
past to my heart. I had scores o' twigs stuck 






j»j.,l Jn^IkAk-L *-<*fc. **• -^ 



mm^ 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS ORET'S. 237 



lo was on her 
•lack earth in 
were called, 

God has put 
nd given it a 

peeping up. 
1 bud into a 

a at the time, 
lier charities, 
' Yes, that is 
jlack peas,' a 
delicate vine, 
jrs." 

little pea has 
3, 1 hope, Mis- 
Buch a sigh as 

b, and for the 
saying " chil- 
\rord8, — " but 
ring back the 
o' twigs stuck 



hp in my little garden, and routid each one I'd 
plant a ring o' swcet-pcas ; and they'd climb 
up and cling to the twig and blossom till 
they'd fall over with their own weight. And 
the pinks, too, how Mammy Honey used to 
love them ! " 

" Are the pinks and sweet-peas all there 
now, and nobody to love them, mammy ? " 
asked little Marion. 

" I don't know, darlin', but I think they're 
all dead," replied Peggy. 

"Is every body dead there?" she asked 
again, leaning on Peggy's shoulder, and strok- 
ing her cheek tenderly, as she always did when 
she saw a shadow pass over her face. 

" No, darlin', I hope not," answered Peggy, 
lifting the child to her knee and resting her 
check on ^he bright little head. 

" Then why don't we go there, and plant the 
peas and pinks again ? Can we go some time, 
mammy ? " 

" Perhaps, darlin', if God bids us ; but we 
can't tell. We've a far finer home here." 

" No, Marion," said Miss Orey, " I can't 



: 



^ 



i 



■■I 



288 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



spare your mammy. Wl.at would blind Patty 
doifsLe did not visit licr and read to her? 
And how would .Id Molly keep her knitting 
women quiet for an hour to hear about Christ, 
if mammy was not there to give them yarn 
and tea, and to get their love ? I can't spare 
mammy when I'm sick, and tired and lonely. 
There's nobody in the world loves her as much 
aside; and nobody shall ever have her who 

doesn't love her." 

The children had heard stories of Killy- 
rooke, and of Mammy Honey, and of Paddy 
Mannon, but never of John. They looked on 
the place as a paradise of cows and calves, of 
hens and chickens. 

« Go now to your bedroom, and sing your 
dolls to sleep, darlin's, till I call you," said 

Peggy. 

When they were gone, she said in a low 
tone to Miss Grey, "For ten days I've been 
sore hindered in my prayers by Satan, o' 
whom I'm greatly afearod. Perhaps Pvo 
Binned, for I've long ceased to pray that I 
might go back to die in my own cottage. I've 



I blind Patty 
•cad to her? 
her knitting 
about Christ, 

them yam 
I can't spare 

id and lonely. 

1 her as much 
liavo her who 

.ries of Killy- 
and of Paddy 
Ijcy looked on 
md calves, of 

and singyovir 
all you," said 



said in a low 

days I've been 

by Satan, o' 

Perhaps I've 

to pray that 1 

a cottage. I've 




PADD7 MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 239 

looked on all of arth as lost to me, only for the 
good I'd do, and I've prayed only for John's 
soul, and not that ho might bo brought back 
repinting and seek mo out, and bo his old self 
again. 0' late, when I'd be on my knees, a 
question would rise, * Can ye forgive as ye 
hope to be forgiven?' And I'd say, 'Yea, 
Lord.' Then I'd ask my heart, ' Could I feed 
her that destroyed my peace war she hungry, 
and give her a drink war she thirsty ? ' And 
again I said, 'Yea, Lord.' Tiion came the 
question, ' Could ye go back to ycr homo and 
be the same lovin', true wife, and forget the 
past, if God bid ye ? ' And the very thought 
put me all a tremble. If I should but see 
John's face I'd fall dead at his feet. And I 
couldn't say 'yes,' to that. So I've an un- 
broken will yet left in mo." 

" I would never let you do that after the ill 
usage you have had," said Miss Grey. 

Ah, dear lady, but think what a little I've 
been called to bear. Scarce a harsh word 
from one but the poor blind Papists over the 
road, till I got this piercing o' my heart that 



nriw>'4fi >»T i^-tn ^ 



240 



QEMS OF TBE BOO. 



drove mo here. And mind what Josus Him- 
Belf suffoicd. Ho war abused and insulted by 
the great, and deserted even by Hia followers 
that he had chosen out o' the world, that He 
loved with an everlasting love. And yet hear 
Him on the cross : ' Father, forgive them, for 
they know not what they do.' " 

"Well, I shall not be anxious till I hear 
that you're sent for — which will never be. 
For if ever that man repents, he wiU bo 
ashamed to ask you back," said Miss Groy. 

" I had a bit o' a dramo last night," said 
Peggy. " I thought I was standin' in a gar- 
den, when I heerd a soft voice call my name as 
Mary at the sepulchre ; and like her I turned 
mo about and said, ' Master.' There stood the 
Master Himself, and He had my poor wan- 
derer fast by the hand, holding him up. I 
took the other hand in mine, and forgot we'd 
ever been estranged, and as tho Blessed Ono 
left us I saw His footprints like shinin' silver, 
and in striving to follow in His steps and to 
lead the wanderer on, I woke. For a little 
time I was troubled thinking p' the past, but 



M^ 



mmmmmmm. 



lat Jesus Him- 
and insulted by 
f Ills followers 
world, that He 
And yet bear 
brgive them, for 

ious till I hear 

will never bo. 
nts, he will bo 
I Miss Grey, 
last night," said 
audin' in a gar- 
call my name as 
like her I turned 

There stood the 
i my poor wan- 
iing him up. I 
, and forgot we'd 

the Blessed Ono 
,ko shiniu' silver, 

His steps and to 
oke. For a little 
ig o' the past, but 



PADDY MAyirON AT MISS ORET'S. 241 

before the light came in at the window the 
groat- peace was back again in my soul, and 
I've not thought o' the drame since till the 
little lambie asked, * Can't we go there and 
plant the flowers again ? '" 

" Misthress Sheehan," said Miss Grey, " do 
you not think you are doing far more for the 
suffering here than you could do — even if all 
was well in your own home, — cooped up la 
that little hamlet among those debased Papists 
who will not hear you read or listen to your 
advice ? " 

" Well, perhaps, ma'am, but I can't tell. I 
made a happy home there, and strove to do a 
little outside for friend and foe. Killyrooke is 
a small place, but it's full o' souls ; and ye can 
never know bow Mammy Honey loved them 
and longed for their salvation." 

Tlic conversation might have gone on longer, 
but for n bustle and a sound of laughter in the 
hall outside the cbambor door. After tapping, 
two maids, redolent with smiles and blushes, 
appeared together. Each was ambitious to 
tell the news first. 

16 






/- 



i 




242 



QEM8 OF TUB BOG. 



" Well, what's tliis trifling about now ? " 
asked Miss Grey, without a smile. 

" Please, ma'am," they both said in a breath. 
" Susan," said the lady, " be quiet, and let 
Mary tell what's going on." 

"Please, ma'am, yon queer dressed farm- 
man,— the little man in the big clotlics, — is 
come again to see Misthress Shechan. When 
I opened the door at his ringin', he was sitting 
on the steps untying his wooden-soled brogues, 
and he took them in his hand and walked into 
the passage in his stockin's. He told us to 
say to Misthress Sheehan that 'one Paddy 
Manuon was wantin' to spake with her.' " 

Miss Grey glanced at Peggy, whoso face was 
as white as marble, and asked, " Shall the 
man come up ? " 

" Yes, and plaze, dear lady, tarry yo too, for 
I'm just faintin' at thought o' what has 
brought him. May be his masther's dead." 

" Oh, no fear of that," said Miss Grey, almost 
sarcastically. "This ridiculous fellow has 
taken the journey, as he did before, merely to 
see you. Here ho is." • 




pwi'^i i ""^ 



00. 

g about now ? " 
kilo. 

said in a breath. 
JO quiet, and let 

er dressed farm- 
big clotlics, — is 
Slieoliau. When 
u', ho was sitting 
en-soled brogues, 
1 and wallted into 
. He told us to 
tliat ' one Paddy 
I with her.' " 
y, whoso face was 
,sked, " Sliall the 

y, tarry yo too, for 
;ht o' what has 
Esther's dead." 
I Miss Grey, almost 
iulous fellow has 
1 before, merely to 



PADDT MANNON AT SflSS ORET'S. 243 

Paddy, with Iiis shoes in one hand and his 
stair and bundle in the other, came a step or 
two into tlie room, very shyly ; but catching a 
glimpse of his mistress in her black dress and 
Ii.r muslin cap, he was so overawed by her 
gi aiuleur, tliat ho stepped back again into tho 
passiigc. Miss Grey said, " Corao in," but it 
was not till she rose and opened tho door that 
lie ventured to do so. Then ho exclaimed, in 
woiulcr,"Pd niver a knowed ye, dear. How 
white yer hair is gettin' with the throublc, and 
how grand yo look in tho fine clothes ! Sure, 
yc'rc dressed like Misthress Murray herself." 

"Paddy," asked Peggy, i,i a tremulous 
tone, " is all well with yo ? " 

" 'Dade it is, misthress, and better too ! " 
exclaimed Paddy. 

" Lay down yer stick and give me yer hand, 
my poor friend," slio said. 

This done, Paddy's sudden reserve gave 
way, and he said, looking first at one of his 
listeners and then at the other, « Pve fino 
news to till ye. The O'Gormans is all dead 
and in the workhouse, and their cottage 



844 OEMS OF THE BOG. 

burned. We've been convartcd at Daisy 
Farm, and we've confissed our sins, and ro- 
pinted o' the same, and got back into the 
church again, and walked into tlie pew by the 
side o' Mr. Murray, after gcttin' lave of Elder 
Peter, and yon one's gone oflf to work in the 
mills, and the clay floor's all scraped by thim 
two liands" — which he held up, — « and the 
flax wheel scoui-ed with soap and sand in tlio 
loug'.i, and tlio flax that was on it burnt up, 
and tlio ashes thrown into the dipths of the 
Bea, and the vines all trimmed up, and flowers 
growin', and a pot o' scarlets, sint by his river- 
ence, in the little glass windy, and two young 
deers, a o-ift from the hall, and a sittin' hin 
with wurteen fine eggs under her, and himself, 
the rocsther, all dros'>o.l in his hist clothes 
sLi..u' waitin' to see ye back, and I'm sint for 

ye." 

l>-dd/ scarcely took breath during this 
speech, which he delivered in such an excited 
manner as to lead Miss Grey to think him 
crazy. But by degrees, and after many ques- 
tions, Peggy got the whole stDry out of him. 



..« ^ i i ir i i<..id»w ii i > iii" ;^- 



to. 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 245 



irtcd at Daisy 
iir sins, and ro- 
t back into tho 

tho pew by the 
ill' lave of Elder 
J to work in tho 

scraped by thitn 

1 up, — "and tho 
and sand in tho 

1 on it burnt up, 
he dipths of tho 
id up, and flowers 
, siut by l»is river- 
y, and two young 
and a sittin' hin 
■ her, and himself, 
I his bist clothes 
, and I'm sint for 

oath during this 
in auch an excited 
Jrey to think him 
I after many ques- 
itDry out of him. 



" And what message did Mr. Murray send 
by yc, Paddy ? " slie asked. 

" He bid ye come back," replied Paddy ; 
" but here's a letter from Mr. Murray himself 
to Miss Grey. But I it was that complated 
tlic work, though I never told it afore. I gavo 
Kitty Connors half i.iy last quarter's wages to 
fill yon one's head with tho fine time they'd 
have at the new mill where herself was goin' 
to work, and to take her over thero to a dance 
they liad afore the openin'. They war gone a 
week, and it was one long holiday to them, 
and life at tho cottage looked dull beside it. 
So I it was that did, in the latter end, what 
tho dead misthress said Pd do — do ye 
mind ? " 

" Yes, Paddy, I mind, but I'm bewildered 
oulirely now, and can not think. But why, 
when yer masthcr has caused all this sorrow — 
look at my white hair, and me only at middle 
life — if he has repinted, why didn't he come 
himself instead of sending ye ? " 

" Because for two Reasons. Tho first was, 
he was afeared o' Miss Grey, the fine lady; 






I 



■f^-^ 



flf" 



246 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



and the sicoiid was that I wouldii;t sjiffur hiin, 
but was dctarmiiied to come mysilf, as I prom- 
ised yo. Didn't yersilf till me whiniver I see 
my mastlier broke down and Immbled, to coine 
afHr ye raysilf ? " 

" Zos, Paddy, but I little draraed it would 
take four long years to bring l»im back to his 
sinses," replied Peggy. 

*' She can never go back," cried Miss Grey. 
" Your master does not deserve such a wife. 
And how could she ever live in that crazy old 
shieling, after passing four years amid such 
comforts as these ? " 

" 0, dear heart, the comforts would niver 
cost mo a thouglit," replied Peggy. "I'm 
bound to yo by a thousand cords o' love ; but 
if I could know the groat Masther's will Pd do 
it." 

"But, Misthress Sheehan," said the lady, 
" think of tlie children ; but for you I should 
never have taken this responsibility. I can 
leave them nothing, as this property all goes to 
nephews at my death. But if you romaiu, you 
can fit them to earn their bread in somo re- 






.MlMt(»j*'*.««^«- ' 



■MMtv 



f- 



mm 



BOG. 

•uldii;t sjiffur hiin, 

mysilf, as I prom- 

rae whiniver I see 

humbled, to coine 

draraed it would 
a bim back to his 

' cried Miss Grey. 

iserve such a wife. 

a in that crazy old 

years amid such 

iforts would uivei 
led Peggy. " I'm 
. cords o' love ; but 
[asther's will I'd do 

n," said the lady, 
it for you I should 
5ponsibility. I can 
property all goes to 
if you romuiu, you 
f bread in some re- 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 247 

Bpoctal)le way. Otherwise, they will be cast on 
(ho world when I am gone." 

" Dear lady," cried Peggy, " when I tuk the 
Iambic.^ to my lieart it was for my own. I 
will niver ".ast them off. Wiieu I go, they will 
go too," 

" You may go now, my good man," said 
Miss Grey, " and get your dinner at an inn. 
Tiien, if you are not too tired, you can walk 
about and look in the shop windows till bed- 
time. Hero are two crowns to pay for your 
diiuicr and your lodging. You can come back 
to see Misthress Slicehan to-morrow." 

Paddy drew his hand behind him as far as 
possible from the proffered silver. 

" I'm not a poor man, lady ! " ho cried, rais- 
ing his head till it came almost above the col- 
lar of his coat. " I'm a man as can command 
my own price, and gets thirty-five shillings a 
quarter! I'm not a child, to accept pence, 
but a man, with all the money I nadcs, and 
pliiity to spare to the poor ones. And more 
nor that, ma'am," said Paddy, with a low bow, 
" if it's iver yer fortiui' to walk from Killy- 



i 



i 



i 



248 



QEMS OF THE BOO. 



rooke to this city, yo'll be glad enough o' a 
bed, 'stead o' stariu' in at shop windows ! If I 
ouco gets into a bud at the inn I'll bide iu it a 
week. I came after my misthress, aud not 
Bcekiu' shows." 

When Peggy had Paddy alone the next day, 
she said to him, " I can not go back with ye, 
poor, faithful boy. Ye see how I'm fixed here 
with the little ones ; I could not leave them, 
nor yet could I take them with me without yer 
masthcr's lave. Tell him, Paddy, I've long 
ago forgiven him, and that I've been just suro 
that God would, sooner or later, bring him to 
Himself, and lot mo take him to Mammy 
Honey at last. But tell him that after all that 
has passed, himself, and not ye, ought to take 
me back to my homo, that my neighbors may 
see that ho desires mo there, and loves me 
still. And toll him, Paddy, that o' all tho fine 
things I'vo seen here there's nothing so beauti- 
ful to rao as my own little cottage, and that I 
can return and bo the same faitliful wife as I 
Ivor was. And toll him that tho peaco o' God 
still 'bides with my sperit, and that through all 



t »a.«« i i» i mi'i« l '« »« » 



wmm. 



ad enough o' a 

windows ! If I 

n I'll bide iu it a 

sthress, aud not 

lie the next day, 
go back with ye, 
w I'm fixed here 
not leave them, 
mo without yer 
'addy, I've long 
e been just suro 
Qr, bring him to 
liim to Mammy 
hat after all that 
re, ought to take 
r neighbors may 
e, and loves mo 
lat 0* all the fino 
othing so boauti- 
ttage, and tliat I 
faithful wife as I 
the peace o' God 
. that through all 



PADDY MANNON AT itI88 GREY'S. 

my sorrow the lovin' Master has been iver at 
my side, -thai I almost see Him by mo now. 
And 0, rjady, don't ye be so plased about yer 
poor masther's bcin' convartod as to forget 
that ye too have a soul, and that it's as worth 
savin' as his. Remember all this, Paddy, if I 
shouldn't see yc agin alone." ^ 

Notwitljstanding Paddy's noble independ- 
ence, ho consonted to stay three or four days 
at an inn at Miss Grey's expense. He also do- 
Bccnded so far from his dignity as to yield tho 
controversy he had kept up with the post- 
chaise and horses, and to compromise matters 
by riding home with Barney, the wagoner. 
But he was sorely humbled by the result of his 
mission. Ho had gone forth proud and boast- 
ful, taking to himself all the honor of tho good 
work at the cottage, and saying, " Tliere's just 
but only one man on the round arth tliat can 
bring the jewel back, and that' man's mysilf — 
Paddy Mannou. And look out for the day ye 
SCO U8 rotarnin' together triumphant to Killy- 
rooke!" Poor, crestfi. ju Paddy! All he 



p^ 



Kl 



250 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 




had gained personally by his long tramp was 
Bore disappointment, deep mortification and 

aching limbs. ^^ 

Wlien be readied " the turn of the road 
where the wagoner set him down, he seated 
himself on a pile of stones, saying, resolutely, 
"Now, Paddy Mannon, sit here till ye die, 
afore ye enter Killyrooke alone. My heart's 
broke hi my bussum ; yis, tin times broker nor 
it war tlie day I laid my jewel Meg in the 
grave, intiroly. Here I'll 'bide and die o' 
ather hni.gor or starvation. And then the 
ministhor, and Elder Peter, and the miserable 
masthor will cry tears above me, and say, 
« There war a fine, faithful lad ! ' Farewell to 
ye, ilegant green arth and blue skies ; fare- 
well, craturs I've fed and housed so tinder; 
farewell, Masther John, that's been the dith o' 
poor Paddy. Dig me a grave beside Meg, and 
let mo hide mysilf in it afore any body in 
Killyrooke will taunt me with the disgrace o' 
comin' back alone, and nobody with me! 
Those is the last words o' Paddy Mannon, late 




3ng tramp was 
ftification and 

I of the road " 
)wn, lie seated 
iug, resolutely, 
ire till ye die, 
le. My heart's 
mcs broker nor 
b1 Meg in the 
de and die o' 
And then the 
id the miserable 
, me, and say, 
1» Farewell to 
ue skies; fare- 
used so tinder; 
been the dith o' 
beside Meg, and 
»re any body in 
I the disgrace o' 
body with me! 
Idy Maunon, late 



llllpnHilMBIIRPW 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GRET'S. 251 



of Killyrooko, parish o' Cloynmally, county 
Connaught, Ireland." 

Tlio first twinge of hunger, — the seat of 
that malady being tlie most sensitive part of 
Paddy's system, — drove all sentimentalism 
out of him; and about an hour after he had 
uttered his « last words," ho' took up his stick 
and bundle and mado his way to Cloynmally, 
and delivered Miss Grey's letter to Mr. Mur- 
ray. That gentleman saw no cause for such 
deep gloom as Paddy's, and told him "that his 
mistress would, doubtless, be at homo in a 
fortnight, with tbe two little girls. 

Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, 
" Yo've not seen yon Miss Grey, that has the 
kapin' of her. To hoar her talk, ye'd think 
the worst evil that could befall a woman was 
to have a husband at all. She ivident hates 
the whole nation of men, and was but barely 
civil, aven to mysilf. I'll nivcr face Masther 
John with the bad news." 

Mr. Murray offered to go homo with him, as 
Miss Grey's letter was for his master's benefit, 
and must bo read to him. It was like the sur- 




252 0EM8 OF THE BOO. 

geon's lance, severe, but potont ; and both de- 
cided that, painful as it would be, John him- 
self must go for Peggy. 



t i 



.<;■- 



':. :>:f^ 



amamr . 



miimmtuimm* 



■inpm 



'■:?.. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



A HAPPY " HOMB-BRINOma." 

IT was true, as Paddy had stated, that Miss 
Grey was no admirer of " the nation of 
men." She had seen poor specimens in her 
own family, two sisters having married men 
who spent tlieir money and then broke their 
hearts. So she had steeled her own heart 
against the sex, even in her charities. 

But the deep humility of poor John, and the 
solemn awe that marked his face and his 
voice, when he came for Peggy, touched lier, 
so that the rebuke and the advice she had in 
store for him were all forgotten when they 
met. She soon ceased to think of him as the 
vile wretch she had almost hated, and found 
herself listening with tearful eye to the simple 
tale of his wanderings and of his conversion 
to God. She now acknowledged him as a 

903 



I 
1 



f 




sti 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



brother, and spoke of him as " poor Sheehau," 
and not as " that miserable man." Sbe be- 
came so softened towards liim that, groat as 
was the sacriEce, she consented cheerfully to 
Peggy's departure. She promised to provide 
for the little girls under her charge until they 
should be able to take care of themselves. 
Not to make the change too great from tlie 
pleasant chambers where they now lived, she 
insisted on sending to Killyrooke a load of 
furniture, bedding, books and toys by Barney's 

wagon. - > V 

"Sheehan," she said, before parting with 
the family, " as you are not a poor man, I'm 
going to make a request that may seem 
strange to you. I don't think that cottage of 
yours is good enough for such a wife as you 
have. You must add a room to it, and lay a 
board Hoor there, and put a glass window in 
every room. I shall send the ' asylum ' carpet 
for the new room, and the table, and the 
chairs; and do you make Misthress Sheehan 
as comfortable as possible, and see that the 
little girls help her in every way they can." 



A HAPPY " BOME-BRlNOINa." 



255 



jor Sheehau," 
an." She bo- 
that, groat as 
[ cheerfully to 
jed to provide 
irge until they 
of themselves, 
jreat from the 
now lived, she 
oke a load of 
jys by Barney's 

e parting with 
poor man, I'm 

hat may seem 
that cottage of 

li a wife as you 
to it, and lay a 

glass window iu 
asylum ' carpet 
table, and the 

sthress Sheehau 

ind see that the 

ly they can." 



Juhu expressed his gratitude, and promised 
to make the improvements she suggested. 
But Peggy's pale face flushed as die said, — 

"But, dear Miss Grey, I'm afeared about 
the carpet. Perhaps the poor things that I'm 
hopln' to benefit there might think me proud, 
and so grow invious ; and I dar'u't do any 
tiling to drive them from me. I've great hope 
I'll do them good, and so must be just one o' 
themselves still." 

"Don't tell me that!" cried Miss Grey. 
" I know more of human nature than you do, 
Wistross Sheeliaii, and I know that the igno- 
rant take instruction more kindly from supe- 
riors than from equals or inferiors. And, al- 
tliough you were not a whit above themselves, 
they'd listen to you with more respect in your 
black dress and your muslin cap than in the 
old linsey-woolse) and cotton. When the car- 
pet is laid, rid the new windows put iu, 
there's no doubt you will have admirers 
enough. And thoso who come to gaze will 
stay to listen." 

" But, ma'am, there's not a carpet in the 



mUKMkm 



^ 



256 OEMS OF TOE BOO, 

town only at tho ' Hall,' and the priest's, and 
the minister's. Mrs. Murray has but one, - 
iu her best parlor," said Peggy. 

"Well, you deserve as good a carpet as 
Mrs. Murray, and I shall not let you go 
till you promise to put it down," said Miss 

Grey. 

Peggy consented, but not without some 
fears lor her influence in Killyrooke. 

« And when ye send me garments to make 
for the little maids," she said, « ye'U remcm- 
Ver that they'll be just poor people's children, 
ana ..ot send things too fine, to make them- 
Bclvcs vain or others invious." 

