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FORM NO. 609; 7.31.36: SOOM. 



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-if- 




paddy's opinion of his mistress. p. 16. 



GEMS OF THE BOG; 



A TALE OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY. 



BY 



/;j4„ 2 



MRS. JANE D. CHAPLIN. 




PUBLISHED BY THE 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

117 Washington Street, Boston, 

HURD AND UOUGHTON, 13 Astou Plack, N Jr. 

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass. 



[is'e 






5 . t^ Yofx^^lL 



X 



IM^ 



C; ' J- t'i '^. '^'f ij 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S69, by 
JANE DUNBAR CHAPLIN. 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of 
Mas:;;chusetts. 



The principal characters and scenes in the following 
pages are drawn, very nearly, from real life. The story 
was first published as a serial in the " Watchman and 
Reflector." 

J. D. C. 



CONTENTS. 



I. The First Familiks of Killyrooke, 
II. A New JIistress, 

III. Mammy Ho>'ey, 

IV. Paddy Majsxo>', . 
V. A Cloud over Daisy Farm, 

VI. Conflict a>d Victory, 
VTI. Visit to the MI^'rsTER, 
VIII. Singing and Working, 
IX. An Unwelcome Guest, 
X. Famine and Death, . 
XI. A Great Sokeom', 
XII. Homeless, .... 
Xm. Sowing by the Wayside, . 
• XIV. Misery in the Cottage, . 
XV. On the Mount, 
XVI. An Awakened Conscience, 
XVn. Lay-Preaching at the Lough, 
XVm. A Visit op Mercy, 
XIX. Elder Peter, 
XX. Deliverance From Evil, . 
XXI. Paddy Mannon at 3Iiss Grey' 
XXII. A Happy " Home-Bringing," 
XXIII. The New Life at Daisy Farm. 
XXTV. The Enemy again, 



91 
99 
lOG 
121 
135 
145 
154 
162 
177 
186 
197 
209 
219 
234 
253 
267 
279 



4 CONTENTS. 

XXV. A Consecrated Life, 287 

XXVI. Visit from Friend and Foe, . , . . .300 

XXVII. Going to America, 313 

XXVIII. A Painful Parting, 322 

XXIX. Stolen by the Foe, . . . . . . .329 

XXX. Patient in Tribulation, 339 

XXXI. New Homes' in the Xew World, .... 348 

XXXII. Paddy's Wisdom, 362 

XXXIII. A Joyful Meeting, 371 

XXXIV. The Old Foe again, 381 

XXXV. Promotion and Eeavard, 388 



GEMS OE THE BOG. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 

THE picturesque little liamlet of Killyrooke 
consisted of one long row of straw-tliatclied 
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 Killyrooke ; but nature, so 
lavish of her bounties to all beautiful Ireland , 
had not forgotten this remote and quiet nook. 
The green lawns, tlie fields of flax and barley, 
the high old hedges, the bluest and brightest 
of waters, the blackest and