" Certainly, Mistress Sheehan, it is all im- 
portant that they are taught their position 
now Keep them always in neat pinafores at 
school, and in plain, comfortable dresses and 
hats at church. Train, and feed, and dress 
them as if they were really your children, and 
I will Answer for their being good women," 

said Miss Grey. ^ 

« Ay, dear Miss Grey, they are tho makm 8 
o' lovely women by natur'," said Peggy, " and 







3. 

le priest's, and 
has but one, — 

)d a carpet as 
lot let you go 
wn," said Miss 

without some 
•ooke. 

irraciits to make 
i, « ye'll romcin- 
)eople's children, 
, to make tliem- 

an, it is all ira- 
it their position 
neat pinafores at 
able dresses and 
feed, and dress 
our children, and 
g good women," 

;y are the makin's 
said Peggy, " and 



A HAPPY " nOMEBRINGINa." 



257 



tlic comfort they have been to me in my sor- 
row is wonderful. I've just tlic love o' a 
mother to them, and many the time I've 
thought that all that's been allowed to come 
on me might yet work out for double good 
to them and to us." 

"I believe," said Miss Grey, "you were 
truly sent hero to school — to be fitted for fu- 
ture work. You have becu a faithful learner. 
I dou't believe your old neighbors will know 
you as the sliy woman they knew four years 
ago. Do you remember how you sufiered 
wiieu my poor mother insisted ou your read- 
ing the Bible aloud to her ? Now you can 
read to half a dozen without trembling, or 
s])elling, cither." - 

Peggy smiled, and replied, " Yes, and not 
stop at the long words, ather, as 1 did then. 
I wonder ivery day how iver ye bore with ray 
shy, stupid ways in thim days, and shall strive 
to return yer kindness by makin' good use o' 
the tachin' I've got in this blisscd home. 
And if sickness or sorrow come to ye, remem- 







OEMS OF THE BOO. 

ber yc'vo always a sarvant to bid to ycr side iu 
me, — day or nigiit, ma'am." 

When arrangements were being made for 
tbc journey, Peggy begged to go back in Bar- 
ney's wagon, as she should feel easier there 
than if crowded- up among strangers. Beside 
that, she wanted to see the kind man •■> in, 
and to tell him that the Providence he had 
called "luck" had made all bright with her, 
as he had prophesied. 

As Miss Grey declined the honor of having 
Barney's establishment drawn up before her 
door to receive four passengers, he was or- 
dered to take the furniture and luggage; and 
the family walked on and seated themselves nx 
his high wagon, when he arrived at the mn 
where he always put up. 

The greeting between Barney and Peggy 
was like that of old friends, and as soon as 
they had cleared the stones of the city streets, 
Peg.ry introduced John and the children to 
him%nd asked very kindly after his wife, m 
whose sorrows she had felt so much sympathy. 



■f- 




pmpMwi 



MM 




OG. 

Did to ycr side in 

being made for 
go back in Bar- 
feel easier there 
;rangers. Beside 
kind man « "in, 
ovidence he had 
I bright with her, 

honor of having 
vn up before her 
ugers, he was or- 
ind luggage; and 
ited themselves in 
irrived at the inn 

tarney and Peggy 
Is, and as soon as 

1 of the city streets, 
id the children to 
[y after his wife, in 

80 much sympathy. 



A HAPPY " HOMEDRINGINO: 



259 



" 0, she's well," ho replied. " Yo mind 
1 wiis telling ye yon day what a sore heart she 
had about the little fellows wo buried, and how 
t;ikcn up she war with you Methodises in our 

town ? " 

"Yes." 

" Well, when I returned home after dis- 
chariring ye at the lady's door, I told her all 
about yo and yer throubles — the cause o' 
which I didn't know. I told her what ye said 
about ' hick ' bein' the hand o" God, and about 
the great [)cace ye'd got in yer own soul, and 
the good advice ye gave me about uiy soul. 
And what does my wifo do but go tell it all to 
the Methodia' ladcr, and the next meetin' they 
had, they all fell to prayin' for ye, and to 
givin' thanks for the marcy o' God to ye in 
yer sorrow. They culled yo right out by 
name, and first one prayed that yer sorrow, 
whatever it was, mig< t work for yer glory, 
and then another that yer ' .;. 'Jays might be 
ycr usefulest and \\p ^^'ui&i day *. If ye'd been 
one o' thimsiives, '.ear Ik rt. they couldn't 
made more izoisf? a', nut it,' id Barney, who 



I 




2G0 OEMS OF THE BOG. 

bad put the reins in John's hand that he 

xnight turn round and converse with Peggy. ^^ 

"lam just one of themselves, dear man, 
Bhe replied. » All who love the Lord are just 
te hoV, and Christ is our head. When yo 

,0 back, tell them dear saints that the Lord 
L taken away my grief, and that rm now 

blessed with two davlin' little ma.ds as war 
„.otherless afore, and that He has gnen mo 
such a power o' courage that I can spealc, and 

read, and sing to as many neighbor-women as 
.miisten to me, about Christ. But, greater 
norai,IVegottl.e blessings o'.alvat.on for 

,„y husband, the son o' the holy woman I told 
ye of; and we too are now to strive for Uke 

Lrcy for our neighbors. And tell mo now, 

how is it with yer own soul?" 

upoor enough," replied Barney, "as far as 

being convarted goes. The wife talks much 
like yersilf, and has joined herself to than 
Methodises, and is soro worried about me 
She confisses that I'm another man from the 
onoo'pastdays;fo. I've uiver swore an oatl. 

Biuco the day I promised ye I wouldu t, and 



,j;i|Hg M : jtJ ?Hll W »»M'»W"»»'' 



'a liand, that be 
:sc with Peggy. 
Ivea, dear man," 
the Lord arc just 

head. When yo 
uts that the Lord 
,ud that I'm now 
ttle maids as war 
He haa given mo 
it I can speak, and 
neighbor-women as 
irist. But, greater 
igs o' salvation for 

holy woman I told 
,w to strive for lilce 

And tell mo now, 

I?" 

I Barney, " as far as 
lio wife talks much 
nod herself to thira 

worried about mo. 
nother man from the 

uivor swore an oath 
I ye I wouldn't, and 



A HAPPY " nOMEBRINGINO: 



261 



I'm strivin' not to hate tho Papists ; but 
that's harder nor givui' up the swariu', I'm 
doin' all in my power to be a Christian, such 
as will suit my wife ; for beside wantin' to go 
to heaven at last, I'd bo glad to make her 
liappy, for slie's had a soro life o't, poor thing, 
one way and ajiother. But for all my tryin' 
it's a small headway I make, this fov." 

" Then stop tryin' to quit this and to do 
that, dear man," said Peggy. " What would 
yc say to a wagoner that was trying to make 
his journey by whippin' dead horses ? " 

" I'd say ho war a fool, intiroly," replied the 
wagoner. 

" And yet yo're doing just that same. 
Ye'ro dead in trespasses and sins, and yo're 
whipping up and cheerin' on ycr dead heart 
and dead will, hopin' they'll got yo to heaven 
liy-and-by. Now quit this folly, and in yer 
dead and helpless state go to Christ for life. 
It's by Ilim, and not by onv dead selves, that 
wo make this journey, or else we'll fall by tho 
road and porish. Now if one promise made 
to luo isas liolpod yo to keep from open sin, 



<..,. 




262 OEMS OF TBE BOO. 

„»ay be another will bclp ye to Christ. Will 
yo cease striving to make yersilf holy, and go 

to Him just as ye are, and beg for a sheu-em 

His holiness? He has plenty o' it to dmdo 
among us all, and then have pcrfcethohncss 

left. Will ye go to him thus, and not u.suU 
Him by expectin' to get credit for not profan- 
ing His holy name, and the like wickedness ? 
" I will," said Barney, in a subdued tone, 
u And give my love to yer wife, and all the 
Methodises, and tell them the Lord heard 
them for mo. Vorhaps H.o times 1 ve bem. 
lifted above all nrll.nnd felt like them that 
wan takouou to the mount with lumself and 
BawIIis glory, wuH just when they was plead- 

,,^, ,,,, ,„., It's a short road that's between 
them that's separated, when that road lies past 

the mercy-seat." . 

John, who hud many times i«tl«n tbo rems 

i„„iHlerM.and while he wiped his tearn away 
with the right, turned round now and asked 
Foggy, "Couldn't yo sing yon hymn o 
Charles Wesley's to the good man ? " 
. Ay, if bo'd like," said Peggy, " aud liUle 



4^^ 



m 



A HAPPY " HOME-BRINGINO." 



263 



9. 

J Christ. Will 

If holy, and go 

for a share iu 

o' it to divide 
perfect holiness 
8, and not insult 

for not profan- 
;o wickedness ? " 
subdued tone, 
wife, and all the 
tlio Lord heard 

times I'vo been 
It like them that 
with himself and 
m tlicy was plead- 
ad that's between 
that road lies past 

08 iakofi the reins 
pod liis tears awny 
ind now and asked 
ing yon hymn o' 
:)d man 1 " 
Poggy, " aud little 



Bessie may put in with her swate voice, too, 
for she's lamed it lovely." 
And they sang, in clear, sweet tones, — 

" Depth of mercy ! can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me T 
Can my God his wrath forbear, 
Me the chief of sinners spare T " 

Before Peggy's departure from her house, 
Miss Grey had written to Mr. Murray ask- 
ing him to receive her at the " turn o' the 
road," and while they were lumbering on in 
Barney's wagon, talking and singing, Paddy 
was waiting by the heap of stones where he had 
uttered his " last words " several days before, 
with the donkey wagon. When they came in 
siglit, he, in true oriental stylo, lifted up his 
voice and wept. He took Peggy and the little 
girls out of the wagon in his arms, and in his 
foolisli joy attempted to do the same for John ; 
but his love couldn't work miracles. After an 
alToctionate farewell to Barney, Peggy was sur- 
prised to see Mr. Murray standing near them. 

With a kind greeting, ho said, " Mrs. Mur- 
lay scuds mo to bring you all to her for a cup 



MH 



-f- 



■k 




264 



OklUS OF THE BOG 



of tea, and then you can walk to tlio cottage 
in the evening." 

Tliis was an act of condescension which 
hronght blushes to Peggy's cheek, but notic- 
ing how Paddy's counteuanco fell, she was 
going to decline tho invitation, when Mr. 
Murray said, — 

" And Paddy must come back when he's 
taken home his load and put up the donkey. 
Kate and Tim will be glad if he'll join them 
at a cup of tea in the kitchen." 

Paddy's face was radiant with smiles, and 
bowing almost to tho ground, ho exclaimed, 
*' Yer riverenco is a jintleraan, and I'll l)« back 
in less nor an hour — as soon as Pve milked, 
and daconted myself up fit for the honor, in 
my bist shuto." 

A smile passed over the faces of the little 
group, and thus encouraged, Paddy caught off 
his old hat, and striking a heroic attitude, 
spoke the following " varses " .mpromptu : 

•• When from her home the misthress wint. 
Poor Paddy howled a loud laralnt ; 
And all the time she war away, 
Bhe aarvod a lady named A. Iss Grey. 



A HAPPY " homebrinoinq: 



265 



isceusiou which 
heek, but notic- 
fell, sho was 
ticn, when Mr. 

back when bo's 

up the donkey. 

' ho'U join them 

vith smiles, and 
i, iio exclaimed, 
, and I'll 1)0 back 
as I've milked, 
for the honor, in 

aces of the littlo 
Paddy caught otf 
heroic attitude, 
' .'.mvromptu : 

nlsthress wint, 

imlnt ; 

ly, 

88 Qrey. 



" And in thim four long, cruel yean 
Paddy shed buckets full of tears; 
Ilia checks grew thin, his hair grew gray. 
His sinses well nigh flew away. 

" So often Paddy told his beads, 

He wore thim down to mustard seeds; 

He nather laughed, nor ate, nor slipt. 

But howled, and sighed, and groaned, and wipt. 

" But now the storm is passed away. 
The misthress comes again to-day, 
Long shine the sun on Daisy Farm ! 
And keep the cottage safe from harm. 

" Here Paddy throws his beads away. 
And from the misthress lams to pray ; 
No more a Papist lad he'll be. 
But Protestant, as all shall see." 

And witli this pledge he took aim and threw 
his beads as far as ho could down the road, 
and then hastened homo with his load, that he 
might prepare for his return to the parson- 

Wiien the moon ro80 high, shedding a silver 
lijj;ht over the landscape, and giving a charm 
even to the poor cottages on tlio road, the 
littlo family, accompanied by their faitliful 
minister, walked from Cloynmally to the cot- 



J 



J 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 

tage. John carried the eldest child in his 
arms, while Paddy brought up the rear with 
the other on his shoulder, galloping and oc- 
casionally neighing like a horse for her amuse- 
ment. 

When the neighbors saw a light twinkling 
from the cottage window, and heard the voice 
of prayer and praise ascending on the still air, 
they knew that old things had passed away, 
and that all things had become new '-here. 





CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FABM. 

TO the little girls, who had rarely seen a 
green field, Killyrooko, with its acres of 
flax and barley, was like a picture of fairy- 
land. The low, rude cottage was a wonder 
to them, ;ind the flowers and vines about it 
wore a source of perfect delight. Tlie greatest 
charm of the place, however, was the " life " 
it contained. They wore allowed to stroke 
the necks of Silverhorn and the Maid of Long- 
ford, to feed the calf and the lambs with meal 
from their own hands, and to ride on the 
donkey's back. 

Before they had been many days at Daisy 
Farm tlisy went to the mill with Paddy, 
seated on the bag of barley in the donkoy-cart, 
and during the ride were entertained with mar- 
velous stories and wild Irish songs. When 

967 



i 



I 




268 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



John asked Marion which of all his « ciaturs" 
she liked best, the door, or the calf, or the 
lambs, or tlie cows, or the donkey, she replied, 
innocently, "Oh, I like the funny, kind man 
the best of them all, - dear Paddy Mannon." 
And from the hour of their arrival at the cot- 
tage, Paddy Mannon became the nurse, the 
palron and the hero of the children. He 
would not go to mill or to market without 
them, and insisted that the cows stood more 
quietly while he was milking " if the small 
bit girlies were aside thim with their soft 

voices." 

• He soon grew so proud of them that he 
overcame his fear of apostasy and of Father 
Clakey, and went to the Presbyterian church 
with the family, to hear what people said 
about the little new-comers after service. 

When P iggy began life again at the cottage, 
her Bible was kept open on a little table in 
her kitchen. She told her neighbors, who 
dropped in one by one to welcome her back, 
that she should read aloud from it every day 
for an hour before sunset ; and that if any 



a. 

I his " ciatura " 
10 calf, or tho 
:ey, she replied, 
mny, kind man 
addy Maiinon." 
■ival at tho cot- 
the nurse, the 

children. Ho 
market without 
0W8 stood more 

"if the small 
with their soft 

f them that ho 
r and of Father 
byteriau church 
lat people said 
er service. 
n at the cottage, 
a little table in 
neighbors, who 
ilcomo hor back, 
rom it every day 
and that if any 



THE NEW LIFE . T DAISY FARM. 



269 



among them wished to hear the Word of the 
Lord they might come witli their knitting at 
that time. If they had not yarn, she offered 
to supply them ; and also to set up stockings 
for such as were not knitters, and to teach 
tliem to shape and to narrow them off. 

As Miss Grey had predicted, the simple 
people looked on Peggy in her new attire and 
witli her new confidence, as a lady who had 
seen the world, and all questions were soon 
referred to her for settlement. It was marve- 
lous to see the errands which were made to 
tho cottage just before sunset by such as were 
too timid to accept her invitations. Ono camo 
to borrow a measure of meal or a few eggs, 
another to ask what would cure the toothache, 
and a third to inquire for tho health of the 
two little girls ; and once there, they remained 
to hear Peggy read. Thus, from beginning 
the readings with John, Paddy and the chil- 
dren, she scon had a dozen listeners. Some- 
times they would ask her questions, which 
gave her opportunity to explain tho passages 
she read — which were usually from tho life 



•Tt/^temmkaMKin 



^^■■flii 



SfO 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



and the teachings of Jesus. She had learned 
many sweet hymus, with tunes now to them, 
to which they listened with great pleasure, 
and not a fe« of them began to long for an 
interest in the love which had upheld their 
neighbor in her sorrows, and which now added 
such charms to her simple life. 

During these readings, John always sat with 
his face buried in his hands, as if in prayer. 
His riauncr was ever marl<ed with the deepest 
solemnity, like that of one who felt his own 
weakness and God's power ; who walked under 
His eye, and feared by one trifling word to 
grieve Him wlio had forgiven so much. He 
said little ; but the crops, and the " craturs," 
and all he had, were laid on the altar of the 
Lord, and he was ready, at any hour of the 
day or night, » to lend a helping hand in work 
or in sickness to any neighbor who would con- 
descend to accept his help." The proud 
Pharisee was humbled in the dust, and could 
barely hope that he was forgiven ; he could 
not rejoice in hope, and he never stood by 
Peggy on the mount. Like Thomas, he 



THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 



271 



3 had loarnod 
new to tliem, 
rcat pleasure, 
to long for an 
upheld their 
ich now added 

ilways sat with 
s if in prayer, 
ith the deepest 
felt his own 
walked under 
trifling word to 

so much. He 

tljo " craturs," 
the altar of the 
my hour of the 
ig hand in work 
who would con- 
," The proud 

dust, and could 
•given ; he could 

never stood by 
,ke Thomas, he 



doubted, but like him, also, he conld cry, 
ab times, " My Lord and my God." The 
solemnity of eternity was impressed on his 
countenance, and his old good-natured smile 
had given way to a grave and thoughtful ex- 
pression. His neighbors were amazed, and 
watched in vain for his old boasting. He was 
no longer " John Sheehan, the thriftiest far- 
mer and the moralest Christian in Killyrooke, 
giving all men their dues and feeding the 
nady," but confessed himself to be " the chief 
of sinners." 

When Peggy strove to encourage and 
strengthen his hope, she would sometimes 
ask, — 

" Why bhould the children of a King 
Go mourning all th«r days ? " 

"Ah, Peggy, jewel," he would reply, '■'■ what 
right have I to rejoice like other saved ones ? 
It is joy enough for me that I'm not in 
despair; that I've a hope o' heaven at last. 
How could I bo smilin' and merry, that has 
crucified the Lord afresh, and put Him to an 
open shame ? The wounds I gave to Him and 



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272 



OEMS OF TEE BOO. 



to yo, darlin', is iver aforo my eyes, as well as 
tlic marcy that has forgiven me. So I can 
iiiver turn from tliis siglit to look after what 
otlicrs call joy. My joy and my crown is to 
lie in the dust and cry ' Unclaiic, unclane,' and 
to tarn from my pollution to His holiness. 
With that afore mo, I'm afeared to open my 
lips lest I sin against God again. If I kapo 
near to Him and to yo I'm safe an<l paceful, 
and that's all I'll ask till I see Him as He 



is.' 



And yet John was just as diligent in busi- 
ness as when his thoughts were all centered 
in the farm. Ho at once set himself to enlarg- 
ing and repairing the cottage, a work requir- 
ing little skill or little money. Ho and 
Paddy laid the stone for the now room, and 
filled the crevices witli a clay mortar of their 
own mixing. When this was done, the joiner 
from Cloynmally came with hoards and tools 
to lay the floor, and to put in three new 
windows,— for even Paddy was to havo one 
in his loft, as Miss Grey had ordered ; and 
over this luxury ho was so jubilant that he 



"T t ' T'^AM ^ V ' '" 'f^ ' 




eyes, as well as 
me. So I can 
look after what 
my crown is to 
le, uiiclaiie,' and 
;o His holiness, 
red to open my 
;ain. If I kapo 
ifo an<l paceful, 
SCO Him as He 

diligent in busi- 
'oro all centered 
limself to enlarg- 
5, a work requir- 
onoy. Ho and 
) new room, and 
J mortar of their 

done, the joiner 
boards and tools 
nt in three new 
was to have one 
ad ordered ; and 

jubilant that he 



THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 



273 



forgave her for being " an inimy to the whole 
male sict." 

Wlion all was done, John and Peggy spent 
days in untangling " the dear vines about 
Mainuiy Honey's window," and training them 
round tlic corner so as " to hide up the now 
part, wliich had no home look," as Peggy said. 
Tlicn the carpet was laid, the cliairs, and 
tallies, and pictures which Miss Grey had sent 
wiTC put into the new i-oom. All Killyrooke 
cauio to admire, and to wonder " at the luck 
wlii'!h had come to the mistress out of her 
great sorrow." 

Into this little parlor tho Bible and hymn- 
liook were now removed, and here Peggy and 
tlic cliildrcn sat when the labors of the cottage 
were over, to knit, and sew, and read ; 'xnd it 
was into this room that the sunset visitors 
were liercaftov to bo ushered. • 

Tho lady at the Hall became deeply inter- 
e^tod in Peggy's effort to improve her careless 
neighbors. She came in her carriage to visit 
hor, and to hear the story of tho little girls 
and of all Miss Orey's kindness. She ez- 



274 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



pressed great pleasure in the success of the 
mmot rcadhig and the knitting school, and 
promised to send dovvn yarn for all the httlo 
girls who would learn to knit their own stock- 
in<rs. "Ilis reverence is a little stirred up, 
my good Peggy," she said, "about the read- 
ing. Believing, as he does, that the common 
people, -the ignorant, I mean, -arc injured 
by hearing what they cannot understand, he 
feels that he ought to forbid the cottagers com- 
ing to you so much, and yet he knows your 
kindness, and is pained to interfere with you. 
Could you not teach these people to knit, and 
to be virtuous and peaceable, without reading 
the Bible to them, and thus not wrong the 
poor man, whose heart is nearly broken with 
the wild creatures? If not, I fear the bishop 
will bid him break up the ' teachings.' " 

Peggy's fn-st impulse was to tell the Catholic 
lady that she had no master but Christ, and 
that she should pay no heed cither to priest or 
bishop. But she know- this would deprive her 
of all opportunity of doing the poor women 
good. So she wisely replied, "I could re- 



ill 



'm»'sm«m^''''f^^''^^'^^^^*^^' ' 



)0. 

success of tho 
ting school, and 
or all the littlo 
tlicir own stock- 
ittle sUrred up, 
'about the read- 
liat tho common 
,n, — arc injured 
t understand, he 
le cottagers cora- 
t ho knows your 
itorfere with you. 
iople to knit, and 
!, without reading 
iS not wrong tho 
early broken with 
I fear tiio bishop 
lachings.' " 
to tell the Catholic 
3r but Christ, and 

cither to priest or 
would deprive her 
t tho poor women 
led, "I could re- 



THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 



275 



pato varses, and give advice, and sing hymns 
t(j llicm, my lady, without opening the lids 
o' my book, if that's what troubles Father 
Cl;ikoy." 

" Do so, then, my good woman, and I will 
p'.ouiise you shall not bo interfered with," 
said tho lady. " If you need yarn or cloth 
for the work, send to mO ; and como to the 
Hall now and then with your report. I will 
stand between you and Father Clakey in the 
matter." 

Tho honor of this visit, and tho memory 
of tho fine carriage and bay horses with 
liveried men halting before the cottage, raised 
Peggy not a little iu the esteem of her neigh- 
bors. They felt it a great honor to know ono 
Avhom tho lady of tho Hall had deigned to 
visit. Paddy, although he saw the fine equip- 
ago frequently on tho road, was so awe-stricken 
l)y its standing before the cottage door, that 
ho ran into tho cow-house and hid himself in 
tiio loft till it was gone. 

Peggy sat down at her little table, and 
taking up her hynm-book, began to select 



.'i 



S76 



OEILS OF THE BOG. 



Buch portions as should comprise the whole 
gospel. 

She strove on that evening to impress the 
minds of her visitors with the sinfulness of 
their own hearts, and drew out their ideas on 
the subject. Then she sang the hymn be- 
ginning, -- 

" How sad our state by natui-o is. 

Our sin how deep its stain! 
And Satan binds our captive minds 

Fast in his slavish chain.' ' 

After explaining to them their own helpless- 
ness, while thus exposed to God's wrath for 
having broken His laws, she told them how 
vain were all their penances, as well as their 
prayers to the Virgin and saints, which only 
robbed God of His glory. Then in her simple 
way she held up Jesus as the friend and 
lover of the poor, till tears fell from the 
eyes of her listeners, and some of them 
asked, " Why doesn't Father Clakoy tell us 
all this?" 

When the hour was over, and the knit- 
ting-needles were passed through the ball to 



S35S: 



isG the whole 

) impress the 

sinfulness of 

their ideas on 

,ho hyinu be- 



tninds 

own helpless- 
od's wrath for 
old them how 
IS well as their 
its, whicli only 
11 in her simple 
lio friend and 

fell from the 
some of them 
Clakoy tell us 

and the knit- 
igh the ball to 



THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 277 

be put away, the guests rose and stood while 
Peggy and the little girls sang,— 

" Alns, and did ray Saviour bleed, 

And did my Sovereign die 7 
Would He devote that sacred head 

For such a worm as 1 7 " 

Although this effort of the loving creature 
was anything but agreeable to the priest, and 
ho scolded well out of doors about it, he never 
actually forbade the women to go to the cot- 
tage, but satisfied his conscience by charging 
them not to listen to licresy there. 

And thus, amid home cares, — which with 
her had become religious duties, — and efforts 
. for the salvation of others, the years slippc;- 
by far more peacefully and happily than before 
"the great sorrow." John was the soul of 
love and tenderness, and Paddy outdid him- 
self in loyalty and attention. 

The little maids, now strong, sensible child- 
•en, wont to a school in Cloynraally, which 
^vas kept by a good sister of Elder Peter, who, 
"nliko him, was of a most gentle spirit.' 
When the weather was fine they walked, 







278 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



carrying their dinner in a small wooden 
bucket. When it stormed, they were driven 
over by Paddy in the donkey-cart, being cuter- 
taiucd on the way with marvelous talcs of- 
his travels in the moon, and his sailing and 
fishing in the clouds, and with merry, harm- 
less old Irish ballads. So charming were 
these rides, with such company, that tlicy both 
longed for storms. 




CHAPTER XXIV. 



THE ENEMY AGAIN. 



WHEN Bessie and Marion were about 
eight and ten years old, there was to bo 
a fair and horse-race a few miles from the cot- 
tage. The night before the races, Peggy was 
roused from a quiet sleep by a peal of loud 
laughter, which rang out wildly on the mid- 
night air, causing her to spring from her pil- 
low as if an arrow had pierced her. She laid 
her hand on her heart to still its beating, 
but in vain. A company of merry-makers 
tramped by the cottage, singing snatches of 
wild songs, and chatting and shouting to each 
other. She was wondering why the noise 
should have startled her so painfully, and why 
she felt so wretched, when the same shrill 
laughter broke forth again, almost beneath her 
window. Then, fully awake, she ki.ew the un- 

Si79 



- » ■" 'ISS.tj^itS'lni *«RWv^ 



280 



GE3fS OF THE BOO. 




hallowed voice that had so often rung through 
the low rooms of the cottage. It was hera 
•who had broken its peace. 

The light from half a dozen lanterns flashed 
for a moment across the wall, and then the 
tramping of feet and the humming of voices 
gradually died away in the distance. Anguish 
unknown since the day she first returned to 
her homf to find an intruder there, rushed like 
an overwhelming billow across her heart, and 
seemed to swallow her up. She sank help- 
lessly into a chair, and felt for a moment as if 
all were again lost to her. The tempter ap- 
peared for a season, and whispered that God 
had forgotten to bo gracious, and that her 
enemy would yet triumph over her. 

But in a moment she knew whence these 
suggestions came, and she whispered, " No, 
Satan, ye cannot beguiltj me ! 

•• • Tho soul that on Jesus has leaned for repose, 
^0 will not, He will not desert to His foes; 
■i ^at soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake, 
He'll never, no, never, no, never forsake.' " 

And lifting her hands and her eyes, she 




liL 



rung through 
It was hera 

litems flashed 
and thfii the 
ming of voices 
nee. Anguish 
3t rcturnod to 
re, rushed like 
her heart, and 
she sank hclp- 
1 moment as if 
'he tempter ap- 
pered that God 
and that her 
her. 

T whence those 
liispered, " No, 



for repose, 
is foes; 

Jeavor to shake, 
rsake.' " 

her eyes, she 



THE ENEMY AGAIN. 281 

said, with a smile, " ' Thou wilt keep them in 
perfect peace whoso minds are stayed on 
Thee ; ' and if ever poor woman was helped to 
stay herself on God, Peggy Sheehau has 
been." 

Aiid again " the great peace " came over her 
soul, and she was lifted above all her fears. 
She returned to her pillow, and like a child 
under the mother's watchful eye, fell asleep, 
and only woke iu time to see the sun rise over 
tlic bog. The sudden terror of the night had 
left no impression on her mind, save that of 
calmness and peace, and she went about her 
lowly duties in the kitchen And dairy, singing 
with a thankful spirit. 

The races brought a great many strangers to 
the neighborhood. Some of these were very 
rough characters, and Peggy resolved to keep 
the little girls at home from school for a few 
days, till the road should be clear of them. 
Tliey employed the first holiday in stringing 
thorn-berries on long threads to decorate tho 
horns of the cows, and tho necks of the deer 
and lambs. When Bessie wearied of this sho 



issasssss*-'^ 



r 



282 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 




went into tho cottage to her knitting, leaving 
Marion outside tho hedge alone. When 
supper was ready, tljo little one came in with 
a gilt chain suspended from her neck, attached 
to which was a small locket, containing, under 
a glass, a bunch of miniature flowers, — a 
pretty little trifle, such as was to be bought at 
the booths for a sliilling. 

" 0, look, mammy ! " she said, " see my 
present, and I've got sugar plums, too." 

" Poor Paddy wastes his money to plazo ye, 
little dear," said Peggy, looking with interest 
at the bauble. 

" 0, no, it was not Paddy gave it me," cried 
tho child. "It was a pretty lady that says 
you're not my mother. But you're a dear 
mammy, and I love you more than she, if 
your cheeks arn't red. I love pale cheeks and 
gray hair best." And tho innocent child 
climbed to Peggy's knee, and covered her 
with kisses as she sat at the table. 

" Her mother can never surely have found 
us out, poor thing ! Pd never a thought she 
war living," exclaimed Peggy. 



•i — 



oa. 

knitting, leaving 
I alono. When 
one came in with 
er neck, attached 
jontaining, under 
uro flowers, — a 
,s to bo bought at 

! said, " see my 
nms, too." 
loney to plazo ye, 
ing with interest 

;avo it me," cried 
y lady that says 
it you're a dear 
lore than she, if 
3 pale cheeks and 
) innocent child 
and covered her 
able. 

surely have found 
ver a thought she 



THE ENEMY AGAIN. 



283 



"Never," replied John. "It's no mother 
of hers, but mayhap some evil-disposed body 
that would be staling her for her beauty or her 
clotlios. How looked she, darliu' ? War she 
a beggar-woman ? " 

" Oh, no, she was a bit of a lady, or nigh to a 
lady. She had red cheeks, and roses in her 
liat, and I kissed her because she gave me this 
and the sugar plums. She said I must hate 
Paddy Mannon, poor Paddy." 

"No, darling," replied Peggy, "ye must 
love him. Hell kind and good ; and if he war 
not, ye must niver hate him. God bids us love 
avcn our iniraies, ye know. If iver ye see this 
woman more, Marion, do 70 run into the cot- 
tage at once, lest she run off with ye, and 
break my heart." 

That horrid peal of laughter Vas recalled to 
Peggy's mind, and she had little doubt but her 
old tormentor was in the neighborhood, and 
had spoken thus to Marion simply to annoy 
her. She was sure Nan did not want the 
child, and if she had believed otherwise her 
faith was too strong that day to bo shaken. 



iT="' 



284 



GEMS OP THE BOG. 



Had a host encamped against the cottage, she 
would have dwelt in peace. 

After supper the children led Peggy out to 
see how thoy had dressed the cows, deer and 
laml)s with haw-berries. As thoy came near 
the cow-house they heard sobs, and looking in, 
saw Paddy Mannon standing in a corner, with 
his face pressed closo to the wall, weeping bit- 
terly. 

" What can ail ye, boy ? " asked Peggy in 
surprise ; for Paddy was one of thoso fortunate 
mortab who scorn exempt from'tho sorrows of 
life^_who, having nothing, can lose nothing. 

He turned round and replied, " Send tho 
small things into tho cottage, and thin if yo'll 
promise not to turn white and scare me, I'll 
tell ye what a evil has come to us." 

When they were alone he continued, " I had 
a visit from Nan, and she bid mo get tho tin 
pounds I told yo on, or she'd walk into tho 
cottage. I war just quite bravo at first, and I 
told her it war mysilf hired her friend to woo 
her ofif, and I threatened her with tho magis* 
trate, and the like. And didn't she up and 



VIE Boa. 

ainat the cottage, she 

rcn led Peggy out to 
d the cows, door and 
As they came near 
sobs, and lookuig in, 
Ihig in a corner, with 
;ho wall, weeping bit- 

)y ? " asked Peggy in 
one of those fortunate 
it from* the sorrows of 
ng, can lose nothing, 
d replied, " Send the 
ttage, and thin if yo'U 
lite and scare me, I'll 
ime to us." 

I ho continued, " I had 
lie bid me get the tin 
r she'd walk into the 
te bravo at first, and I 
ired her friend to woo 
d her with the magis- 
lud didn't she up and 



THE ENEMY AGAIN. 



285 



bate the cars near ofif my face because I'd not 
git her the tin pounds to spend at the fair ? 
Ycrsclf knows, misthrcss dear, tlicre's not a 
live man as has more respect for woman nor 
niysilf; that is whin she kapes in her own 
sphare ; but when she laves spinnin' and 
mllkin', and goes aboot chastisin' noble men 
as was made to be the head and ruler o' her, 
then I'm more afearcd o' her, than o' .the vory 
ghosts thimselvcs ! I'll not go out o' doors for 
a year, lest the boys taunts mo with this blow I 
got from a woman. 'Dade, my head tings now 
like the church bolls Avith the weight o' her 
hand ; " and Paddy wept afresh at the thought 
of his humiliation. 

" Quit yer cryin', poor lad, and never tell a 
mortal that yo saw her at all," said Peggy. 
" I'm not afearcd o' the poor thing ; I could 
minister to her war she sick, or an hungered, 
or athirst, or aven in prison." 

" Ah, so could I," cried Paddy, smiling 
through his tears, " if I could but once see 
her in prison, — that's the place for her ! " 

" God," said Peggy, " is stronger nor all tho 



f 



988 




GEMS OF THE BOG. 



powers o' evil, and we're safe under His wing. 
Now mind, poor faitliful crelur, ye'rc not to 
broatlie yon poor tiling s name to any mortal, 
especial not to yar dear mastlicr, to bring 
back the sorrows o' tlic past. Slie'll be off 
with her friends when the fair and the races 
is over, and we'll still 'bide hero together in 
the pace o' God." 



vsm 



BOG. 

fe under His wing, 
relur, ye'rc not to 
me to any mortal, 
masthcr, to bring 
ast. Slic'll bo otr 
fair and the races 
le hero together in 



CHAPTER XXV. 



A CONSECBATED LIFE. 



THE young man, whoso visits had been so 
greatly blessed to John Shoehan, had been 
abroad about three or four years for study and 
travel. He had now returned, and taken a place 
in tno counting-room of his father's extensive 
" works," believing that he was called to honor 
God in the busy mart of trade. Tliis decision 
caused great disappointment to his father, 
who had hoped to see his only and gifted son 
shine in public life, either in a profession or as 
astafcsman. He now resolved that he should 
at least become a star in the fashionable 
world, and saw no reason, except the fanaticism 
whicli had taken possession of him in college, 
why he should not marry a title. Ho knew 
that his money would be as highly prized 

S87 



■■■^•SF- 



288 OEMS OF THE BOO. 

among the pooruobiUtyas a name would bo 

be by bim, a ricb com noucr. 

Witb tbi. fiuc fancy in bis brain, tbo man 
of .old did not cboosc to sec bis bcir seated on 
a bigb stool, scratching in a ledger. So bo 
bougM bim ftnc borsc, a startling brougbam, 
and otbervebicles, and gave bim means to keep 

up tbe style requisite to carry out Ins pku 

'"bTius son's heart was on other things, and 
the young daughters of dukes and carls passed 

by bim, as little regarded as the down of tbo 

thistle. Ho envied the coronet of an ea.^ no 

,^oro than tbo cockade of a coachman, and al 
tboeffortsofhisfatbcrand sisters to "rouse 

his ambition" were in vain. 

One morning as he sat in tbo library alone, 

his father entered, with a cloud on his brow. 
« Come, my boy," he said, in a tone wlucl 

betokened pain rather tbau anger, "WO mus 
talk over this matter of your future a Uttlo. 1 
need not tell you that I am sorely disappomted 
iu the sou of my pride. I roared you for a 



Boa. 

i a namo would bo 

ir. 

his brain, tbo man 
;c bis bcir seated on 
in a ledger. So bo 

startling brougbam, 
ire biin means to keep 

carry out bis plan 

on otbcr tbings, and 
likes and carls passed 

as tbo down of tbo 
•oronct of an earl no 

a coacbman, and all 
aid sisters to " rouse 

in. 
in tbo library alono, 

I cloud on bis brow, 
said, in a tone wliicb 
ban anger, " wo must 
your future a littb. I 
am sorely disappointed 
I roared you for a 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 



289 



gentloinan, but I'm told you have turned out 
ahnost a Mulliodist, forsaking the society whicb 
you are filled to adorn, and choosing your as- 
sociales among tlic employes of tbo bouse, — 
even llio diaymen, — and making yourself 
' hale fellow well met ' with old Sliannon, and 
Cragin, the cooper. Whence did you inberit 
such tastes, my boy ? " 

A deep color rose to tbo cbeek of tbe young 
man, as he replied, '* I bope, my dear fatber, I 
shall never do any tbing to disgrace you, or to 
sliow myself ungrateful for all yonr indulgence. 
I>ut tliorc is One wbo lias a .till higher claim 
on mo tban you have ; and to Ilim I mado 
vows, as solemn as eternity, in an hour of deep 
anguish. I was on the brink of ruin, and bad 
ahnost ijrought disgrace on you, when God laid 
I His hand on me, stayed mo in my mad career, 
and hrougbt me to my rigbt mind. Those vows 
I must fulfill, botli from honesty and from a 
llove which draws mo in tbo way of Uis com- 
|mandmcnts. I implore you not to tempt mo 
Voni Ciwist by suggesting tbat I am cold and 
jugrateful to you. I enjoy tbo comforts of 

l» 



«mxsK^:nfP!' 






r 



290 



GEifS OF TUB BOO. 




wealth as much aa any young man can do, but 
were the choice force.l upon me, I would rather 
be a beggar followu.g Clirist, than a priuco 
with my back turned upon Ilim." 

" Your sisters can never induce you to ac- 
company them to rout or play ; but you have 
plenty of time to bestosv on people wh.o have 
uo claim on you," said the father, severely. 

« Every body has a claim on mo, father," 
replied the young man," and when those I lovo 
ot, home will not listen to me, I must seek out 
those who will. Our family friends would sconi 
mo and perhaps refuse my visits were I to re- 
mind them that they were mortal and needed 
an Immortal Friend. But our draymen and 
coopers listen respectfully when I -peak to 
them of their souls, and they read what I give 
them, and go whore I request them, to hear the 
' Word of God preached." 

« You never caught this spirit of fanatici^n 
from my friend Murray ; for although ho was 
a church-menfber when wo were young to- 
gether, ho always remembered that ho wai^ a 
gentleman," said the old irau. 



mmmmm 



oa. 

man can do, but 
,c, I would rather 
;, tViaii a prince 
in." 

idiicc you to ac- 
y ; but you bavo 
people wl'.o have 
thcr, severely. 
n on mo, father," 
when those I love 
s, I must seek out 
•lends would sconi 
isits were I to rc- 
lortal and needed 
our draymen and 
when I r;poak to 
3y read what I give 
X thcra, to hear the 

spirit of fanaticism 
ir although ho was 
JO were young to- 
i-od that ho wac> a 
an. 



A CONSEC'ItATED LIFE. 



291 



" 1 hope I shall remember that too, father," 
replied tiic son. 

" You did not see Murray waylaying work- 
men, and rniining to night services when you 
were with lum, I'm very sure ? " asked the 
father. 

" lie did what he could in that way, but the 
lower classes about him are all Papists, and 
tlif^y shun him as if he were a foe." 

The father remained silent a moment, and 
then, as if a bright though*^^ had just struck 
him, ho said, " Well, if this course appears in 
the light of a duty to you, why not take orders ? 
A clergyman stands in the foremost rank of 
society, even though ho be as poor as tho mouse 
in his church, and with your wealth you would 
doubtless get speedy preferment. Your sisters 
accuse you of " preaching " now ; why not 
make that your profession and take some prom- 
inent living?" 

" Father, should I do this, it would not bo in 
the church of your choice, nor yet among peo- 
ple who have rich livings to bestow. But aside 
from this, I feel that my duty calls me to a 






f 



-i- 



r 



292 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



business life. I have never had a call to tlio 

ministry." 

" A call to the ministry ! " rc-cchocd the oM 
man, who had probal:ly never heard the expres- 
sion before, " what have you ' had a call to,' 
pray tell me ? " 

" To make money, and with it, as well as 
with all my powers, to glorify God Avhilo I 
live," replied the young man, solemnly. " Do 
not tempt me to play traitor to the King I have 
chosen to rule over mo." 

" I will do nothing to vex you, my son," re- 
plied the old man, " even if my heart and my 
hopes are all crushed. You are a man, and 
must -,hoosc your own road in life. God 
bless you, my boy, whatever way you go." 
And taking out a large gold watch with much 
jingling of chain and seals, ho wiped tears 
from his eyes before he could see the hour on 
the fair dial plate. Then he took his hat and 
went out to make his usual morning round 
among the works; not to sec what was doing, 
as there were men paid for that purpose, but to 
inspire the workmen with an awe of his dig- 



,...«;*---ivr.-. -■..««»'-iO!*W-r,f«ttsflM 




iOO. 

lad a cnll to tho 

re-ccliocd the old 

heard the cxprcs- 

a ' had a call to,' 

ith it, as well as 
rify God Avhilo I 
1, solemnly. " Do 
to the King I have 

you, my son," rc- 
my heart and my 
u arc a man, and 
ad in life. God 
'cr way you go." 
[ watch with much 
Is, he wiped tears 
d see tho hour on 
( took his hat and 
al morning round 
ce what was doing, 
;hat purpose, but to 
m awe of his dig- 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 



203 



nity ; and also to encourage each of them by 
his bland smile and his cheerful " Good-moru- 
uig, my man ! " 

When the letters by the morning's mail 
wore laid by a clerk on the desk before tho 
young man, his eye brightened at sight ( one 
in Mr. Murray's well-known hand. The very 
address gave comfort to his tried spirit by an 
assurance that one still lived who could enter 
into and sympathize in his trials. He tore it 
open as if he knew it held tho balm lie needed 
al that moment, and read therein good news : 

" My Very Dear Young Friend, — When I 
siiw your name among the passengers in tho 
'Iris' I first thanked God for your safety, 
and then took my pen to welcome you home, 
and to tell you the ' good news from a far 
country,' which I fear missed you in your 
wanderings. You remember I told you I 
should call Killyrooke your parish, and that 
1 would be your assistant there. I blush when 
I remember that I strove to discourage you 
in your efforts for poor, fallen Sheehan. God 
blessed your work. He was saved, and tho 



1 



' ■'■ ! »ii?Ja^i>MJ.- ' .»«»'R» «'-ya re a a« v,t»ia ti ! »'* ' « ' 4Jitiv vir' ' 



294 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



desolate arc brought togcthcv into a happy 
and godly family. 

" Your success in gaining tlic cars of tlicso 
poor people has convinced mc of the utility 
of lay preaching. You, with your blue coat 
and white hat, were welcomed where I would 
have been stoned. You were listened to as 
a young gcnlleman, while God's more public 
servant was looked on as a wily heretic secli- 
ing to delude their souls. You did more for 
poor blind Killyrooke the two weeks you were 
with us than I have been able to do in all the 
years I have labored at Cloynmally. I have 
already reaped the first fruits of your labors 
there. I have received into my church, and 
administered the Sacrament of the Lord's 
Supper to, old Monica Burke, long a roadside 
beggar of little fame for honesty ; to the former 
bar-maid of the poor little inn; and to the wife 
of Sullivan the poacher, — tho woman whose 
heart and arms ached from emptiness after the 
dead baby. There was great joy ia the church 
over theso poor souls. 



<' Yv^hen John Shoehan, ' your joy aud your 




Boa. 

icv into a happy 

tlic cars of tlicso 
mc of the utility 
th your bluo coat 
cd where I would 
ere listened to as 
jod's more public 
wily heretic scck- 
You did more for 
vo weeks you were 
le to do iu all the 
oyninally. I have 
lits of your labors 
;o my church, and 
int of the Lord's 
ke, long a roadside 
esty ; to the former 
nil ; and to the wife 
- tho woman whose 
emptiness after the 
it joy ia the church 

' your joy aud your 



A CONSECR.iTKD LIFE. 



295 



crown,' brought back his wife to the cottage, 
it was as if he had introduced an angol into 
tlic poor hamlet. She had gained much ir- 
formation, and had also overcome, to a sur- 
prising degree, her natural shyncsa by her 
intci-course with Miss Grey and her poor Chris- 
tian pensioners. She at once set out to read 
tlic Gospel to her neighbors. But thoj^ wero 
soon forbidden to hear the Bible read. She 
then, with strange wisdom, selected such 
hymns and psalms as form a body of divinity 
ill themselves ; and by coaxing, and sometimes 
hiring, she fills her little room every evening 
with poor lost sinners, and to them she sings 
the Gospel. They learn the tunes and Jio 
words, and carry ihcra home and sing them at 
their toil ; and thus your work is going on 

here. 

" The ungodly sec little cause for our rejoic- 
ing over these few poor wanderers gathered 
into the fold, thinking them small gain to any 
church. But you and I, who know the esti- 
mate Jesus puts on one immortal soul, know 
there is joy in heaven over them. Tho poor 






■ <» ^ jM»al^JfU ■^l !. ^ g^^.^^<■^ti, ^! ■^s,: ' -^ ' ,, T 'l .^. ^^ ;|,' ■J lMi!^V 5 ..f,. 



■s^rsfw* 




206 



GEifS OF THE BOG. 



heart-broken lady at the Hall is in sore need 
of the synipatliy of Jesus, and is, I hear, fully 
convinced of the vanity of her penances and 
of the mass. But alas ! she could never Htoop 
80 low as to hear the Gosncl sung in a 
thatched cottage, and she dare not hear it 
preached in a Protestant church. 'Position' 
keeps licr in darkness, while these poor wo- 
men walk in the light. That little hamlet 
will be depopulated ere long. Tlie gentleman 
at the Hall, sorely embarrassed by high living, 
has let the cottages of the tenantry, as well as 
his own grounds, run to ruin; so the poor 
people are emigrating to America as fast as 
they can get money for tlio passage. The seed 
which Peggy is casting forth in lovo and faith 
will thus be scattered, and bring in a harvest 
in the New World. 

'" I have often been perplexed to know how 
to regulate the matter of amusements for 
young Christians, so that it might not clash 
with the injunction, ' Whatsoever ye do, do 
all to the glory of God.' Your course has 
settled the question. It is ' for the glory of 



f^:S«^.«Pt««MMEi^^^r»&1WJBMaJIHASW^il .WW*J««?BS!K«,*ePMKWtSB59»e?r? ■ 




too. 

is ill soro need 
1 is, I hoar, fully 
cr penances and 
ould never Htoop 
)spcl sung ill a 
larc not lieur it 
ircb. 'Position' 
c these poor \vo- 
lat little hamlet 
Tiie gciitleinaii 
d by high living, 
laiitry, as well as 
in; so the poor 
nerica as fast as 
ssagc. The seed 
u lovo and faith 
•ing in a harvest 

;ed to know how 
aniusemcnts for 
might not clash 
oever ye do, do 
four course has 
for the glory of 




A CONSECnATED LIFE. 



297 




God ' that you keep the delicate frame Ho has 
given you in health and vigor hy manly exer- 
cise. As your calling has not led you to find 
this in labor, you have sought it in athletic 
games. Now that all your powers are conse- 
crated to God, your skill at those games is 
turned to account for His glory. Through 
quoits and ball you gained the cars and tho 
hearts of those poor fellows at tho lough. 
Hereafter, when any one asks me, ' How far 
may a Christian enter into worldly pleasures ? ' 
I will say, ' Just as far as he is sure he is thus 
promoting the glory of God. When con- 
science tolls him that ho can honor Christ by 
going to the play or the dance, let him go 
there. Otherwise he will by going get harm 
to his own soul and stumble the souls of 
others ? ' Your skill at games gave you an 
influence over those people, and enabled you 
to talk to them of heavenly things. That in- 
fluence has extended to me, so that I can now 
drop a word when I meet them, without fear of 
abuse. I believe those ' boys ' with whom you 
met would read any book you should send 



Tsasm;ffiecM!>3S^tje2-s;^K»n*rf? 




298 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



them — if fortunate enough to read at all. 
Come back at your first leisure, and visit your 
huml)lc little parish before it molts away, and 
I will show you a wonderful change in the 
home of poor humble Sliechan. That foolish 
fellow, Paddy, says he is a Protestant now, 
and ho attends service regularly with his 
master. Tlie account he himself gives of the 
cluinge is, that when he was homesick after 
his mistress, he vowed that if ever she camo 
back to iiim lie would toss up a penny to 
decide the matter of his religion. He did 
80 just before she came. Tlio result turned 
him from the faith of his fathers! Do you 
not think that many wiser men than poor 
Paddy stake their religious principles on 
ground as small as that ? 

If, in your labors in the city, you meet with 
those who dare not .cad or hear the Bible, 
sing the Gospel to them. Would it not be 
well for us to avail ourselves of poor Peggy's 
invention, and through music to draw the poor 
end the needy where they can hoar tho swoet 
Bound of tho Gospel ? " 



Boa. 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 



299 



I to read at all. 
re, and visit your 
t inclts away, and 
ful change in tho 
lan. That foolish 
J Protestant now, 
cgularly with his 
imself gives of tho 
as homesick after 

if ever she camo 
is up a penny to 

religion. He did 
Tho result turned 

fathers! Do you 
ir men than poor 
)U8 principles on 

ity, you meet with 
or hear tho Bible, 
WouM it not be 
38 of poor Peggy's 
ic to draw the poor 
an hoar tho sweet 



Ten days after this letter was received by 
the joung man, the family at the cottage were 
surprised by tho arrival of a box full of books 
and colored cards from Mr. Murray's friend. 
Tliesc were to be scattered by Peggy among 
— so he wrote — " my friends in Killyrooko." 
Many of the young men, proud of the honor, 
vished to know what the books contained, 
but not being able to read, were forced to go 
to IVggy and John, who held themselves 
ready lor the work. Both Bessie and Marion 
were brought into the service, and there was 
more reading in Killyrooko in tho next ten 
days than there had ever been before since 
the first poor cottage was built there. 



■.Jrt*^«iBV«Miil«*(«p»j<«i*Pte*; 




S-- 



pr~ 




CHAPTER XXVI. 

VISITS PROM FRIEND AND FOE. 

ONE pleasant aftornoou iii the early autiunn, 
as Peggy sat at her wheel by the open 
door of her cottage, she was surprised by tho 
arrival of guests in a smart juunting-car. 
They were no other than Barney and his wife, 
who fjor the first time in their married life had 
set out on an excursion of pleasure. There 
were no cold rules of etiquette to bind down 
the warm-hearted hostess ; and, forgetting that 
she had never seen tho wife of tho " dear 
wagoner," she rushed out to tho gate to wel- 
come them. 

" Ah, good woman," cried tho wagoner, " ye 
BOO it's true that ' birds of a feather flock to- 
gether.' For tho last while Fvc jist been long- 
ing to have a word with ye, and to thank ye 
for tho throublo yo took about my soul, and to 

300 



! 



,> 




VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 



301 



fD FOE, 

! early autiunn, 
3I by the open 
urprisei by the 
t jaunting-car, 
?y and his wife, 
narricJ life had 
loasure. There 
3 to bind down 
, forgetting that 
of the " dear 
tlie gate to wel- 

le wagoner, " ye 
featlior flock to- 
jist boon long- 
and to thank ye 
my soul, and to 

300 



tell yo that I'm jist one o' ycrsilvos now ! 
And liore's my poor Mully, a thankful crotur 
iis lives, and as lovin' a one too. She's never 
asked high things o' tiie Lord in this world, 
but what she has asked He's bestowed on hor 
and on mo ; and we're come to bid ye re- 
joice witli us that we, poor lost sheep, is 
brought into tlic dear fold." 

Peggy folded the wagoner's wife in her 
arras and imprinted a motherly kisa on her 
pale chock, but, without speaking to her, con- 
tinued her conversation with Barney as ho 
hitched his horse to the donkey-post. " And 
how do ye feel towards the Papists now ? " she 
asked, as if trying the genuineness of his re- 
pentance. 

" I loves ivory one 0' them, from the Pope 
hisself down to the mancst o' my inimies at 
homo ! Fd travel from hero to Limerick on 
my knees, if by so doin' I could open one 
pair o' blind eyes to see tho marcy I've seen 
in tho sinners' Friend," lie replied. 

As thoy entered tlie cottage, Paddy, who 
bad been drawn from tho garden by their joy- 




809 



OEMfi OF THE liOG. 



fill voices, joined thoin, ami taking off his hat 
mado a low bow, ami .-^aid, " I'm at yor sar- 
vico, and ycr harso's sai-vicc, too, good wa<,'- 
oncr. But afore yo cuter, will ye let ino have 
a word o' ye ? " 

Tho wagoner stepped haclc and inelincd hia 
head towards Paddy in the attitude of a lis- 
tener. But Paddy was a man of deeds as well 
as of words ; and he suri)rised the strar.gcr by 
stooping down and catching up one of his feet 
in his hand. Then falling on his knees, ho 
put his head down so low that he could exam- 
ine the sole of his brogue. " 1 only wanted to 
see,"" ho said, with a confidential wink of his 
little gray eye, " if yo had hobnails in yer 
shoes ; because if ye had, Pd bo to pound them 
down afore I let ye into our cottage. We've 
grown very fine since first ye saw us, and we 
has a carpet on our floe-, and carpets is not 
for men as wears hobnails in their soles, yo 
know. Te're all rijlit ; so walk in, and a 
wilcome to yo ! Yis, yis ; it's fine indeed that 
wo are now— atin' with our tables covered 
with white cloth, 'stead o' bare. There's not 



r'!??^>■•!r^1rW^"X -.«! ■»■«.: «tr---aa««>«««!9«iw»- 





»d inclined \m 
titudc of a lis- 
f docds as woll 
tlio stranger by 
one of Ilia feet 

his knees, ho 
!ic could exam- 
only wanted to 
;ial wink of his 
lobnails in yer 

to poimd tliom 
ottago. Wo'vo 
saw us, and wo 

carpets is not 

their soles, ye 
mlk in, and a 
Pino indeed that 

tables covered 
B. Thoro's not 



II f » l ! .»l |I H i nL < !.J I " 



? 



VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 



303 



a one like us but only the minister and the 
priest in all tliese parts. But for all tliis, wo 
kapos quite liumble, and treats daeent poor 
people with duo civility; so don't be afoarcd, 
but wipe yer feet well and tliin just step on 
the carpet as if it were no better nor a clay 
floor. Isn't it a fine thing to be kept tliis 
humble when we're grown such grand folk ? " 

And for two days these humble souls, witli a 
few Christian friends who joined them from 
the little band in Cloynmally, " did cat their 
meat with gladness and singleness of heart, 
praising God, and having favor with all the 
people." 

The girls wore now so large and so capable, 
that they relieved Peggy of nearly all the care 
and work, both in the cottage and in the poul- 
try-yard. What they could not accoraplisli 
Paddy did, so ho felt groat pride in boasting 
that " his darlin' misthress didn't have to lift 
her finger oidy to plaze herself." But with 
all this freedom from toil, Peggy was not tho 
woman to sit down in idleness. Tho love in 
her heart always supplied work for her hands. 



i 



4. 




304 



OEyfS OF THE 300. 



Late one suinincr aftcfuooii, Bessie and 
Marion were sent off to search for tlie duclcs, 
wliicli liud, of late, fallen into roving iiabits, 
often leaving " the fine aceominodations " 
Paddy had provided for them, and seeking 
company at a large pond half a mile from 
home. 

As the girls tnrnod into a qniet la:io loading 
to this duck-pond, they saw two women sitting 
on the grass enjoying their supper ; and yet 
they were too well dressed for beggars. They 
talked and laughed very loudly, and as the 
girls approached, one called out, " Arn't ye 
Shcchan's girls ? " 

Be°-sie modestly replied, and then expressed 
her opinion to Marion of the way in which the 
stranger spoke of their father. " Siie might 
at least have called him ' John Slieehan,' she 
said." 

" Come back hero and tell us about yon 
Miss Grey. Do she sind ye money by the 
liape, or do the old fellow fade and clothe yo 
hissclf? " cried one of the women. 

The childrou were startled by this rudeness, 



'^■'WmXal&MMX' ' 



oa. 

)oii, Besslo and 
cli for tlie ducks, 
to roving liabits, 
scominodations " 
m, and seeking 
alf a mile from 

;iict laiio Iciding 
fo women sitting 
supper ; and yot 
• beggars, Tlicy 
idly, and as tho 
out, " Arn't ye 

I then expressed 
way in which tho 
r. " Slie might 
in Sliechan,' she 

U us about yon 

3 money by tho 

idc and clothe yo 

nen. 

by this rudeness, 



VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 305 

and replied, " We're in haste, as we're bid to 
be back to our supper." 

"Ocli ye arc! Well, thin, pass on, fine 
liulies," cried the woman. "I suppose that 
great lady, Peggy Sheehan, forbid ye to snake 
to j)oor folk." 

"Ecssic dear," said Marion, "I've talked 
twice with yon woman on tho road. One day, 
you mind, I told ye she said she know my own 
niotlicr, and that Miss Gre;^ bid her come to 

see ns." 

" She was jesting with you, dear," replied 
Bessie, "but may be she's the body that 

mammy's so ill pleased to hear mentioned 

for what reason I don't know. Perhaps she's 
the one that gave you the locket long ago, that 
mammy l)id ye never speak to, but run from. 
A rough body surely she is, and very unlike 
om- mammy." 

And chatting together, they reached the 
pond, and saw their ducks, with a largo party 
of friends, on the other side. It was a lonj^ 
way round, but they were forced to go on or 
return without them. The shadows were fal- 

20 



S06 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



ling, and tlioy begun to feel alittlo timid, wlien, 
to their great joy, tliey saw Timmy, the son of 
Elder Peter, coming towards tlicm. lie liad 
been a most tender and affectionate playmate 
of Bessie for years. It seems that Timmy, 
now tnrncd of seventeen, did not partake of 
his father's stony nature, but gave the elder 
great annoyance by spending his pocket money 
and his time for the girls. The elder had 
long a<ro declared that he'd have " no stuff" 
about him, and that he would chastise Timmy 
next time lie saw him befooling himself. " How 
can I tell," ho said, " but if the lad's left to 
himself, he may turn out a gallant, or a lover, 
or such-like wake crelur' ? He must sure have 
got this wakeness from some far-back body 
among his ancestors; for his father never 
looked at a maiden till he had a cottage to bo 
kept clanc and no one in it to cook him a di..- 
nor. And here's him makin' a fool o' himself 
from the cradle up ! Amaziu' wakeness for the 
eon o' an elder ! " 

After a few rebukes and many threats, Elder 
Peter at length devised a plan to mortify the 



■ ?i<i«*.>5il*s5W«g3};- - 



00. 



VISITS FROM FlilEND AyD FOE. 



307 



ittlo timid, wlicn, 
umy, the son of 

them. lie had 
tioiiate j)laymato 
US that Timmy, 
, not partake of 
t gave the elJcr 
liis pocket money 
The elder had 
have " no stuff" 

chastise Timmy 
12 himself. " How 
■ tlie lad's left to 
llant, or a lover, 
Ig must sure have 
ae far-back body 
his father never 
ad a cottage to bo 
;o cook him a di..- 
i' a fool o' himself 
i' wakeness for the 

lany threats, lildcr 
lau to mortify the 



lud ill a manner tliat should tcacli him a lesson. 
So lie took him out of tlie " classical school 
of Maurice Dolaii," and put him into tlic girls' 
scliool taught by his own sister, willi a cliaigo 
to her " to set liim in between two little maids 
wlienever he needed punishment." 

Strange to say, Elder Peter's medicine was 
too mild for the disease. Timmy was now in 
liis clement, wedged in between his admired 
Bessie Sheehan and anotlier pleasant child not 
Ro old. If his fatlier liad found it hard to 
keep liis finger on Timmy out of school hours 
before, he found it still harder now. IIo 
walked from Cloyiimally almost to Killyrooko, 
cither " after flowers, or four-leafed shamrocks, 
or something else," every night, till the elder 
took him out of the girls' school and sc'it 
liiin back to Maurice Dolan, with orders to 
have the rod laid on if necessary. But Maurice 
was young himself, and he saw no great crime 
in plucking flowers and hunting four-leaved 
sliamrocks with schoolmates or friends. So 
Timmy escaped [lunishment altogether. 

Hard as Elder Peter's nature was, he had a 



\. ji .tF2«a:t-'»tf«wp*«i» 



^«.,^.^t ^ 




808 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



very tender spot in his licart for Timmy — Ills 
one, only child. Knowing how hard his own 
trado was, he had resolved tliat Tiinmy should 
have an easier one — perhaps be a tailor. 
Against this decision Tinimy rebelled most 
vigorously, declaring that he would either bo a 
stone-cutter or a farmer in America, and ho 
dutifully suggested that if his plans were inter- 
fered with he would run off and go to sea. And 
that boy's threat from time immemorial, had 
as groat an effect in restraiiiing Elder Peter 
from carrying out his plans as if it had never 
been uttered before. 

Marion, who preferred the ducks' company 
to Timmy's, walked on ahead scolding them 
soundly for the evil ways into which they had 
fallen. Thus the two lingerers had a rare op- 
portunity to make complaints and to reveal 
plans, without a third person to listen. 

Bessie remembered her sad early life among 
tlie baby boai'ders, where she was forbidden to 
laugh or to play, and perhaps it was this wliich 
had given a tinge of sadness to her disposi- 
tion. It certainly was not that she felt depres- 




too. 

for Timmy — his 
\v hard liis own 
at Tiiniuy should 
ips be a tailor. 
ly rebelled most 
vould either bo a 
America, and ho 
plans were inter- 
id go to sea. And 
immemorial, had 
ning Elder Peter 
5 if it had never 

ducks' company 
id scolding them 
I which they had 
rs had a rare op- 
ts and to reveal 
to listen. 
1 early life among 

was forbidden to 
it was this wliich 
is to her disjiosi- 
at she felt dopres- 



F/Wr.S' FROil fniEND AXr> FOE. 309 

8od by her connoctioti with the Slieehans ; for 
so closely had Pog<ry guarded the children, that 
tiicy had never heard a breath against Joim's 
fair fame. Seeing his pure daily life and shar- 
ing liis afTectionate care, thoy looked upon him 
as tlie model Christian, and the most respcct- 
al)Io man in the hamlet. 

" Well," sighed Bessie, " I'm just wild about 
America. Timmy, and I'll not rest till I sec it. 
Bell Shannon and Maggie McRea are going, 
and they're the last o' the young folk I'm suf- 
fered to consort with, and I'll be just miserable 
behind tliem. Why can't your father and mine 
go, as well as other fathers ? " 

" I suppose," answered Timmy, " that my 
father thinks folk don't die fast enough for his 
trade in a country whcro's no potatoe rot and 
no starvation. But the few that do die tliere 
lave enough behind them to pay for head- 
stones, and that's what few does here." 

" Mammy turns pale now," said Bessie, " at 
tlie word « America ; ' but I know they'd all go 
if I set my will on goin,' for they'll never sep- 
arate from.me — the lovin' hearts?" 



m 



-f- 



I 




310 



GEilfi OF TIIK BOG. 



" If yo go, I'll follow, tliougii I should liave 
to run off," replied Timmy. 

Bossio smiled. " Tiiat's an old threat o' 
yours, Timmy, and will frighten no one but 
your father. But here's the turn of the road 
for you. Now go your way home, and I'll go 
mine. I'll not let you walk to the cottage, as 
mammy is grieved with you, saying it's you 
put America in my head. Good-night." 

" Good-night, Bessie. Keep up good heart, 
and who can say but we'll hear Elder Peter 
and John Sheehan singing the Psalms o' David 
to ' Yankee Doodle' yet ? They liave only tho 
cue tune in that country. Good-night." 

When Bessie parted from Timmy, she carao 
to the spot where she and her sister had seen 
tho women sitting on the grass, and, remem- 
bering that, she hastened on to overtake 
Marion. 

She has gone but a few steps, however, when 
she came upon one of tho strangers sitting 
alone on the roadside. 

" What's yer haste, maid ? " she called out. 
" I'm waitiu' hero to tell ye what will plazo 




BOG. 



VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 



311 



»ugh I should liave 



i an old threat o' 
ighten no ono but 
e turn of the road 
jT homo, and I'll go 
: to the cottage, as 
on, saying it's you 
Good-night." 
eep up good heart, 
1 hear Elder Peter 
the Psalms o' David 
They liave only tho 

Good-night." 

a Tiinmy, she carao 

her sister had seen 

grass, and, remem- 

d on to overtake 

teps, however, when 
strangers sitting 

? " sho called out. 
yo what will plazo 



yo. Ye are too fine a girl to waste ycr life 
drudging over cows, and flax and butter, shut 
up in a dull old cottage whcre's no dances nor 
songs. Tiiere's great want o' girls in the 
liiicn mills, and great wages given. Will yo 
go if yer way be paid ? " 

'• My mammy would never suffer mo," re- 
plied Bessie, as she passed by her without look- 
ing up, 

" Well, what is that to yo ? She's no mother 
to ye, but only a hard mistress that works ye 
sore and gives ye no pay." 

Bessie was too much afraid to lingor and 
reply in defense of Peggy, and so hurried on. 
But tlie stranger followed her, saying, " I know 
who yer mother is, and there's where ye'U find 
love. I've read ycr fortun' in the clouds that 
blow over the cottage. There's hapes o' gold, 
and fine clothes, and gay friends lying' just 
a lore ye. But there's a journey botwane thera 
an ye — ather by sea or land, as yo plaze, and 
rU lade yc, it yo like, to the illigant luck that's 
ahead." 

"Pll never leave my mammy for gold or 



312 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



fiiio clothes," cried Bessie, and then she ran on 
with tlie speod of an antelope. 

When she reached the cow-yard, Marion was 
there housing her rebellious ducks. She pas- 
sed her, and entered the cottage, resolved not 
to worry her mother just then by speaking 
of either America, or Timmy, or the strange 
woman. 




CHAPTER XXVII. 



GOING TO AMERICA. 



"'p\ ARLIN'," cried Peggy, aa Bessie entered 
iJ the door, " there's ill tidings come from 
dear Miss Grey in a letter to Mr. Murray. 
Hho's very ill, and will have us three come 
to lior by the morrow morning's post-chaise — 
slic said partic'lar ' not by the wagon, as yo 
war not children, now.' If she die, ycr best 
IVioiid is gone, my jewel." 

" No, mammy, you are my best friend, and 
all the world is small loss to me while God 
spares you and Marion," I'cplied the affection- 
ate girl. 

" And yet," said Peggy, reproachfully, " yo 
would lave mo and go to a strange land with 
the widow McRca." 

*' 0, mammy, dear, Ireland is such a |)oor, 
worn-out country for the young," said Bessie. 

313 



314 



OEits OF nil-: liOfi. 



" I'm longiii' to do something more than just 
breathe, and what can I do in Killyrookc ? " 

Toggy made no reply to this just question. 
After seating the family at table, she said, 
" I can niver ato again till I know how's dear 
Miss Grey. Oh, the tinder, lovin' friend she's 
been to mc ! Ate yc, but let mo go and pre- 
pare for the setting off." 

Twice since they left her had Miss Grey 
seen " the children," as she still -ailed them, 
but she could scarcely believe that the tall 
girls whom Peggy brought to her bedside were 

the same. 

She had loving words of advice, and a little 
legacy which she was anxious to settle on 
them while she had strength. 

" Arc they good girls ? " she asked. " Peg- 
gy, tell mo if they have ever grieved you? 
Speak the truth to me, — you can speak noth- 
ing but truth." 

"They have been Ivor true, and faithful, 
nnd lovin', and willin', but," and she turned a 
mournful look on Bessie, » but, she is wcfvry 
o' me, and o' poor, dear Ireland, and is rest- 



><;. 



QOINQ TO AMERICA. 



315 



more than just 
Cillyrookc ? " 
s just qucstiou. 
table, she said, 
now how's dear 
vin' friend she's 
[no go and pre- 

had Miss Grey 
till 'ailed them, 
that the tall 
lor bedside were 

rice, and a little 
lus to settle on 

asked. " Peg- 

or grieved you ? 

can speak noth- 

iie, and faithful, 
and she turned a 
jut, she is wefvry 
land, and is rest- 



less to follow the crowd to America, and my 
ill-art would die without her smile." 

Tlie poor girl hung her head, expecting a 
rebuke, but, to her surprise, Miss Grey said 
faintly, " I'm glad she has ambition to better 
her lot. Ireland is ground to the dust by a 
double oppression, and is no longer tho place 
for the young. If all go who can pay their 
way, there will still be more left than can 
earn their bread, and many of them must 
starve. If you and John should follow mo 
to the grave soon, what would these poor 
children do in that desolate hamlet ? I should 
bo well i)leased if part of Bessie's portion be 
fipent in getting her to America. Place her 
with some trusty friend who is going, and 
at tlio end of a year you can go to her, or she 
can return to you if not happy there But 
Marion was never so staid as Bessie ; keep 
lu'r close to your own side. Do not lot her 
«i't)ss the water unless you do." 

IVggy turned very, pale at these words, 
luit Bessie, overcome with joy, burst into 
tours. 



m 



h 



816 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



" Might I make bold to ask," said Peggy ; 
" have yc ivor got any account of their mother 
or father?" 

" Never, and I feel very sure both parents 
are dead," rcidied the lady. " Why do you 
worry yourself about them ? I told the woman 
you sent to ask, that you must never think of 
tliera, l)ut enjoy the children that God sent so 
mercifully into your kind hand." 

" I sent no woman, dear heart, nor man, 
Jiather," replied Peggy, in surprise. 

" One came with questions, she said, from 
you. I sent replies by the nurse, but did 
not sec her myself," aiiawcred Miss Grey. 

" Well, it's quite mysterious entirely ! " ex- 
claimed Peggy ; " but ye are now faint, dear, 
with the talkin'. Pll send all away and sit 
this night by yer side, and as many more 
iiigbfs as yc'll suffer me, but niver, nivcr can 
I re[)iiy yo for all tlio love and marcy yo 
showered on mo thim days." • 

Miss Grey rallied after this, and there being 
no need of Peggy's services, she insisted on 
her returning to Killyrooko. 



GOING TO AMERICA. 



817 



said Peggy; 
their mother 

both parents 
Why do you 
d the woman 
!vcr think of 
God sent so 

't, nor man, 

lO said, from 
•so, but did 
8 Grey, 
itirely ! " ex- 
r faint, dear, 
iway and sit 
many more 
sr, nivcr can 
1 marcy yo 
• 
[ there being 
insisted on 



Some bird of the air — if not Paddy Man- 
non — soon dropped a hint in the hamlet tliat 
" Miss Grey had left a great fortun' to the 
girls, and had ordered that Bessie with the 
gold open out in her hand should set sail as 
soon as she pleased for America." 

Peggy no longer tried to dissuade Bessie 
from her purpose, but suggested the subject 
of a family emigration. 

" Yo see, John, darlin', how the people is 
tliinnin' off, and how few is left here. What 
would ye say to us all goin' ? " 

Paddy sprang to his feet, and catching his 
hat off one peg and his staff from another, ex- 
claimed, " I'd say ' yis,' and bo off by the sun 
risin'." 

" Whist, Paddy," said his master, " and 
don't 1)0 spakin' when yor. not spoke to." 
And turning to Peggy, he exclaimed, " Whero 
would be our gratitude to God as has watched 
over our crops and herds, and given us plenty 
while others is starvin ? ' Could ye lave the 
dear grave and all the poor souls here without 
a one to care for them ? " 



318 



GEUS OF THE BOO. 



P 



" Shu ! slui ! " cried Puddy, " tl>o grave will 
take care o' itself, and as for tlio few souls 
here, there's none left tliat'a worth lookiu' 
afther. See, dears, I hecr,d at the black- 
smith's that all Ireland's goiii' soon, and thin 

we'll be left quite alone entirely, and, " 

" Paddy," cried John, as sharply as ho 
could say any thing, " if ye don't be quiet 
when yer masther and misthrcss wish to be 
talkin', PU send ye out to the cow-house with 
yer * stirabout.' " 

" And," continued Paddy, nothing daunted, 
"they said that in England the quauo was 
payiii' the passage o' whole shii>loads o' her 
paupers to get them to that fine country. 
And the 'Miricans ia that glad to get them — 
bein' all rich thimselves, and not a one to give 
their charity to — that they bo standin' on the 
shores, waitin' the ships to come in, and thin 
they fight to see who'll git the paupers to fill 
their fine empty workhouses." 

Peggy and the girls laughed, but John 
cried, sternly, " Will ye bo quiet, Paddy ? " 
"And," continued Paddy, deaf to aL\ re- 



OOINO TO AMERICA. 



319 



' tl>o grave will 
tlio few souls 
worth lookiu' 
at tlio black- 
soon, and thill 

, and, " 

sharply as ho 
don't be quiet 
CSS wish to be 
cow-house with 

ithing daunted, 
the quauo was 
lip-loads o' her 
; fine country, 
to get them — 
at a one to give 
standin' on tlie 
no in, and thin 
) paupers to fill 

l»ed, but John 
it, Paddy ? " 
deaf to aL\ re- 



proof, " I shall soon be ashamed to hold up 
my liea.l in Ireland if the very paupers can go 
and not wo — siicli a fine, rcsplctablo family, 
— there's not tlic like of us in that country, 
thongh some of thira's richer nor we. Wliiii 
^^^1I we start off, dears ? " ho cried, implor- 
ingly, " I'm afeared folk'll think we can't raise 
tlio passage-money." 

After a free discussion of the matter, it was 
decided that Bessie should go witli the Widow 
McRca ; who, after residing in America several 
years, and doing well jn a little store, had re- 
turned to Ireland for lier children. Bell, and 
Rose, whom she had left with a sister in 
Cloynmally. If, after a year's trial, Bessie 
was happy, John promised to sell the lease 
of the farm and join her with the fiunily. 

Few poor girls ever set off from that pov- 
erty-stricken land with such preparations for 
comfort on sea and on land as were made by 
the loving Sheehans for Bessie, who was the 
light of their eyes and the pride of their 
hearts. After all was done which the tcnder- 
est love could prompt, Mr. Murray, Elder 



820 



GE3fS OF THE BOO. 



Peter, and others of the little church were 
scut for, tlio oveuuig before Bessie's depariiire, 
to comineiid lier to the care of ncavou, and to 
ask God's mercy on llie lonely licarts she was 
to leave beliiiid. And in that hour this be- 
loved child was committed fully to the care 
of a covcuant-keeping God, for life or for death. 
When the tears were all shed, and the 
farewells all spoken, Peggy and Bessie and 
Marion set off to wait the post-chaise at Cloyn- 
mally. The loving Peggy had determined not 
to part with her child till the water should 
separate them. John dared not trust himself 
to go from the cottage with them. Several of 
the little church were waiting them at " the 
turn o' the road," and there was Paddy, from 
whom they had just parted at the cottage ! Ho 
had run across the wet bog and got there before 
them. And panting and sobbing, he cried out : 

" 0, Erin ! (that's the grand name for Ireland) swate Isle o* 

the sea ! 
Hinchfor'arJ no flowers shall blosshom on thee ; 
Thy herCiS shall be dead, and thy birds nivcr sing, 
Thy fowls shall bo hatched without feather or wing. 

0-ho-ne ! 



i*J*ll.i.'>iKa9«ia?iR..iiwirTT«:7i--s'53««»'*~'-— ^- 



■v...jLAaaajiM.*rf.i^.,4.^w^ ^-i^--,Yy<Miip p rrr-Th'-- 



chtirch wore 
o's doparfeiiro, 
cavou, and to 
carts she was 

hour this be- 
.' to tlio caro 
3 or for death, 
icd, and the 
I Bessie and 
aisc at Cloyn- 
itcrmined not 
water should 
trust himself 
. Several of 
hem at " the 
i Paddy, from 
cottage ! Ho 
at there before 
he cried out : 

md) swate Isle o* 

»; 
sing, 
wing, 
■ho-ne ! 



GOiyO TO AMEItlCA. 35 

" Thy trcos shall grow down'anls. with roots in the air 
No rain sh.II fall ,lown, but bo drought ivcry where 
And why this distrisstul confusion ? 'Kase why ? 
'K:uic swato Bessie Shechau's detarraincd to fly. 

0-ho-no I 
" Mad waves, now I bid ye quite paceful to lie, 
Wild winds don't yo whistle once more in the sky, 
OKI ..ccan, roek gintlo, yer i-oarin' giv o'er. 
Till lliu gim o' our cot reach Amirican shoi^ 

0-ho-ne I , 
" And Bessie, my jewel, whin the Yankees ask ye, 
Wl.y tine Pa,ldy Munnon am't crossin' the sea, 
Ju.^t till thini he's settlin- the farm, and that sLn 
With masther. and misthress, and Mar'on he'll come. 

0-ho-ne ! 
" Tlien will we 'bide with thim, and wander no more, 
But call yon Ameriky our native shore ; — •• 

And While Paddy .as.stiU howling out his 
lament, the post-chaise came up, and Peggy 
and Bessie drove off amid the tears and the 
God-bless-ye's of the loving little group. 

31 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A PAINFUL PARTING. 

TO I^cggy's amazement, as she and Bessie 
stepped on the ship's deck, the first person 
they encountered was Master Tiramy in his 
Sunday clothes, looking very sober. lie had, 
for the first time, been as good as his word in 
the matter of" running off." As ho could get 
neither permission nor money ■ cross tho sea, 
he was determined to have ast the last 

look of his old playmate before she left her 
native land for ever. 

Peggy was at first much displeased at sight 
of him, and said, half tenderly, and half re- 
proachlully, " See, Timmy, what ye've done 
by stirrin' up my darlin' about a strange laud. 
How coidd ye be so cruel, boy ? " 

« We'll all follow her soon, Misthress Shco- 
han," he answered, with a frank smile, " for 



I, 



:--^ - -v...i7-_i?,#'rj--'v:j 



r-^si-m 




A PAINFUL PAIiTINO. 



323 



yc'll not 'bide long after her, and my fathcr'll 
not 'Wide long behind me, for goin' I am, and 
that aforo long too ! So cheer up, since ye be- 
lave that all things work for good to thim as 
ho good, — and who's better nor Bessie and 
ycrsilf, dear ? What's tears about ? " 

This was said very bravely, but the color 
deepened on Timmy's cheek, and his voice 
trembled a little, and Peggy was forced to for- 
got her own sorrows and turn comforter. 
Casting a glance full of pity on the boy, she re- 
plied, " I forgive ye, dear child, from my 
heart's core ; now let's away, for, as poor 
Paddy says, ' Our sun is set for ever in the sky 
o' Ireland ' — poor, dear Ireland ! " 

After folding Bessie again and again in her 
arms, and calling down, in fervent tones, 
Heaven's " swatest blissings " on her head, she 
left her sitting in tears by the Widow McRca ; 
and taking Timmy's hand, as if helpless with- 
out aid, she turned to go. 

Then Bessie's high heart gave way, and run- 
ning after her, she threw her arms round her 
ucck, and cried, " Mammy, go home and tell 



.1 



^k 



324 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



father to soil the farm at oiico and come to mo, 
for I can never breathe the breath o' life away 
from you. And bo suro to bruig poor Paddy, 
for he'd die it' left behind, and I'm sure we bo 
just no family at all vjihout him — the dear, 
foolish man ! Will you come soon ? " 

Peggy did not look at the child of her lovo. 
She dared not trust herself, but answered, " If 
God will, darlin', ye'll see us in a twel'month. 
Farewell, farewell, my jewel ! " 

As she and Timiuy stepped off the vessel, 
tlicy met a woman in black leading by tho 
hand a young girl who was weeping bitterly, 
and who had only a shawl over her head. 
" There's more fnlks nor lis in sorrow, 
Timmy ; yon poor Iambic's to bid fiircwell to 
one she loves, and may bo she has little love to 
go back to, as yo and I have, lad," said Peggy, 
looking back pitifully at the weeping girl. 

As she uttered these words, the woman in 
black called out in a loud tone to her lingering 
companion, to hasten her steps. Peggy ut- 
tered a cry which startled Timmy. Then sho 
strove to compose herself, and said to tho won- 



■.'.ira\as;?rJst«!r»Mffia^w^'3^^*9w*i^!'tffTmfiri»^»ffl«*fJi^^ 



i como to mo, 
h o' life away 
t; poor Paddy, 
'm sure we bo 
in — tlio dear, 
11?" 

I of her love, 
luswered, " If 
a twcl'month. 

ff the vessel, 
adiiig by tbo 
;piiig bitterly, 
rov hor head, 
i iu sorrow, 
)id forewell to 
8 littlo love to 
," said Peggy, 
ling girl. 
1)0 woman iu 
her lingering 
3. Poggy ut- 
ly. Then sho 
id to the won- 



A PAINFUL PARTINO. 

dcriiig boy, "Tlio voice sounded iiat'ral and 
friglitcued me for a moment. Tliat's because 
my heart's weak now; let us haste away, 
dear." And yet she looked back; but tho 
woman was lost in the crowd, and sho heard 
only tlie sailors ordering all on shore who de- 
sired to go. Pressing the boy's hand, as if 
tlius sho could still t.'io anguish in her heart, 
site led the way to the inn where they wore to 
take the post-cliaise. 

Wiiile waiting tho hour for setting off, 
Timmy strove to divert Peggy's mind from the 
sea by talking of himself and his plans. 

" Father will nivcr bind me to Ireland," he 
cried. " A boy has but one life, and should 
pass that where he wills. What can an old 
man with a dried up heart know o' the ambi- 
tion o' a boy ? " 

" Timmy," said Peggy, reprovingly, « ye 
have one ^ncat fault, I may say, a su», aml- 

" What me, mysilf? " cried Timmy, in Sur 
prise ; " you surely can't moan that ? " 

'• Yes, Timmy, I do moan just that," an- 
swered Peggy. 




V 



"~rtRS8ss*r-«<rj33 




826 



GEMS OF THE HOG. 



"A great fault! And p-ay wimt can it 
be?" cried the boy, liis fine eyes wide open, 
and his cliooks aglow willi wonder. 

" Why, Timmy, it's the onrespcctfnl way yo 
spake o' yer dear father. Ye remombcr God 
bids yo to honor yer father and yer mother, 
and to obey them in all things." 

"It would 1)0 sore hard to obey the elder 
<in all things,'" replied Timmy, quite relieved 
to find he was not to be accused of lying or 
theft. " Now, as yer old Paddy says, ' he's a 
Btono man, made by himself out o' his ow.i 
matarial,' and has no human wakencss about 
him. Yo mind. Mistiness Sheehan, when I 
was a small bit o' a boy, and would gather all 
the girlies in the place about me and sow dolls, 
rags with them, he called mo 'a sheep,' 
and bid mc be off playing rough with the 
lads. And now that I'm ^oekin' to work hard 
like a man, ho turns about and bids me go to 
a tailor and learn to sew. I'll not do it if I 
die. I fools the great strength in my bones, 
and I'll lot it out, ather on the stono or yet on 
tho land, — and I'll do it iu America, too! 



■* iii|i'ilrn,tirgiri^''-ft1r ;-i»4WK???r?=KS»**^«»^'>)'B*''SJWKiM6» 






it cai! it 
idc open, 

il way yo 
ibcr God 
• mother, 

the older 
Q relieved 
f lying or 
^s, ' lie's a 
»' liis own 
es3 about 
11, when I 
giithcr all 
sow dolls, 
' a sheep,' 
, with the 
work hard 
Is mo go to 
)t do it if I 
my bones, 
10 or yet on 
lorioa, too! 



A PAINFUL PABTINO. 



327 



That 1 will. If the elder likes to go with mo 
lie's wilcome, for laud's plinty there, and if 
not, he'll just have to 'bido where ho is." 

"Ah, Timmy, my lad, yon's no way to 
spake o' tliim that's ilono so much for ye, and 
that's so proud o' ye," said Peggy. 

" Who's proud o' mo, Misthross Shoehau ? " 
asltcd the boy. "Not my fatlier, sure; he's 
Boro ashamed o' mo, and always askiu' mo 
wliy I arn't like Ned McGco and the Carney 
lads ; and they goes about nights howlin' like 
boars, and stonin' old women's cats, and the 
like. And all the trifliu' /does is to whittle 
thread-winders, and gather flowers, and buy 
sugar plums, for the girls ; and for that ho 
calls mo ' a sheep.' No, none is proud of mo, 
but one loves me, —that's my mother." 

" Dear lad, Elder Peter is too proud o' yo 
for a Christian man. He's never dono tellin' 
o' yer fine lessons and yer honest behavior; 
and both himself and Mr. Murray is just quito 
proud o' yer Latin larnin', hopin' yersclf will 
bo a schoolmasthor yot," said Peggy, trium- 
phantly. 



I 



I 



. % 



\ 






' 



m 



828 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



Timmy laughed outright. "Latin is stuff 
for tho like o' ino ! I'm not tho makiu' o' a 
scholar, and if 1 should even drag on at tho 
book till I'd got a school, woe to tho urchins 
bcnath me! Tl»i» great power o' strength 
that's within my bones must como out and 
strike somewhere ; if not tho stone or tho land, 
then on the boys' backs. Spake yo, that has 
such power over tho elder, and strive to get 
the harness off my showlders, that I may be a 
man as well as look like one. Hero am I, 
more nor seventeen years old, and yet askin' 
my father may I do this or that to arn my 
bread ; and so doin' just nothing at all. I'll 
6ure be ' a sheep ' at this rate." 

Peggy promised him her influence ; and 
while they were talking thus tho post-chaise 
drove up. They took their jJaces on the top, 
and were off for tho home for which Peggy's 
heart was yearning. She was hoping the love 
yet loft her there might fill the blank just 
made by Bessie's departure. 



n is Btuff 
lakiii' o' a 
oil at tho 
10 urchins 
strength 
e out and 
• tho laud, 
I, that has 
ivo to got 
; may bo a 
[ero am I, 
yet asltiu' 
to am iny 
t all. I'll 

3UC0 ; and 
post-chaiso 
)n tho top, 
ch Peggy's 
g tho lovo 
blank just; 



CHAPTER iXIX. 



STOLEN BY THE FOE. 



PEGGY had left Marion in care of tho cot- 
tage, with many charges to " be tinder o' 
her poor, lovin' father, and civil to Paddy, and 
to have all things shiiiin' on her return." 

Childlike, Marion had dried her tears, and 
begun to picture to herself tho beautiful 
tilings which Bessio would send her from 
America, and to anticipate her own voyage 
tliitlier. She was a great "tease," and was 
already laying plans to worry the indulgent, 
easy John into speedy preparations for the 
change. 

l>y dinner time she was singing about tho 
cottage as merrily as if no empty seat were 
tlnn-c, and as if tho pillow beside her own were 
sliU to bo pressed by tho bright head which 
had used to lio there. 






330 



330 



OEMS OF TIIK liOO. 



Jo]^ aud Paddy had at loiigili dried their 
tears, aud gone to work in a licld at somo 
little distance from tlic house. Towards 
nightfall they heard loud voices in Mio direc- 
tion of tho cottage, and then shouts and 
cries. 

" Whist, Paddy," cried John. " What can 
yon noises bo ? " 

" Och," I'cplied Paddy, coolly, " it's on'y 
some o' our neighbors bating tho life out o' a 
few o' tlieir spare childer. When my milkin' 
time comes, I'll go up and quiet the distar- 
bance." 

John smiled, and as tho voices ceased ho 
thought no more of the circumstances till he 
returned homo and found the stool and pail be- 
side a half-milked cow, but no supper ready, 
and no bright little Marion waiting at the door 
to welcome him. He called her loudly, and 
went from room to room through the cottage, 
but in vain ; all was silent there. His alarm 
was increased by Paddy coming in from tho 
yard, whither he had gone to milk, holding up 
tho little rod shawl Marion always woro at 



-„%' Wiw t ma wBi»feiai>M>aaiiaiS»'' 



STOLEN BY THE FOE. 



331 



•ied their 

at somo 

Towards 

ho dircc- 

outs and 

Vhat can 

it's on'y 
out o' a 
y inilkiii' 
10 distar- 

eased ho 
OS till he 
d pail bo- 
or ready, 
: the door 
•udly, and 
cottage, 
[lis alarm 
from the 
oldiiig up 
woro at 



niilkiiig, and crying out, in a tone of agony, 
" Wiicrc's our child ? Tiic gypsies or the evil 
.sperlts has stole her away, and left midniglit iji 
my soul. Ohone ! who'll give mo my child 
afore 1 dies o' fear ? " 

Jolin grasped the little kerchief, and hold- 
ing it up towards the light, gazed at it as if ho 
liopod there to read the mystery of her ab- 
sence. Jacob did not look more anxiously at 
tlic coat of many colors. 

Tiie two ran from house to house in great 
alarm, hoping to learn the child's Isito. The 
ncighl)ors had heard a noise, but " thought 
Piuldy was batiu' the boys who had stolon his 
dncivs, and that the cries camo from them." 
They almost ridiculed the fears of those two 
strong men, but tlicy joined in their search 
through bog and wood, and finally wandered 
toward tlie lough. One persoi; had see a strange 
man and a woman in black talking with 
.Mfirion at the cow-yard, and another iiad seen 
a strange horso and jaunting car standing at 
the end of the lane ; but that was all. 



f 
I 

i 



•I 



f 



332 



QEAfS OF THE BOO. 



There was little sleep that night in Killy- 
rooke. John and Paddy, weeping like children 
and acconijjanied by a band of pitying neigh- 
bors, went from house to house, blew the horn 
and dragged the lough. 

While the men were abroad, the women, 
each with her rush taper in hand, went to the 
cottage to gossip over (lie mystery. In their 
womanly tenderness they forgot all differences, 
and all forgave Peggy for her neat dairy, 
her glass windows, her table-cloth and her 
carpet. 

Two boys who had been dispatched for Mr. 
Murray now returned with him and Elder 
Peter ; the latter, though somewhat anxious 
about the fate of his own heir, took good care 
not to allude to it, lest he might expose the 
weakness of his family government. 

Scarciiing proved all in vain ; so the neigh- 
bors dropped off, one by one, till only Mr. Mur- 
ray and I^ldor Peter remained. 

" Have you no suspicion, John, where she 
can bo ? " asked the minister. 



*■ 



vmisimMsialti^^-xmimi.:' 



;lit in Killy- 
ke children 
tying ncigh- 
3w the hora 

;he women, 
went to the 
J. In their 
differences, 
neat dairy, 
h. and her 

led for Mr. 

and Elder 
lat anxious 
k good care 
expose the 

) the ncigli- 
ly Mr. Mur- 

, where she 



STOLEN BY THE FOE. 



333 



" Niver a one," replied John, shaking his 
head mournfully. " And how'll iver I meet 
Peggy after betrayin' her trust thus? " 

" You, perhaps, have some thought about it, 
Paddy ? " asked Mr. Murray again. 

"'Dade, thin, I have a fine thought jist 
come to me," replied Paddy. " But it might 
be oncivil to spake o't hero, as I'd bo to name 
one I'm forbid to spake about." 

"Speak out, Paddy," cried John, "and 
let's have none o' yer long talks or yer non- 
sense in a time like this." 

" Well, Mr. Murray, sir," exclaimed Paddy, 
"it is jist this: Three nights agone I war in 
at the horse-shoer's ; and more men war there ; 
and in comes the inimy o' this house and this 
name, and she in black wades, to be sure! 
And the men all asked her where did she live, 
and what did she work. And och, sorra me ! 
didn't I, as war forbidden o' my misthress to 
look on her or to breathe her name, like the 
fool I bees, go talkin' to her ? 

" She asked mo about the fortun' Miss 
Grey gave the ohildern, and where was the 



f 



im nt ^ m 





334 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



gold kept ; and I told her in a belt about tlio 
darliii' childor.s' waists. And she asked l)y 
what vessel would Bessie go, and who would go 
with her, aud all that like. 

" She said herself was goiu' to America as 
soon as the passage money was ariicd ; and 
that now, in the mano time, she was about the 
country sarviu' a society o' holy ladies in the 
great city, by layin' tax on the people and col- 
lictin' money and orphints for a new 'shylum 
they war buildin'. Ochloch! if that same 
sarpint with a human face has stole off our 
jewel ! What an illigant orphint she'd be to 
ornamint a 'shylum with ! I belavo yon one's 
got her by my folly. Och, ye miserable man, 
Paddy Mannon, will ye nivcr lam wisdom by 
the sorrow ye bring on yersilf and others ! " 

" Paddy, did you tell any one that the child- 
ren carried Miss Grey's gold about them?" 
asked Mr. Murray. 

" Dado I did. I heerd my misthress say she 
was scwin' Bessie's up in a belt for her to wear 
about her waist. And she always trated the 
twos quite aqual, so I thought Mar'ou's gold 



.__ ,;;;»«SP"" 



STOLEN BY Tim FOE. 



335 



It about tho 

asked by 
Ijo would go 

America as 
arucd ; and 
IS about the 
idics ill the 
iplo and col- 
Q\v 'sbylum 
' that same 
stole off our 
slie'd be to 
vc you one's 
serablc man, 

1 wisdom by 
otbors ! " 
lat the cliild- 
)ut them?" 

iress say she 
• hei' to wear 
s trated the 
[ar'ou's gold 



would be there, too; and that if yon one 
thou<;bt to steal it, she'd find it unpossible I " 

Tlicre was now a loud knock at the door, 
and Paddy leaped half way across the floor to 
o|(cn it. Tlicrc was Father Clakcy's honest 
old face, flushed with excitement and terror. 
At siglit of him, Paddy darted back more 
quickly than he had gone forward, and hid 
himself behind the rough settle on which 
John was seated, for this was the first time 
siiici> lie had left his flock that he had met the 
priest face to face. Whenever ho had seen 
him coming down the road, he had always 
foiuid it convenient to run into the cow-house 
and draw the wooden bolt behind him, or to 
hide under the hedge. His allegiance was 
broken, but his fear remained. 

" Any news yet, friends, o' the pleasant 
child ? " asked the old man. " I've a sore fear 
on my heart that evil's come to her tlirough 
the mad boasting o' this fool, Mannon. Come 
out o' that, ye miserable crctur," cried the 
priest, striking a heavy blow on the back o' the 
settle. Paddy shrieked as if it had fallen on 



i 



* , ^ I 



336 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



liis licad, but did not appear. " Como out and 
tell what ye rcvalcd to you woman in black, 
after yo loft tlio smith's sliop wIkm-o yc were 
boastinj^ about the ^^i\A. I'lu tuUl, sir," lio 
f-aid, addressing Mr. Murray, " by th:! man o' 
the Bhop, that tins woman followed him out, 
talkin' with him, till he got afraid o' her and 
ran homo over the fields." 

They could hear Paddy's loud breathing and 
almost the l)cating of his heart; but they could 
not get him out of his hiding-place till Mr. 
Murr.yv took a seat on the settle and bade him 
come and sit beside him, promising that no man 
should lay a hand on him. Then the poor fel- 
low crci)t out, pale as one of his own ghosts, 
and whispc" d, " I knows uo more ; I's toid yo 
all." 

" What did yea woman say to yo, Man- 
/ on : •' cried Father Clakey, stamping his foot 
on the floor. 

•' She — -Jm — och ! she said she war akin to 
our chil — childer ! that hcrsilf was ather tlielr 
mother or their cusin, — she'd forget which! 
But that beiu' their kin, she'd get oaougli o' 



tl 



i\ 



i%i\f*AZ -■ ,^^^S&^i^-J^^*^ 



'^aSs&^Sy-*'SS!ar'';V<'iSi.. 



-j.sm 



STOLEN nr THE FOE. 



337 



no out and 
II in bluck, 

yo wcro 
d, sir," Ijo 
ho man o' 
(I liiiu out, 
o' her and 

iatliin<; and 

tlioy could 

;e till Mr. 

1 bade him 
hat no man 
10 poor fcl- 
\vn ghosts, 

I's told yo 

) yo, Man- 
iig his foot 

war akin to 
athor tliolr 

got which ! 
enough o' 



tho gold to carry her across tho soa, — what- 
ivcr ! och ! my heart ! " 

" And why, then, didn't ye tell this at ouco 
to yer misthrcss, yo miserable loon?" cried 
the priest. 

" Bckase, yer, — yer rivcrenco, she said if 
I'd tell a word she spake, she'd bate me aforo 
all tho boys ! So, so, out o' silf-rispect I hild 
my tongue ; and see ye all what's come o't. Is 
there no world on this arth that we can 'mi- 
grate to where she'll not be ? What's Ivor tho 
use o' goin' to America now, and her there ? " 
" If this family lave their native land, I'll 
advise thim to lave ye in it, Mannon.' Tho 
House o' Corriction is the place for yo, with 
wit enough to do evil, and not enough to do 
good," said the priest. 

" Please, sir," said John, « he's a paceable 
cretur" and would lay down his life for the 
childor." 

" More's the pity he hadn't done it then, 
'stead o' betraying one o' them into the hand 
o' an emeny. Yon evil one is no doubt by this 
time off with yer child, unless she larns there's 

93 



iffl >yjwg>«*" wi^ ' .' ^'^-"'-'^-'^' 



JU«-^ 



338 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



no money about her ; if she find that out too 
late, she'll set her adrift iu a strange place. 
Though if she had tlio two in America, she'd 
make capital out o' them. ;— Heaven help 
then the fine rispoctful things they war to 
ivery body. I've had men out sarching for 
the child till I got this word, and then I 
thought it vain. But I'm at yer service, and 
will turn the whole town out o' their beds if 
ye need; good-night, neighbors." And, to 
Paddy's relief and joy, he closed the door be- 
hind him. 



I 



A'e/aiimfmmMmm^fi^m'- 




CHAPTER XXX. 

PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 

IT was part of Timiny's plan not to appear 
to have boon far away, and, at liis leisure, 
to drop in at his homo as if ho had only been 
at his cousins', where he often passed a night. 
So when ho and Peggy were set down ab " the 
turn o' tiio road," he insisted on walking to 
Killyrooke with her, carrying her baskets. 

It was just at nightfall thoy entered the 
cottage. Mr. Murray, Elder Peter and some 
liiilf dozen other friends were there again, con- 
Koliiig John and Paddy, who had spout the day 
in unavailing tears. 

When Poggy saw these grave men sitting 
ii'. her little parlor in solemn couclavo, she was 
surprised. As no smile lighted any face iu 
the group, she took alarm, and turning very 

339 



840 



GEMS OF THE DOG. 



pale, cried, " whcrc's my dailiu' cMld, that 
she's not at the gate to greet mo ? " 

Still no one spoke, and she cried out, 
" John, whore's my child ? " 

Poor John burst into tears, and could not 
reply. Mr. Murray then said, calmly, " Mis- 
tress Shcehan, you are not of those who expect 
to receive good at the hand of the Lord and 
not evil. You have seen too much of His 
mercy to doubt Ilim now, even though clouds 
and darkness surround Him." 

" Is sho dead, then ? tell me, dear hearts, 
and not kapo mo in this great fear. I, that 
ha' given all to God, did not withhold her. 
And if lie has taken her to Himself, He's took 
no more nor His own." 

Encouraged by her calmness, John began a 
recital of tiie painful story. As soon as " the wo- 
man dressed in black " was mentioned, Peggy 
cried out, " I saw her, darlin', with my own 
two eyes, and I heard her voice. It was vii/ 
lamhie sho war draggin' in tears, on shipboard 
— och, it war you fearful woman; and I 



tss^'^mmsmm^ms^^&iism.^ 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 



341 



cbild, that 
cried out, 

could not 
nly, " Mis- 
kvlio expect 

Lord and 
ich of His 
ugh clouds 

oar hearts, 

V. I, that 

hhold her. 

He's took 

HI hcgan a 
18 " the wo- 
ued, Peggy 
h ray own 
It was mij 
L shipboard 
u ; aud I 



might have sa\ed the child — Timray aud I. 
She war at o ir very hand, wern't she, dear 
boy ? " 

Timray nodded, and Elder Peter looked 
surprised at his knowing wliat was seen on 
8hipl)oard ; but he was too shrewd to ask ques- 
tions. 

" If ye had toM me the darlin' were hid 
safe in the gr^ve, I'd ha' done like David when 
his cliild war dead ; but to be in her hands," 
cxclairaed Peggy. 

" Slie's not in her hands nor yet in her 
])ower. Mistress Sheehan,' replied Mr. Mur- 
ray. " Slie's as safe now, surely, as if she 
wei-e in the grave, an'd the sarae love watches 
over her. Bessie is on the ship, and will rc- 
l)ort the woman to the captain and ask protec- 
tion. Keep you quiet, and soon you'll hear 
of the two being safe on the other shore. I 
beg yon not to cast away your confidence, 
which hath great recompense of reward. God 
has brought you throngh gf and sore trials 
already, and bo assured lie will not now give 
yonr peace over into the hand of your enemy." 



;.j5j^:;^?jj¥^^jSBiw«*w«^-*'ri^-''^srT^'-'"'*;.^-f=»r----'T'i 



; % 



842 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



" He will not, dear Mr. Murray," cried 
Peggy, smiling through her tears. " That's 
an inimy tliat's vanquished and that has lost 
her power. She may plot evil, but can never 
carry it out agin us, for we're hid under the 
shadow o' the Almighty. Once, friends, in 
tiio midnight, I had a sore struggle about 
you one ; and I thought she'd yet triumpli, 
hut the great peace come and, rolled like a 
billow o' love o'er my soul, and the fear was 
gone, and has never conic back since then. 
Her voice makes mo start for a moment, but 
then I remembers that she's under my feet, 
and no weapon formed agin rac or mine can 
prosper. Ye may think this bold talk, friends, 
for a poor weak sinner, but I've had the word 
o' tlie Lord for't, and His word standeth sure. 
I'll yet clasp my two children in the land o' 
the living." 

" 0, woman, great is thy faith ! " cried the 
pastor, *' and according to thy faith be it unto 
thee." 

When John and Peggy opened the door to 
let their guests out, thoy saw several of their 



iriiii* II I 



r. 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 



343 



av," cried 
, " That's 
it has lost 
can never 
under the 
friends, in 
gglc about 
t triumph, 
lied like a 
e fear was 
since then, 
loment, but 
!r my feet, 
' mine can 
ilk, friends, 
d the word 
ideth sure, 
the land o' 

cried the 
I be it unto 

lie door to 
•al of their 



Immblc neighbors waiting at the gate for their 
departure, that they might go in and sympa- 
thize with Peggy. Once witiiin the cottage, 
they commenced, in true Irish style, to weep 
and liowl ; wliilo some few, having got a hint 
about Nan, began to curse her, hoping thus to 
manifest in the strongest manner their sorrow 
for Peggy. But she, pale and calm to a de- 
gree wliich astonished them, said, "Take 
seats, kind neighbors, and cease this noise. 
It breaks my heart, and it will not bring back 
my cliild. Nather let mo hear any that would 
befriend me curse a soul that God has made. 
Hundreds o' prayers has gone up to Heaven 
fiom these lips for that evil woman, that she 
might yet be pardoned ; and do ye think that 
after that I could stand by and hear her 
cursed ? Maybe my children will be let to ' 
bless her soul. There's many a one, friends, 
as evil as her, that's been washed and mado 
clean, and at last been let in among the holy." 
" And thin ain't ye sorry after the child ? " 
asked an old woman, who was disappointed 
in not being allowed to curse Nan — cursing 



|1 



844 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



being being one of her professions, for the 
practice of which she always cxpoctcd to be 
paid. 

" Yes, Betty, I'm heart-sick for my child, 
but I'm not goin' to rave like au onrasonin' 
woman. I belavo she's in the Lord's hand, 
and whoever's there is safe. Yc all know, 
dear women, how I loves the child ; so look at 
me now and see what strength God can give 
to a poor weak mortal. This is the conifort 
and joy my religion gives in distress. Ye 
mind it helped one long ago to trust Him and 
be quite asy when a flood covered all but him- 
self and his family. It enabled others to walk 
calm ill a fiery furnace, and others again in 
a den full up o' lions; and couldn't it bear 
me through this ? There's only one ocean be- 
tween me and my children, and I've not got to 
bridge it afore I can get to them. God pre- 
pared a way over the mighty sea long before I 
was born, and all I have to do now is just to 
go over it. And that I'll soon do, and gather 
my family all about me." 

Tliis last sentence set the poor neighbors to 



■ liiMii-'rir''-' 



Tiiijtei) i<i n 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 



345 



)ns, for the 
)octcd to be 

r my child, 
1 onrasoniii' 
jord's hand, 
all know, 
; so look at 
od can give 
the conilbrt 
[istress. Ye 
ist Him and 
all but him- 
thers to walk 
ers again in 
Idn't it bear 
10 ocean be- 
'vo not got to 
I. God pre- 
long before I 
ow is just to 
, and gather 

neighbors to 



howling and weeping again, for they realized 
the sad loss tliis family would bo to poor 
Killyrooko, whence the younger people, and 
indeed all who were able to work, were going 
as fast as they could get money to pay their 
passage to America. 

" Cease yer howlin' there, oiild bodies," 
cried Paddy, who had slipped off his chair at 
the departure of " the fine company " and seat- 
ed liimsclf on the clay floor in a dark corner, 
where he now sat hugging his knees. " Cease 
yer noise, will ye, and not put my misthress 
off the idee o' the voyage ? Think what a fine 
thing this is to be for us as a family, and iny- 
silf in pertic'lar ! Why, whin I raches yon 
illigant country, I'll be no more ' Paddy ^lan- 
non,' but ' Mr. Mannon.' Old Tim Marphy got 
word in a letter from Judy and Dave that the 
schoolmaster here must direct all their letters 
to ' Mish Judy Marphy,' and ' Misther David 
Marphy ; ' . for they was all ' Misther ' and 
' Mish ' in that counthry. There we'll have 
' Mish Bessie Shechan,' and ' Mish Mar'on 
Sheohan,' and ' Misther Mannon,' as well as 



m 




846 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



the grand lady and gintleman — John and 
Peggy — above us all ! " 

" Paddy, cease yer nonsinso now, like a 
good man, while I have a few words with the 
pityiu' neighbors," cried Peggy imploringly. 
" Here's poor Molly waitin' to get in a word 
to me." 

" Well thin," cried the poor woman, wiping 
away her tears, " will ye suffer us to take the 
work o' the cottage off ye till ye gits a bit over 
the freshness o' the throublc? Norra Burke 
will do the railkin' witli licr strong young 
hands, and Sullivan's wife will make the 
butter as nato as an angel could do it; and 
mysilf, — well, I'll just do the manest thing ye 
bid me, in mimory o' what ye did for my 
Mickey when he was laid up o' the shivers." 

" Ten thousand thanks to yo all, good neigh- 
boVs," said Peggy, " but at a time like this I 
could niver spare my work out o' my own 
hands. When the hands is busy, the heart's 
far easier nor other times. Half the sin and 
sorrow in the world comes o' idleness. I'll 
put through all the work that the three of u a 



i..„-. 



?. 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 



347 



1 — John and 

3 now, like a 

words with tho 

;y imploringly. 

get iu a word 

woman, wiping 
iia to take tho 
5 gits a bit over 
Norra Burke 
strong young 
srill make the 
uld do it; and 
nanest thing ye 
ye did for my 
)' the shivers.' 
all, good neigh- 
time like this I 
jut o' my own 
usy, the heart's 
alf the sin and 
i' idleness. I'll 
the three of us 



used to do ; and beside that, if any o' ye are 
o'crburdened, I'll lend a hand with the needle. 
I'd wish, dear neighbors, to be that lovin' and 
helpful to ye while I 'bido hero, that ye'll miss 
me sore when I've gone. I'd desire ye to re- 
member myself, and also the words o' my Mas- 
ter that I've so often read to ye. Ye mind that 
ho said, ' I will send ye another Comforter,' 
and ye see he has fulfilled his word to me. 
I'd be w'ld now only for that. He's as ready 
to comfort ye, as me, if ye'll but go to Him." 



"■=w»BW*»5iB!i«siMasi*®^aw»Msi^^ 



CHAPTER XXXL 



NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 

NAN O'Gonnau had been for some timo 
plotting against the gold which she fan- 
cied Miss Grey was to leave in vast sums to tho 
Sh'jchau girls. Having heard that a mystery 
'.iuiig about the fate of their mother, she had 
V 'kedall that distance to learn wliat she could 
from Miss Grey, saying that Peggy had sent her. 
Although she got little information for tho 
trouble, she saw enough to satisfy her that 
there was wealth in tho house ; and concluded 
that, as there were no children, there would be 
no legal heirs to it. Wlien, thoreforo, she 
heard, first by rumor and then from Padily Man- 
non, that the girls were now rich, and carried 
their gold about tlioir waists, she thought her 
hour had come to reach An.orica — that land of 
golden dreams. She had therefore laid her plans 

348 



i-. 



NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WOnLD. 



.^4^ 



WORLD. 

)r some timo 
vhich sho fan- 
ist sums to the 
liat a mystery 
lOthcr, sho had 
wliat she could 
;y had scut hor. 
nation for tho 
itisfy licr that 
and couchidcd 
there would he 
therefore, she 
om Paddy Man- 
ch, and carried 
lie thought her 
— that land of 
re laid her plans 

348 



for sailing in tho same ship with Bessie, re- 
friirrliiig llie meek wiilow ^IcRca as no ol)staclo 
whatever in the w.i;, ^iie had niarlced out. It 
then occurred to her that she " might as well 
liavc hoth fortunes as one ; " so, after Peggy 
liad gone in the day's post-chaise with Bessie, 
siie, with an accomplice, had watclicd about tho 
cottage till sho was sure Marion was alone, and 
then leaving their horse and jaunting-car in a 
by-lane, aCcostc*. the child as sho came out to 
milk. 

Marion, of i-ourse, was fearless of danger, 
and cliattcd freely of tho family plans. Nan 
induced her to leave tho yard, and go to tho 
laiH^ to see tlio jaunting-car in which she was 
to bo driven to the sea-port that night. Once 
tliore, she was pressed in, and, seated on a 
trunk, was driven off in a state of dreadful 
terror, having by this time recognized in tho 
woman in black the one who had slioutcd so 
roughly to herself and her sister on tho road- 
side, some little time before. 

Nan was very tender in her manner towards 
hor, and told licr that she was her mother. Sho 



350 



OE^fS OF THE BOO. 



said that long ago, being in great trouble, she 
)m<l " taken lave of bcr sinscs and wandered 
oir," and that when afterwards she " camo 
bacli to her wit8," Miss Grey and Peggy had 
her children, and refused to give them up ; but 
that now, finding Bessie was going across the 
sea, slie had resolved to follow her, and to have 
both her children to herself. 

" Why, then, couldn't you tell this to our 
dear mammy," asked the child, " and not 
break her heart l-y stealing mo ? " 

" A body can nivcr stale what's already her 
own, darlin'," replied tuo woman. " Kapo yo 
quite asy, and ye'll see ye nivcr had sich a 
friend as mysilf afore." 

The man, too, who drove, was kind and 
jovial, and described America, where he had 
been, as a glorious country, in which it was 
holiday all the week, and gold was to be had 
for taking. 

Nau wrapped a large, warm shawl about the 
child, who soon sobbed herself to sleep, from 
wliich she did not wake for hours ; and then to 
weep anew at her strange situation. 



NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 



351 



at trouble, sho 
and wandered 
Ja she " came 
lid Peggy had 
them up ; hut 
ling across the 
or, and to have 

3II this to our 

lild, -" and not 

?" 

it's already her 

m. "Kapc yo 

ivcr had sich a 

was kind and 
L, where he had 
n which it was 

was to be had 

shawl about the 
f to sleep, from 
ars ; and then to 
it ion. 



As the sun rose high, the party ncarcd tho 
wliarf, and the man, setting down Nan's small 
trunk, drove off to witness tho sailing of tho 
vessel from a higlit beyond. Leading Marion 
by one hand, and dragging licr trunk with tho 
otlior. Nan pushed and cUiowed licr way 
through tlie crowd, with an indepeudon( ; that 
would have satisfied (ho most ardent advocate 
of woman's ritriit to any work and any post. 

Bessie was astoinnled by tho sight of her 
sister and tho tale of the coarse woman, but 
with her natural delicacy she strove to hide 
her anguish from the rude company on the 
deck. Tlsc Widow McRea, holding fast to her 
own children, lest Nan might claim them too, 
accused lier of kidnapping Marion, but her 
voice was soon diowned in u torrent of words; 
and then the deck wu'^ cleared of all but pas- 
sengers, and tho ship got under way. 



As soon as thoy ^ re fi/i-ly > /, Nan walked 
about on a tour cT U?!Cov3jy, see if there 



■ ' >i,naW-lt-;Jfeagr.'jS.1.K; T' i" '* "' 



352 



' GEMS OF THE BOG. 



might not be some of her acquaintances on 
board. Bessie calmed Marion's foars by saying 
tluit they would fiwd some Christian hearts in 
America to pity them. 

" Do you think she's our mother, Bessie ? " 

ayked Marion. 

" No," replied Bessie. " I think she's the 
body our dear mammy dreaded so greatly. 
But, dear child, God will 'bide with us oa sea 
as well as on laud if we but trust Him ; and 
we will trust Him, come life or death." 

It took but a few hours to consign the 
Widow McRca and the four girls to their 
bc.-ths, where they spent most of their time. 
But when the Atlantic Ocean assailed the 
equanimity of Nan O'Gormau, ho found more 
than his match, and came oil beaten. It 
would have taken two oceans tossed by the 
wildest storms to lay licr low, or to " unman " 
her to such a degree that she could not walk 
and talk. 

At length the voyage was over, and the ship 
beat up the Narrows towards the harbor of 
Now York. The girls clung frantically to the 



:;-;i3;;«^i"lEf; S-.i^Jl^- 



G. 

jquaintauces on 
; fears by saying 
•istiau hearts in 

other, Bessie ? " 

think she's the 
idcd so greatly, 
with us oa sea 
trust Him ; and 
• death." 
to consign the 
r girls to their 
t of their time, 
ui assailed the 
, he found more 

olT beaten. It 
a tossed by the 
or to " unman " 

could not walk 

?or, and the ship 
8 the harbor of 
frantically to the 



J\KW UOilES m THE NEW WORLD. 353 

j)()or widow, lest they might be separated from 
her; l)iit oa tlie vessel's touching at Custlo 
Garden, Nan seized a hand of cacli, and dragged 
tliem to the nearest hack. She ordered tlic 
driver to secure her box, and then drive them 
to some house kept by one of her own country 
people. Bessie told the man sliu would not go 
with this woman, and Marion reached out her 
arms from tlie carriage window, calling piti- 
fully after the Widow MoRca, But before the 
l)Owildered creature could reply, the hackman 
mounted his box, touclied his horses with tlie 
whij), and drove off through the densely 
crowded streets. 

Nan was very angry when she found that 
Marion was penniless, and vowed revenge on 
Paddy Mannon for deceiving her, and thus 
burdening lior with this child. But she made 
free use of the money she had taken from Bes- 
sie, both to rest after her voyage, and to buy 
fresh widow's weeds. 



Bess'o and Marion made quite a little stir 



' ■n gv ^- snq g 



354 



GK3fS OF THE BOG. 



in the Intelligence-office, whither Nan cscortod 
thorn on the third day after their arrival, in 
search of nnrsc places. Sncli neat, pretty and 
modest little maidens were not met wiih every 
day in that place. 

Here they attracted at once the attention of a 
fmc-looking lady who was looking for two girls 
to act as child's maids for herself and sister, 
living door by door. 

" What church do you attend ? " was ono of 
the questions she put to them. 

" We're Protestants, ma'am," replied Bessie. 
*' It was U) l||(» I'feshytoJ'iiijj church we went at 
home." 

" liut It's Outholics they'll bo in this coun- 
try, ma'am," oxcliiinied Nan, looking resolute- 
ly, ulmost defiantly, at the lady. 

Bessie turned pale, hut collecting herself in 
a moment, she loi/ked imploiiiif^ly into the kind 
face before he-, and said, in tremuhiUH tones, 
" I four Oni'., dear lady, and Fd never deny my 
faith. Wo are Protestants, like the dear onoa 
who taught UH to love and trust Ilim only. If 
you'll look no farther, but take us two witii 



tu rn II iM iW ln * i.' iw< # «lll 



MM 



NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 



355 



Nau escorted 
ir arrival, in 
xt, pretty and 
et wiili every 

attcutiou of a 

for two girls 

[If and sister, 

" was one of 

« 

cplicd Bessie. 
;li we went at 

in this conn- 
king rosolutc- 

ing liorscir in 
into the kind 
inulouH tones, 
ever deny my 
tlio deiu- ones 
lini only. If 
us two willi 



you, you'll never repent it, for we'll be faith- 
ful, and the Lord will bless ^ou for havjng pity 
on us." 

This was strange talk in a place where ser- 
vants wore questioning ladies, and making 
terms for them to accept. Tlie lady was 
charmed with their [)lcasant manners, and with 
their artless expressions of trust in God, and 
slio announced to the person wlio kept the 
olTicc that her choice was made. 

" Hnt, ma'am," cried Nan, following her to 
the desk, " ye can't have ather of them unliss 
their wages be paid to mysilf. I'll puffer them 
to have lialf o't tlicn, and the other half will 
go to support their poor widdy mother." 

" But, my good woman," said the lady, 
" you look stronger than either of them. Why 
not take a place and support yourself? " 

" Och, dear lady, I'm a lone widdy, don't ye 
sec? The Widdy Hl.eelian." 

" I know no reason why widows should not 
labor as well as other women, if they have 
sirength to do it," said the lady, who was as 
resolute as herself. 



•3^... 



W iwt nowi i 



"^flS??" 



^ 



iwi 



m 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



" Will, will, I must git a bit over tho sea- 
feclin', and hunt two or thrco cousins first," 
replied Nan ; " and now if ye'll only take them 
off my hands at once, I'll sind tlicir box after 
them, and visit them once a week — small 
consolation -" and shaking all three cordially 
by tho hand, she saw them walk off together, 
and then seated herself to make new acquain- 
tances. 

Mrs. Maxwell and her sister were charmed 
with their neat little nurses who were capalAe 
and patient at their work, and who never lost 
an opportunity to teach or sing some, useful 
lesson to their little charges, of whom they 
soon became very fond. 

On her second motherly visit, Bessie being in 
the park with tho children. Nan was admitted 
into Mrs. Maxwell's sitting-room, where she at 
once began relating her life's trials to the lady. 
" Och, lady dear, it's a i'oarrul thing for a 
woman to come down from f;nat prosperity, as 
mysilf have done. If yo ^'onld know my fate, j 
yo'd cry tho full o' yor two hands o' tears. I ! 
had a lovely cottage with a larm to't, and 






over tlio sea- 
cousius first," 
)uly take them 
ihcir box after 

week — small 
three cordially 
Ik off together, 
3 new acquaiu- 

• were charmed 
10 were capal)lo 

who never lost 
ig some useful 

of whom they 

Bessie being in 
111 was admitted 
m, where she at 
•ials to the lady. 
rFul thing for a 
at prosperity, as 
d know ray fate, 
iiids o" tears. I 
I farm to't, and 



NEW nOMES IX TIIK NEW WORLD. 357 

cows, and pigs, and a donkey, and ducks, and 
goose, and bins, and a shilf full o' red and 
green delf ware, and feather bids, and a row 
o' milkpans as would reach from here to where 
our ship lauded," — a distance of about four 
miles. "And och, my heart! the husband I 
had ! He was the ilegiutest man in all thim 
parts. He was high and stout, and had the 
finest leg for a long stocking in all the 
country. Och, but he was the man for a 
beauty ! " 

" And how long has ho been dead ? " asked 
Mrs. Maxwell. 

" Dead ? Indado, ma'am, it's not dead at all 
tliat he is," cried Nan, intent only on making 
out a good story. 

♦' But you told mo you were a widow," said 
the lady. 

Nan's memory had failed her for a moment, 
liiit, kIio was not one to give up her point. 
" So lie is dead to me, dear," she sobbed out, 
'• liut he's live enough to the rest o' the world. 
And if a woman wears wades for a man that's 
gone peaceable into his grave, much more mo 



"rm tnim^yAmx'lX^;: 



358 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



that's lost mine a worse way." And moving 
her chair close to Mrs. Maxwell, she whis- 
pered, confidentially, " lie turned mo out o' 
doors, dear, and ray lovely childer, and there's 
an evil woman now enjoyin' all my good 
things, — my farm, and my iligaut cups and 
saucers, and nine skeins o' grey yarn I spun, 
and — and — and my liusland." 

" But your daughters speak "^ery tenderly 
of their father, and tell mo how ho used to 
pray for them," said tl»e lady. 

" Och, dear heart," cried Nan, " they liko 
1 im hecausc there's much of his evil natur in 
thirasclves. Didn't ye see how mane they 
^rero, not wantiu' mo to have all their 
wages ? " 

" They ought not to givo you even half," 
said the lady. *' I shall insist on their keeping 
moat of their wages, and you must go to work 
yourself." 

*' Och," cried Nan, " and what do you think 
I camo hero for ? I could live hy work at 
homo. I had a father's house full of plinty, 
and would niver ha' left it onlr that thoso two 



*-,,,,, -. 



CS^I«-(«r.-lM«*** 



»**-• » :]j'i i j « w l w i Bt» 



■m 



KEW HOMES IN Tim NEW WORLD. 



859 



Lnd moving 
[, she whis- 
[ mo out o' 
, and there's 
11 my good 
it cups and 
irarn I spun, 

sry tenderly 
ho used to 

, " they like 

5vil natur in 

mane they 

all their 

even half," 
heir keeping 
t go to work 

do you think 

by work at 

ill ofplinty, 

at thoso two 



evil-minded girls ran off and hid in the ship, 
and I liad to follow to save thim from destruc- 
tion intirely ; " and the virtuous creature drew 
a heavy sigh. 

" Well, I advise you to go to work, and 
come once in a month or so to visit them," said 
Mis. Maxwell. 

" Ojice a month, is it ? " cried Nan, ris- 
ing ; " indado they'll not 'bide where I can't 
come in and out when I plazes, and call for 
money, too ! " And dashing out of the room, 
slio sUmmed tlio door behind her in a way 
that told poorly for her gentle blood. 

Tliat evening, after the little ones were 
asleep, BIrs. Maxwell, as was her cilstom, went 
into the nursery to seo that all was right, and 
there she found her little nurse in tears. 

" Wliy, Bessie, what's tho matter, child ? " 
she asked. 

" O, ma'am," cried tho girl, " there's a 
heavy trouble lying on my heart, and I'm 
afraid I'll die in this strango laud, and leave 
my darliu' sister alone." 



*, 
u 



-'sm>m!3ms^T^gg^r 



mmmm 



seo 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



" Bessie, I'm sure there's something wrong 
between you and your motlier, and I insist on 
knowing what it is ; I will protect you, if you 
are doing right," said the lady, kindly. 

*' 0, ma'am, when we were in the park, she 
followed us and bid us both leave our places, 
and when I refused, she struck me before all 
the nurses and the children. Oh please give 
her all the wages if she but let us 'bide with 
you till our father find us, — the darlin' man ! 
This is just the hour he'll be prayin' for us. 
And our mammy too will be singin' — oh no, 
she'll never sing more till she finds us • — I'm 
sure o' that." 

" Bessie, is this woman your mother ? " 
asked Mrs. Maxwell. " She neither speaks 
nor acts as if she had brought you up." 

" Oh, ma'am, she said if I'd tell one word 
about it, she'd put us both in a nunneiy where 
our father would never find us ! She never 
brought us up — you see, ma'am, we do not 
speak Irish, like that." 

" You are in safe hands, my child," said 



1 



■f»J«>'B"*!*''^'J' ■.'-'fr^ 



..^ ^^t f f m ' iJ ^ '^om-.^ixm s aiimm i mm - 



otliing wrong 
ind I insist on 
ct you, if you 
indly. 

tlio park, sho 
ve our places, 
mo before all 
)h please give 
; us 'bide with 
darlin' man! 
rayin' for us. 
igin' — oh no, 
inds us ■: — I'm 

ur mother ? " 
leither speaks 
1 up." 

tell one word 
lunneiy where 
I ! She never 
m, we do not 



NEW HOMES 17 THE XEW WOULD. 3G1 

Mrs. Maxwell, will* tears in her eyes. " Tell 
mo the wliolo story, and Mr. Maxwell will pro- 
tect you as if you were liis own." 

Thus encouraged, Bessie told all she knew 
of herself and the Sheehans, and the little sho 
knew of the woman who professed to be their 
mother. 

Mr. Maxwell at once wrote to Mr. Murray, 
assuring him that God had sent these good 
ciiildren to friends who would guard them well 
till their father came or sent for them. 

When Nan called again, Mrs. Maxwell re- 
fused to see her, telling her that her husband 
was now the protector of the girls, and would 
take care of them till their father's arrival. 

While waiting for a reply to the letter, Mrs. 
Maxwell and her sister did all they could to 
encourage and comfort the little exiles, who 
found it possible to be happy oven under such 
painful circumstances. 



r child," said 



n/mmmsmr- 



'i*^'j- m^im^ t u.9i im * ' ^ 'w 



m^ma-momi^mU: 






CHAPTER XXXII. 
paddy's wisdom. 

PEGGY'S love for the cliildreu whom God 
had placed in her care, was truly a mo- 
ther's love ; and none but a mother can im- 
agine tlie anguish which at times filled her 
soul while John was busy settling his af- 
fairs to follow them. But scarcely did that 
anguish come, before the "great peace" 
would roll over her spirit, and she would see 
her darlings, not with her enemy, but in the 
hand and under the wing of the orphan's God. 
She applied herself to her work and to her 
religious duties with a calm and cheerful spir- 
it, wliich those only know whose hearts are 
fixed on God, and who have entered into au 
everlasting covenant with Him. 

The knitting and the singing went on as 
usual at the sunset hour ; but her guests were 



mm 



PADDY'S WISDOM. 



3G3 



1 whom God 
I truly a mo- 
ther can i ra- 
tes filled her 
tliiig his af- 
cely did that 
;reat peace " 
iho would see 
ly, but ill the 
jrphau's God. 

• 

c and to her 

cheerful spir- 

30 hearts are 

tered iuto au 

; went on as 
r guests were 

362 



leaving one by one, as their ftxmilies dcscrtod 
tlioir miserable homes for better ones over tlio 
sou. Ilor work was going before her, and 
thoreforo sha felt less reluctance at leaving 
Ireland tlian if her field were growing about 
her. • 

As the preparations were going on, John 
suid, « And now, my jewel, I must spake to 
ye o' tlie Maid o' Longford. I suppose ye 
couldn't sell her ? " 

"No more than I could sell one 'o my 
ohildren," cried Peggy. "She's more tlian 
just a good cow to me ; she was the kind 
gift o' the darlin' mother, and has always 
seemed one o' ourselves. When I was in sor- 
row, her eyes always looked sad aii if she had 
the power o' pityin' me ; and she loved me, 
too. Siie's not young, the poor dear, more 
than ourselves, but she'll be useful several 
years yet. So I've resolved to give hor to Mr. 
Murray; and should his family die, or follow 
us over the sea, to have her left for the nest 
minister that takes his place, and always to 
'bide on that land." 



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364 



GEMS OF THE DOa. 



" That's wise indado ! " cried John. " Elder 
Peter will buy Silvcrhoni, and will bo as tinder 
o' her as I have beon." 

" I hope thin he'll not fade hor on granite 
or marble ! " exclaimed Paddy, who had just 
entered the cottage. "I believe that's what 
he ates himsilf and that gives him yon stony 
look." 

"And now tnat we're on the priparations, 
Paddy," said his mistress, " I beg ye not to 
take thim clothes o' the old masther's to 
America. The people that know ye laugh 
at ye and no more ; but in America, where 
nono wears short clothes, they'll think ye'ro au 
idiot. Go to the workhouse and give thim 
to old Diunis. Tlioy'U fit him, and kape him 
warm many a winter if ho nades them." 

" Och ! but what fine thoughts are always 
comin' into yor hoad and out o' yer mouth, 
darlin' ! " exclaimed Paddy. " And won't the 
old man dance, spite o' his rheumatics, whiu 
he sees himsilf in thim fine clothes!" and 
springing up the ladder that led to hi« loft, 
Paddy tied the clothes up iu a bundle and de- 



i-fc MiifiTriV-"-* 



d John. " Elder 
I will bo as tindor 

lo her on granite 
dy, who had just 
liovo that's what 
es him yon stony 

the priparations, 
I beg ye not to 
>ld masther's to 

know yo laugh 
I America, where 
r'll think ye're an 
9 and give thim 
im, and kape him 
ies them." 
aghts are always 
lit o' yer mouth, 

" And won't the 
rheumatics, whiu 
e clothes!" and 
, led to \m loft, 
a bundle aud de- 



y-. 



PADDY'S WISDOSr. 

parted, much to the relief of Peggy, who had' 
feared strong resistance on his part. Wo are 
Bocry to say, however, that he wont no farther 
than t!io cow-house, where ho stowed ihe bun- 
dle away among his treasures in a 
chest ; " and then sat down long enough to go 
to the workhouse aud back again, that his mis- 
tress might think he had been off on the benevo- 
lent errand. Then he went into the cottage 
for a good supper. 

On the evening before their departure, the cot- 
tage was filled with weeping neighbors, nearly 
all of whom were cither too poor or too old to 
emigrate. While Peggy, in gentle tones, was 
giving them her parting advice ani blessing, 
Master Timmy walked in, radiant with excite- 
ment, y- ''■■'' — . ■''■•.-'■:.■''• ■ - '-<■ i "•':■• 

"The battle's won without blood, Misther 
Shechan ! " he cried. I' got twenty pounds o' 
money, and the free consint o' the Elder to oo- 
company yo. When he saw I would go, he 
gave consint to save me from the sin o' disobe- 
dience, the dear man ; aud he'll soon follow ; 
for nather he nor the loviii' mother will brathe 




feii 




366 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



long out o' sight o' me. I'll show tliem what 
a strong arm can do when it has a chance to 
work. I'll just put myself to the granite, — 
that's the fine material to lay out a lad's mus- 
cle on. It would : a' been fine, indeed, if I, 
after I'd stirred up half the lads between here 
and Limerick to go to America, had been forced 
to 'bide in the chimney-corner myself." 

Paddy was leaning on his elbow, looking out 
of the casement, in rather a pensive mood for 
him. He thought these remarks of Timmy's 
rather personal ; so, turning round abruptly ho 
said, " Plio, yer nonsinse, lad ! Ye talk like 
the small child ye are ! The arth, and the arth 
alone, are the fine material for a man to spind 
his stringth on." 

« I disagree with you, old fellow," said Tim- 
my. " Granite is harder, and so is a nobler 
work than the arth. Sure ony maid can hoo 
potatoes, if she but have good health and com- 
mon sinse ; but put the best o' thim on a huga 
block o' granite, and bid her hew out a monu- 
ment or an ornamental gate-post, and see what 
work she'll make on't! Sotting the maids 



:.■:*.• : 



ihow tliem what 
lias a clianco to 
the grauito, — 
lut a lad's raus- 
iie, indeed, if I, 
ds between hero 
had been forced 
myself." 

bow, looking out 
3nsive mood for 
irks of TiraiPf 's 
)und abruptly ho 
1 ! Yo talk liko 
■th, and the arth 
r a man to spind 

3II0W," said Tim- 
d so is a nobler 
ly maid can hoc 

health and cora- 
' thim on a huga 

hew out a monu- 
ost, and see what 
itting the maids 



PADDY' 8 WISDOM. 

aside, ye can put an idiot on his knees, and 
lie can pull weeds as well as a giant or a col- 
lege-lamed man ; but set him to liewing the 
crowned falcon — the coat-o'-arms on the new 
door for the Harplcy tomb, — and see what a 
fine work he'll make on't ! " 

" And so would Elder Pctor made as fine work 
on't as the poor fool, afore he'd larned," replied 
Paddy. " Ah Timmy, lad, the arth la the mO' 
terial for an honest man to delve in!" 

"The arth's filthy," said Timmy, to draw 
Paddy out ; " a man can never wrirk in it 
witjjout defiling himself; but the stone is as 
pure as the sky above us, Paddy." 

"List to me, lad. The good God knows 
which is the finest thing for man, surely; 
and the dear, dead Misthross used to read to us 
that when lie made his first man, and had 
ivory thing afore him to sclict from, didn't he 
pass by the stones, the jewels, and the gold 
and the silver and tho tin, and mal i him a fino 
garden, and put him into it to till it and to 
dress it? That same showed, as Mammy Hon- 
ey said, what Him as made the world thought 




nm 




f 



T 



866 



OEMS OF TBE BOO. 



— that farmin's the noblest work at all ; and 
while I'm doui' what the grand jintleman 
Adam did with his own hands — him that 
owned the whole world for his farm — I'll feel 
quite honored. And yor Protestant Bible tells 
too, aboot a man that wint out to sow, and 
about a husbandman that bad a vineyard ; but 
will ye show me the place where's mintioned 
a man that stood ho.ckin' away at a gravestone 
or a gate-post ? Yo'll not fiud it at all." 

Timmy was a little crest-fallen by Paddy's 
reasoning, but laughed it oflfby saying, " Paddy, 
the church was cljated when ye were put on a 
farm to work. Ye should be aither a priest or 
a parson, with all the tine thoughts ye have. 
Wliat war ye thinkiu' so grave about when I 
came in, with yor head out o' the casement, 
and yor eyes lookm' up at the clouds ? " 

" Well, Timmy, lad, it war fuio thoughts I 
had ontirely yon time ! I war lookin' at the 
moon, and thinkiu' how ueglected-like she 
war, and how light sot by o' most people. 
Hapos thinks a dale o' the sun, bekase he 
stares so fierce down on us, and makes such a 



.rtj'.ii-S...iii SiVi' 



~..p^ - 



*w 



fk at all ; and 
and jintleman 
Is — him that 
ima — I'll feel 
tant Bible tells 
t to sow, and 
vineyard ; but 
re's mintioned 
it a gravestone 
,t all." 

en by Paddy's 
yiiig, " Paddy, 

wore put on a 
ther a priest or 
ghts ye have. 

about when I 

the casement, 
3uds ? " 
ue thoughts I 
lookin' at tho 
ectod-like sho 

most people, 
un, bokase he 

makes such a 



PADDY'S WISDOM. 



369 



show o' himsilf. And bekase tho moon only 
throws a kind smile on us, they think little o' 
her. But I'll till ye what I think, — it's a com- 
parison like ; the sun is like frinds that's 
very lovin' and helpful whin we don't nade 
them. He shines in the daylight whin we 
could jest get along quite fine witliout him. 
But the dear little moon, she's like a friend 
in nade ; she shines when all's dark, whin but 
for her we'd wander astray, or fall down into a 
ditch and break our head. So away with yer 
sun, that only gives light whin we've enough 
without him ; and up with tho moon that's 
saved many a fine life ! " 

" But Paddy, man," cried Timmy, " there'd 
be no light at all in the moon, but only for the 
sun. The astronomers say the moon gits her 
light from the sun." 

" Then they lies," cried Paddy. " Don't ye 
think I've as many eyes as these 'stronomies 
has ? And can't I see that tho sun's no where 
about to be givin' her light? lie's gouo on- 
tirely out o' tho way afore the moon rises at 
all! It's a great trick wise men has got 

34 




-■-,!sxS5|n| 




370 



??^!SP?fi?H^^S!?r' 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



o' these cla>s, tcUiu' such stufif and thiukia' 
they'll make onlarned folks bclavo 'em agin 
their wits ; but I'm uot one o' the fools that'll 
do it. I'll bclave me own, eyes and me own 
sinses afore I'll belavo Mr. Murray himself, — 
'dado I will. One o' his boys was foolin' mo 

* 

as wo walked home together from the post- 
' office, one night, by tellin' me that some o' the 
Btars In) pointed out was made o' dippers ; — 
as if he thought I was fool enough to belave 
him ! Dippers, indade ! " 



♦ ' , 



and thiiikin' 
avo 'em agin 
le fools that'll 
1 and me own 
ray himself, — 
v^as foolin' mo 
from the post- 
lat some o' the 

o' dippers ; — 
ugh to belavo 

,- .:.^-.:^- ::'::.; ?«»: 



: *ft- 



CHAPTER XXXm. 



A JOYFUL MEETING. 




IT was a bright day in the early autumn, and 
the trees, in hues of gorgeous beauty, made 
the park a scene of gladness to the eye weary 
of the tame sights of every-day life. Nature 
and the little children were out on a holiday 
together. 

As the young Sheehan girls drew their baby 
charges slowly along under a row of bright 
elms, they noticed, in a corner, a group of 
poor-looking people, who seemed to be trying 
to hide, one behind the other, from the obser- 
vation they were attracting^ 

"Look at yon poor things, Marion," said 
Bessie. " I'm sure tliey're new off the sliip, 
and are suffering from the sport the lads are 
making of their old-fashionod Irish clothes. 
Let's cross this path, and give them a hand and 

371 



I 



372 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



a kind word. Maybe some o' thein are homc< 
less and friendless. And it may be a long day 
before they find such friends as God raised up 
fortis at the very first. Pcriiaps there's no 
pure hearts at home prayin' for them, either." 

And the little nurses drew their baby-car- 
riages towards the forlorn-looking group. 

. " You've just come over, poor thing," said 
Bessie, k'ndly, to the one woman of the party. 
" What part o' poor Ireland are you from ? " 

" Coonty Kirry, me and <Ae«e," she replied, 
pointing to three rough-looking fellows on the 
bench beside her. " Thim two is from Clare, 
and yon man with his back to us, — him iu 
the breeches and the huge coat, tyin' up his 
brogues, he's from Limerick or some other 
place." 

The girls naturally looked at "yon man," 
who was "tyin' his brogues," when in an 
instant Marion dropped the tongue of her wag- 
on, and rushing towards him, screamed out, 
"0, Paddy Mannon, this can never be you, 
you darlin' old man ! " And forgetting that 
there was any one else in the park, the child 






A JOYFUL MEETINQ. 



873 



n are home* 
)0 a long day 
ad raised up 
)S there's no 
em, either." 
eir baby-car- 
group, 
thing," said 
of the party. 
II from ? " 

she replied, 
Hows on the 

from Clare, 
18, — him iu 
tyiii' up his 

some other 

* yon man," 
when in an 
I of her wag- 
reamed out, 
sver be you, 
rgetting that 
[-k, the child 



threw her arms round the neck of the rough 
old emigrant, and wept aloud for joy. Bessie, 
too, put her arms about liiru and kissed him, 
and called him " a darliu', kind old creatur'," 
and clapped her hands and laughed for joy, all 
unconscious, for the moment, of the crowd of 
idlers they wore attracting. 

" And wlicre are mammy, and father, and 
all who- came with ye ? And will ye take us to 
them now ? And how long were ye on Mie 
sea ? " These and many other questions chased 
each other from their lips before the overjoyed 
Paddy could get an opportunity to tell them 
that Peggy was " watching the boxes " while 
he and John were off searching for th«m. 

«'Ye see, my darlin's, yer father had the 
paper with Misther Mixwill's place wrote on 
it, so I had to trust my mimory. That failed 
me, and I've been hours sarchin' could I find 
ye. If I rung at one door, I rung at tin-thou- 
sand, kapin' these poor people on the shide- 
walk, o' course, — not to be lettin' thimwalk 
up jintlemen's steps, — and yet not a body in 



\-r,m^miiiiisimiitmm 



t iE ^ 









t- 



874 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



all Ameriky seemed over to ha' heerd o' yer 
comiii' at al'.." 

"And wl.o are these witli you, Paddy?" 
asked Bessie. , 

"Och, dear, they're poor innocent things 
that come over in the ship with us ; and as 
they were quite ignorant o' the ways of a 
strange country, I was civil enough to take 
thim round with me to show thim tjie fiue 
sights, poor things ! " 

" But O, Paddy, why did mammy ever let 
you bring those fearful lookiu' clothes with 
ye ? " asked Bessie. . 

"She don't know I have them on at all, 
dear, but thinks old Dinnis is jist now orna- 
minted with them at the work-house! How 
could I iver come to a strange place, jist like 
any common laborin' man ? I resolved thesy 
should see for once that I had fine clothes, and 
that a respictable man bewilled thim to me, if 
I uiver wore thim again ; and I think I niver 
will, ather, for the lads is hootin' and howlin' 
after me at ivery turn o' the road." 



tfc 



heerd o' yer 

u, Paddy?" 

>cent things 

us ; and as 

ways of a 

igh to take 

im tlie fiue 

ny ever let 
clothes with 

1 on at all, 
: now orna- 
)use ! How 
ce, jist like 
solved they 
slothes, and 
m to me, if 
link I niver 
nd howliu' 



A JOYFUL MEETING. 



875 



«' Haste back, Paddy," said Marion, " and 
tell father and mammy that America's the 
loveliest land on the whole arth ; and that the 
people, all that we've seen yet, are just angels. 
Don't stop to walk, dear man, but go on to 
yonder broad street, and there take a car to 
your left, and pay sixpence each, and it will 
land ye safe at the placis you're stopping in." 

So Paddy stirred up his weary party, and 
dragging his wooden-soled brogues along, lum- 
bered up the gravel walk, followed by his un- 
couth shipmates, who evidently regarded him 
as a man " born for a leader." 

But the girls were not done with him yet ; 
and Marion, after feasting her homesick eyes 
on his awkward figure for a moment, called 
out, " Paddy, I'nv so thankful you're all safe ' 
in this dear country ; you won't have to work 
so hard here for stirabout and herring." 

Paddy walked back towards them, wiping 
away his tears with the sleeve of hit coat. 
"Dears," he said mournfully, "I used to 
think Ameriky all the hiven I'd iver ask for, 
but now Pm here, the heart is as heavy and 






i! I 






376 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



cold as a stone in my brist. I've lefl the 
bones o' Meg and little Pat — him as war 
Johnny Shoehan — behind me alone. When I 
was there I use to go and sit down by their 
cold bed and mend my clothes and talk to 
thim ; but I can uiver do that in this fine 
place." ,^ ,, 

" Padvly," said Bessie, " I haven't asked you 
how ye left all the friends in Killyrooke and 
Cloynmally, — Mr. Murray's family, and — and 
— and Eider Peter, too ; I hope he was well ? " 

" All's well, dear, and partic'lar the Elder. 
He'e thrivin' tine on the stones he ates, 
atid growin' every flay harder and grayer," 
answered Paddy, smiling through his tears. 

" And Timmy, I hope he's obedient, and 
will 'bide his father's will about leaving 
home?" 

Paddy dropped his head mournfully, and 
made no reply. 

" There was nothing wrong there, surely ? 
Timmy was living when you loft ? " she asked, 
in surprise at Paddy's manner. 

" Well, dear child," cried Faddy, " ho wa$ 



H 



've left the 
litn as war 
le. When I 
>wn by their 
and talk to 
iu this fine 

I't asked you 
lyrooke and 
', and — and 
was well ? " 
r the Elder. 
3s he atcs, 
id grayer," 
lis tears, 
edieut, and 
>ut leaving 

nfuUy, and 

>re, surely? 
' she asked, 

y, '<ho wa$ 



A JOTFUL MEETINO. 



877 



living when we sailed ; but Timmy will never 
cross the sea to America." 

" VfnAJmt living and that was all? " asked 
Bessie. " What ailed my poor old playmate, 
Paddy ? " 

Paddy put his handkerchief to his eyes, and 
turned his back on her, saying, " Now don't 
break my heart with quistions, darliu' ; whin 
ye come to us your mammy will revalo it all 
to ye." 

Bessie wanted to hear no more ; so she said, 
*' Go, now, for yer friends are weary waiting, 
and we'll find you before many hours." 

Paddy's grief suddenly gave way to gladness,* 
and he exclaimed, " Och, but I forgot to tell ye 
that I found a kin o' mine ou the ship — one 
Teddy Flask." 

" Who is he ? I never hoard of him," said 
Bessie. ■':'*.-■" '■z^'^'' ' -"VP^-'" 

" Well, he's ather a cousin to me, or I'm a 
cousin to him, I don't jist mind which," re- 
plied Paddy. *' But tell me where's Nan ? 
My heart's full o' what PU do to her," he 
added. 



373 



OJiVS OF THE BOO. 



" Paddy, go on now, and we'll toll you all at 
night," said Boss io. " Our time has come to 
bo at homo." 

When the little nurses reached Mr. Max> 
well's thoy found their father waiting them. 
Tho joyful moeting was almost as grateful to 
Mrs. Maxwell as to themselves,' for she had 
now heard all their story from John, and was 
prepared to welcome the whole family to her 
heart. «, 

Tho girls went with John to meet their 
beloved mammy, and to *e surprised by the 
pleasant and merry face of Master Timmy, who 
Jiad accompan'.ed them ! 

" Why, Timmy, lad," cried Bessie, « Paddy 
made me believe that you were dead. I was 
afeared to ask my father, lost he'd say you 



were 



»» 



" No Bessie," said Timmy laughing. " I'm 
quite alive I assure ye ! The Elder — dear 
man that he is — finally gave consiut rather 
than suffer me to come without. And the 
darliii' mother pladod that he'd give me all 
the clothes and tools and money I'd nado, and 



3iait^Hvifinyf^'i!*y^n/t^*n-,-^^v ^» m m:m*Mf t i ii ^ tmmvy-'^^vyfr^ ^^^ ■** 



1 yoQ all at 
as come to 

Mr. Max> 
Ltiiig them, 
grateful to 
or she had 
in, and was 
mly to her 

meet their 
ised by the 
rimmy, who 

sie, " Paddy 
ead. I was 
e'd say you 

ling. " I'm 
llder — dear 
isiut rather 
. And the 
give mo all 
d nado, and 



A JOYFUL MEETING. 

send me ofiF with his blessin'. And it'll be 
a short day afore ye'U see them all hero, that's 
if the Elder can lave Mr. Murray behind." 

" But why, then, didn't you come to seek us, 
T immy, and not let Paddy give me yon fearful 
scare ? " asked Bessie. 

"I stayed here to watch the boxes," said 
Tiraray. "Paddy was that taken up with 
the new people and the strange dresses, that he 
couldn't 'bide in at all. He was bid to take off 
his workin' clothes that he'd wore on the sea, and 
put on his Sunday ones ; and what did wo see 
in a short space, but him in ' the oidd masther's 
shute ' that we thought safe in the workhouse, 
goin' off the stops in company with half a 
dozen wild Irishmen he took under his wing 
on the ship, and at his heels a troop o' 
boys. The people about the inn door all 
shouted with laughter, and one man cried, 
* There goes Did Ii-eland and young America, 
hand in hand ! ' Ye'd ha' thought he'd 
known the lads all his life by the tarms they 
tvas on ; he givin' them Irish pennies, and 
shigin' Irish songs to them afore he'd been two 



380 



GEMS OF TUE BOO. 



hours off tlio ship. Ho called tho stupid loons 
ho was ladin' about, * these poor sthrangers in 
a sthrango land,' and said he must put himself 
about getting work and homes for them on tho 
morrow ! Ye'd a thought he'd lived in Amer- 
ica all his life, and had hapes of influence in 
it. There's one thing we've <1pnc f-^r America, 
already; we've brought her o nsa.i tho like o* 
whom, for wisdom and foiij , '1»3 never saw 
before." • v • 



^■11 



itapid loons 
ilirangcrs in 
put himself 
licrn on tho 
3d in Amer- 
influenco in 
-^r America, 
tho like o* 
I never saw 



€ 



CHAPTER XXXIV. * 

, THE OLD FOE AGAIN. 

MR. MAXWELL was so charmed with this 
new development of Irish character, that 
he made places for John and Paddy in his 
warehouse, as porter and teamster. The girls 
cheerfully kept t'lcir situations till, as he 
promised to do, their father should be able to 
send them to school again. 

With aid of the girls, Peggy found rooms 
in a neatly-kept tenement house of the bet- 
ter class, and toon made her humble city 
home shine as brightly as tho cottage in Killy- 
rooke had done ; and her grateful heart was 
gladdened every Sunday evening by seeing tho 
pleasant faces of her children again at her 
table. 

But these " Oems of the Bog " did not sit sel- 
fishly and quietly down to rejoico in their deliv- 

381 



• t 



''^FrwA^^dKiitfwar^ilai 



friwhifirtiiWMimiiiffcliii«i,'ii 



ra 



382 



3EMS OF THE BOO. 



I 



i; 



eraiice'from enemies, and their safe condnct to 
a land flowing witlj milk and honey. They 
looked about at once for work, each one ask- 
ing, " What shall I rer.der unto the Lord for 
all His benefits toward rae ? " 

Peggy soon found neighbors who needed 
help and comfort, and without breathing a 
"Word against their faith, she talked to them of 
that whicli was the joy and the rejoicing of 
her own heart. John, also, by his kind and 
obliging ways made friends among the men, 
both in the store, and in the neighborhood 
where he lived. Believed from ilie pressure 
of his old conviction at home — that all had 
known his sin and therefore regarded him aa a 
hypocrite, — ho began to talk and to labor 
more openly. Peggy, through Mrs. Maxwell's 
aid and encouragement. Opened again her knit- 
ting and singing meetings in the evenings when 
toil was over. The husbands and brothers of 
the women dropped in Uv/W and then for a chat, 
and they too would listen, and sometimes sing. 
Mr. Maxwell, who wa. himself an earnest 
worker iu the same good cause, supplied John 



THE OLD FOE AGAIN. 



I condnct to 
ney. They 
ch one ask- 
lie Lord for 

rho needed 
treatliing a 

to tliem of 
ejoiciug of 
s kind and 
g the men, 
eighborhood 
he pressure 
liat all had 
ed him a» a 
kd to labor 
i. Maxwell's 
an her knit- 
euings when 
1 brothers of 
n foi' a chat, 
letimes sing. 

an earnest 
pplied John 




with books of interest to read and to lend to 
his nciglibors ; and occasionally visited him to 
cheer him on. He was amazed at the power of 
Peggy over the women and girls, and charmed 
by John's humble zeal and his earnest desii-e 
for the souls of his countrymen, whom he re- 
garded as bound in chains of error. He was 
also greatly pleased with John and Paddy as 
faithful laborers in the store, and he felt sure 
that God had work for the humble family iu 
their new home. 

One day, a few weeks after their arrival, as 
the redoubtable Paddy was passing through one 
of the great thoroughfares, he saw a fair-faced 
blind woman who was relating to passers-by, — 
not one of whom stopped to listen, — the story 
of her woes. " For the love o' mercy," she said, 
"give a shilling to a poor blind lady, whose 
husband is just after having his arm imputated, 
and nothing at all in the house to ate." 

Such poverty in America was surprising to 
Paddy, and he stepped up to lay his offering in 
her extended palm. The face of the blind 
woman was too familiar to deceive him, even 



H 



384 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



under the green shade; and he exclaimed, 
" And whin did ye lose ycr eyes, Nan ? " 

" I'm not Nan O'Gorman," she cried, " and I 
niver heard o' Killyrooke in all my life." 

" And who said that was yer name, or yer 
home, I'd ask ? " cried Paddy, liis temper ris- 
ing at her audacity. " I'd inform ye that my 
masther's nare by, and he'll have ye 'rested for 
Stalin' his childer, and ye'll then have a chance 
to see what's a Yankee prison like." 

" Powers o' evil ! " cried Nan, " why did ye 
iver sind Paddy Maunon all the way over the 
sea to torraint me ? Whist, Paddy, and I'll till 
ye a sacret. I've jist turned to this business to 
gather a little money to take me to Cal'forny, 
where they gets high wages for sittiu' still. 
Don't till on me, for I'm 8ore afraid o' yon 
starn Misther Mixwill, who thritened to 'rist 
me ; and I'll promise niver more to go nare 
the Sheelians while I live. Will ye plidge yer 
honor ? " 

« No," said Paddy, " I'll call the drst polish- 
man I see, and get ye put into prison for life." 

And Paddy, in his zeal to expose the impos- 



f 



TEE OLD FOE AGAIN. 



885 



I exclaimed, 
fau ? " 

ried, " and I 
J life." 
lamo, or yer 
I temper ria- 
je tliat mj 
jQ 'rested for 
ave a chance 

' why did ye 
yay over the 
',aud I'll till 
s business to 
to Carforny, 
sittiu' still, 
fraid o' yon 
sned to 'rist 
I to go nare 
jQ plidge yer 

3 first polish- 
son for life." 
lO the impos- 



tor, began to tell her story to some listeners, 
when she darted down the street, turned into 
a narrow alley, and was off for ♦' Cal'forny " or 
some other distant region. 

Paddy liad little idea of the .astuess of the 
city, and thought he could find her at any 
time by going to the street in which she had 
disappeared. So he gathered quite a crowd of 
idlers about him, and discoursed at consider- 
able length on Nan's genealogy, and on the 
fate which liad " well nigh swipt the blood 
o' the race off the face o' the arth entirely." 

His audience became quite interested in 
Nan's history, and Paddy, seeing this, grew 
eloquent, and throwing back his head, gave 
vent to a torrent of" varses." 

" Ooh, lada o' Ameriky ! Oons o' the free I 
I'd like to be makin' a bargain with ye. 
That ye'll jine me in aarchiu this wide city o'er. 
Till we bring Nan O'Gornian a Justice afore. 

*' Nather silver nor gold has poor Paddy to give. 
But he'll love ye tid bliss ye as long as ye live. 
If ye'U help him to clarc her quite off on the tea i 
For he'll niver rest asy in the land where she be ! " 

Of course this and much more of the same 



' *\' 'i^ ia i i l M tla iiM i klm f»^ mlt^r ^ ^ 



I 



? 

' 



. 



I'- 



886 



OEMS or THE BOO. 



style charmed the boys, and many of them fol- 
lowed Paddy when he moved on, asking him 
whore he lived, and if he made poetry for a 
living. 

Paddy was so flattered that ho was tempted 
to tell a lie, and own himself " a varse-maker 
by trade whereby he arned a fine livin', howl- 
in' at funerals and singin' at fairs in the ould 
counthry;" but he said he had changed hia 
business in this city, " and was now tamester 
to Mr. Mixwill, entirely." 

At dinner-time Paddy went home, his face 
radiant with good news. 

"Look, dear," ho said to Peggy, "Pvo fine 
news to tell ye. I've found Nan, and I have 
consorted with a score o' boys to delude her oflf 
to the sea, and if good luck be with us, drown 
her, maybe ! " 

« Paddy, ye shall niver touch a hair o' her 
head. We're raised up beyond her power to 
harm v.s, and I hope the Lord will pity and 
save her," said Peggy. 

" rd be very sorry for that, for it would be 
quite Uiscouragin' entirely if she was trated 



IJiS" 



'^ ..UlJJPilll.J i I II 



THE OLD FOE AOAIIT. 



387 



of them foU 
asking him 
)oetry for a 

raa tempted 
v^arse-maker 
livin', howl- 
in the ould 
changed his 
ow tamester 

ae, his face 

, «rvo fine 
, and I have 
slude her off 
th us, drown 

I hair o' her 
lier power to 
irill pity and 

> it would be 
3 was trated 



V >.i8 



as fine as yersilf in the matter o' religion. 
She's no right to it after all the ill she has 
done us. I'd feel myself quite wronged if she 
got as good trateraent as oursilves," exclaimed 
Paddy. 

" Oh, poor man, it's little we deserves from 
the hand o' the Lord ourselves." said Peggy. 

" Humph ! I'll uiver give in but I desarveg 
a finer heaven nor she ! " 

"Ye detarve no heaven at all, Paddy. If 
any o' us be so happy as to enter ia at last, it 
wiU be o' free grace." 



-*"•! 






CHAPTER XXXV. 



PBOMOTION AND REWARD, 






'* f 

I ■• 

9 ■ 

8 ' 



WHEN the Shechaii family had been abont 
six months in their new home, and all 
was going on well with them, Paddy came in 
to dinner one day, evidently much cast down. 
He pulled his hat over his eyes, — his custom 
when in grief, — and said mournfully, " No 
dinner for me this day, misthress dear." 

" What's gone wrong, Paddy ? " asked 
Peggy. "I hope you've not angered the 
jintlemen at the store ? " 

"No, but they has angered me sore," re- 
plied the poor fellow. " I'm disgraced and 
ruined for iver, and can niver hould up my 
head more in public. They've turned my 
masther into a coal-haver." 

" A coal-haver ? " cried Peggy. 

'' Jist that. All was goin' on will, Misther 



1 '.' 




i -UP"^ ' 



been abont 
[ne, and all 
iy came in 
cast down, 
his custom 
fully, "No 
lar." 

? " asked 
ngered the 

sore," re- 
graced and 
uld up my 
turned my 



ill, Misther 



*: 



PROMOTION AND REWABD. 



389 



Mixwill seemiu' to think there was jist only one 
man in the place ! It war ' Sheehan ' hero and 
' Sheehan ' there, and more nor once I've 
heerd him tellin' jintlemen what a fine religious 
family we war — 'specially himself and ye. 

"Will, to-day, when the door was full up 
with bales, our minister come stcppin' over 
them with a high man with hair like a hay-mow 
on the top o' his head, and a white nick-cloth, 
as big as a sheet, about his nick. Misther Mix- 
will shuk hands with them very glad-like, and 
bid them into the coontin'-room, and in five 
minutes more he opened the door and called 
in my masther, who was histin' bales. 

" I made an errand by the place, and put my 
ear to the window, — not at all with a view o' 
listenin', for I'm too uunerable a man for that 
like maneness, — and heerd them ask my 
masther many questions, and thin say, * by the 
will, thin, o' Misther Mixwill ye'U be no more 
in this store, but be our coal-haver.' 

*' My masther niver lifted his tongue agin it ; 
but he was very solemn whin he came out from 
the grand folk. I doubt but the old story has 






m 



GEMS OF THE BOQ. 



I 

ft 



followed us to Ameriky, and will Imnt us till 
we hides ill the grave. Och, och, why iver did 
I lave my own peaceful grave in Ireland, aud 
come here to bo buried in a strange mau'a 

grave ? " 

When John came in, aud "the lad" was 
gone, Peggy said, with a smile, " Paddy say* 
yo are tarned out o' yer place, and made a 
coal haver, dear." 

«A ooal haver!" cried John. "The sim- 
pie fellow has been listening to tlie talk o' two 
gentlemen witli Mr. Maxwell about me. It 
Boem^ darlin', that the hearts of acme o' the 
Lord's people here is stirred up to make known 
the Gospel to them that will nather go to His 
house nor read His Word. And they have 
bound thimseWes into a society like for that 
end, and pay men (not ministers) to go from 
house to house among the poor and the sinful, 
readin' and talkiii' to all that will listen. 
They had heard through Mr. Maxwell o' ouv 
poor efforts among our neighbors, and came to 
see would he let me off to bo a worker for 
them -a 'colporter,' as they calls it. And 



^ -» 



il hunt us till 
., why iver did 
1 Ireland, and 
strange man's 

the lad" was 
, " Paddy say* 
and made a 

1. "The sim- 
he talk o' two 
about me. It 
of some o' the 
to make knowa 
ather go to His 
ind they have 
y like for that 
lers) to go from 
and the sinful, 
lat will listen. 
Maxwell o' ouv 
irs, and came to 
a worker for 
y calls it. And 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 891 

tliat'B sure the very word Paddy got hold on ; 
he thought a colporter was a coal-haver, poor 

lad." 

"And what did ye say to them, dear? 
asked Peggy, with real pleasure in her eye. 
« I said I'd consult ye, and if ye'd think mo 
worthy, I'd begin at once. I really belave, 
darlin', timt Pve been doin' a sort o' pinance 
by keepin' my sin always afore my mind, when 
that sin was forgiven and to be remembered 
no more agin me for ever. Och, Peggy, if 
our own righteousness is nothing to live on, 
what can our sins be? Pm going to strive 
hinceforth to think only on the love aUd the 
marcy that has washed them all away." 

Paddy's only remark, when ho heard of this 
change of work, was, " And sure, thin, he'll be 
a sort o' a minister, and wear a fine white 
nickcloth like Mr. Murray. Why couldn't 
Mammy Honey ha' lived to see this day ? " 

Timmy secured work at once in a granite- 
yard, where he had need of all his strength; 
and « being fine at the pen and the figures," 
ho made himself very useful among the lads 



■mMimmMMMMM 



■ 



I 



892 



OEMS OF THE BOO. 



wliora John go,tliorcd into his kitchon in the 
evening to listen to reading and to be kept out 
of mischief. Paddy aided grcotiy in the work 
by forming acquaintances among the young 
men and boys, whom he decoyed into the 
«' tachiu's " by promises of " fine stories about 
Ireland," if they would stay till the clock 
struck nine. He would redeem his word 
by tales of witches and ghosts, of ball-playing 
and quoit-pitching, till John was ready for his 
reading and Peggy for the singing. They 
would remain, and frequently return without a 
repetition of Paddy's pious fraud, which was 
known only to himself and them. 

On Sunday evenings, when the girls were 
always at home, the room was generally full of 
listeners to the sweet singi-.ig ; and scores tlnis 
heard of the love and pity of the Saviour, who 
would not have dared to listen to a sermon or 
a prayer outside their own church. 

One day Paddy came in •after one of his 
missionary eftorts, and pulling his hat over his 
eyes, said, " Misthress darlin, there come a 
very troubliug thought into my head when I 



i 



...-ai^^^gw 



PSOMOTION AND REWARD. 



393 



slion in the 
bo kept out 
in the work 

the young 
ed into the 
stories about 
I the clock 
n his word 

ball-playing 
■cady for his 
;ing. They 
irn without a 
1, which was 

girls were 
icrally full of 
d scores thus 
Saviour, who 
a sermon or 

r one of his 

hat over his 

here come a 

head when I 



was strivin' to drag in these wild lads to hear 
the singin' and the readin'." 
"What was that, Paddy?" asked Peggy 

kindly. ^ 

« Will, thin, I thought, here's me takin all 
this pains to get other ones to plaze God, and 
thinkin' very little about doin' it mysilf, or 
gittin' my own soul saved. Times gone I was 
asy, becaso I thought, bein' a Catholic, Pd push 
into heaven among the crowd, few o' whom 
war as good as mysilf. And since Pve turned 
Protestant I've trusted that I'd git in for bein» 
in such fine company. And jist now Pm 
thinkin' I'll not be let in at all, at all. If I'll 
not be saved for yer goodness, nor yet for the 
dear misthress, sure I'll not be let in for my 
own,- becase why ? Bocase I hasn't any." 

« Pm glad, my dear man, that ye've found it 
out," cried Peggy, " for Pve regarded ye as 
the self-righteousest cretur' that ever lived on 
the arth. And none will ever receive Christ 
till he's emptied o' silf." 

"Will, thin," cried Paddy, "Pm surprised 
that Pve been let live all this time, hatin' 



IWtfililliiilliiii 



394 



OEMS OF THE BOG. 



J 



ivery body that didn't jist admire us, and 
scornin' all that warn't equally grand. And 
now I look worse to mysilf nor oven Nau. She 
did aa she war tached, and I didn't. And 
what'll I do now ? " 

" Ye'U just havo to do what every other sin- 
ner does, Paddy, before he finds pace ; believe 
what JesuB says, and give yersilf to Him." 
• « I'll do thai, thin," cried Paddy, with tears 
in his eyes, " but it's a mane thing ontirely 
to bring only my grey hair and my failin' 
strength to the Lord, when I might ha' given 
Him my bist years, and I'm jist ashamed to do 

It." 

« And yet, Paddy, all the labor of those ♦ bist 
years ' could not have purchased salvation for 
ye. That is ever a ^ree gift. 

•• • Jesus, Thy blood and rightoousnesi 
My beauty arc, my glorious drew ; 
•Mid flaming worids in these arrayed. 
With joy shall I lift up my head.* " 

" Aye, and will ye may lift up yer head with 
joy, ye that have lived like an angel, with 
niver a hatred in yer heart uor a lie on yer 



J 



ii^i^i^m*' 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 



895 



ire us, and 
rand. And 
1 Nau. She 
idu't. And 

ry other sin- 
ace ; believe 
)Hiiii." 
r, with tears 
ling entirely 
1 my fbiliu' 
lit ha' given 
ihamod to do 

of those * bist 
salvation for 

nesi 

t 

• * 

yor head with 

I angel, with 

a lie on yer 



tongue ! Look at the marcy I've had o' he Lord. 
Such religious larnin', — catechisms and com- 
mandments and psulms and hums bate into me 
from the time I left the workhouse, till this 
hour ! And i'vo laughed at the catechism, and 
broke the commandments, and twisted the holy 
varsea into nousiuse. Mysilf it was, who 
scared the poor fool who disgraced our fine 
funerel, by chasing him near the church yard 
till he fell and was tuk up for dead, none 
knowin' what ailed him! And I it was that 
F«t fire to our inimy's cottage. And oh, the 
lies I've told! It would take seven year to 
confiss them to ye. Only tin days agone I 
lured two rough lads into the night-tachins by 
tellin' that ye closed up by givin' the boys a 
fine supper. Ye mind how yon ones sat long 
after all else war gone ? Will, thin, I beck- 
oned them out, and told them the butcher dis. 
appointed ye in not sending the young pig ye 
war to roast for us ! And didn't I tell the 
darks in Mr. Mixwell's store that ye were 
niver common farmer people at home, but that 
my masther war brother to Harply Hall, and 



liff---'-"""^"-^ 



396 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 



tliiit wc only tuk a freak and came off to 
Amciik) in disguish for a little sport, — the 
way Victoory of England do at times ! 1 told 
thciu we langhcd at the pittance Mr. Mixwill 
gives ns in wages, and often threw it away 
among the boys on our road home, and that I 
war ycr butler in Ireland as my father war be- 
fore me ! Sure I can niver be forgive for all 
that and a thousand evils more." ' 

" 0' course they didn't belave a word on't, 
and laughed at ye for thinkin' they did ; but ye 
must confiss ycr sin, and humble ycrsilf before 
them, and tell them ye've rcpinted and are 
seeking the Lord," said Peggy. 

Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, 
" I used to think if iver I coulu grow rich and 
have tin pounds in the Bank, I ask no greater 
happiness. But now, if I could but be forgive 
and get pace, I niver care if I didn't look on 
another farthin' whilo I lives ! " 

« Paddy," said his mistress, " there's one only 
can give ye pace, poor man, and ye know 
where to find Him. Go to Him and confess 
ycr sin, and ask Him to pity and pardou ye 



''-W«ii..%!J»(.»tf*>^«-'-*'^''''^********^'*"*'' 



L ! J I U,I|J. I ; J f^f^^ - \ , l|' ""1" 



came off to 
sport, — the 
lines! 1 told 
Mr. Mixwill 
•ew it away 
3, and that I 
ither war be- 
rgivc for all 

a word ou't, 
y did ; but ye 
jrersilf before 
ited and aro 

lly, and said, 
row rich and 
k no greater 
ut be forgive 
idu't look on 

lere's one only 
md ye know 
1 and confess 
nd pardou ye 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 897 

for the sake o' His dear Son, who came to 
save the simple as well as the wise." 

« I used to think, dear, that I was wiser nor 
any other one, but now every word I spakes 
sounds like an idiot's," replied Paddy. 

« In the multitude o' words there wanteth 
not sin, dear man," said Peggy; « so the less 
ye talk the less danger ye'll be in o' sinnin'. 
Even the wise King David had to set a double 
watch on his lips lest he might sin with his 
tongue." . ; 

" Mammy Honey once told me my tongue 
gave her great sorrow, and bid me count tin 
every time before I'd spake, so as to have 
space to think what I'd be to say. I'll obey her 
orders aven at this late day, and so strive to 
plasc the Lord. If iver ye hear me boastin', 
rebuke me, dear, for I have a sore longin' to 
bo rid o' evil and to sarve the Lord the small 
space that's lift me here ; for I jist feel I love 
Him so, that Pd lay my life down rather nor 

grieve Him." r 

There was a marked change in poor Paddy 
after this time. Although he kept his merry old 



I ■iiii'""-'fii''ii"'- ••■■■"■■*^"»**' 



398 



GEMS OF THE BOO. 



heart, and still " consorted with boys in placo o» 
mcn";hiscalm and modest demeanor, and hia 
zeal in every work of mercy gave great joy to 
those who had spent so much labor on him. 

At the end of three years, the Shcehans 
were joined in their now home by Elder Peter 
and his wife. The hard nature of the stone- 
cutter had undergone a great change during 
his painful separation from his beloved Tim- 
my ; and the work of softening was carried ou 
still farther by the genial influences which now 
surrounded him in the church to wh-ch he had 
bQcn at once introduced, 

Timmy had grown into a strong and noble 
man, proud of his trade and of his skill at it. 
lie rejoiced tliat « miracles o' money could be 
wrought out o' the hard stone by a strong arm 
and a powerful will ; and the money he thus 
earned was as free as the air to all who needed 
help. Ho had now become a real helper to hia 
friends in every good work. Timmy had not, 
however, overcome " his old wakeness " which 
ho had inherited from some far-ofif ancestor. 
When the Elder saw that he devoted all hia 



- " JUm ii 



s iu placo o* 
nor, and liia 
great joy to 
' on lilin. 
lio Slicelians 
Elder Peter 
if the Btonc- 
ango during 
Kjloved Tim- 
is carried ou 
IS which now 
grhfoh he had 

ig and nohle 
is skill at it. 
tioy conld he 
ft strong arm 
)ney he thus 
I who needed 
helper to his 
imy had not, 
eness " which 
r-off ancestor, 
voted all his 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 399 

leisure time to Bessie, he remarked, "It's 
just as I always prophesied ; he has turned out 
a gallant, or a lover or some such thing." But 
the old man was not annoyed by the fulfilment 
of his words, but, on the contrary, he entered 
into all his sou's plans for the happy future. 
He established himself at once in a stone yard, 
and took Timmy into partnership with him. 
He is now aiding the Sheehans in their good 
work, and laying up a little store wherewith 
Timiny and Bessie may ere long set up anclher 
new home in the New World. 

And here we take leave of these " Gems of 
the Bog," asking, for their sakes, the sympathy 
of the reader, in that class for whom especially 
they labored and prayed. 



-,& 



THB END. 



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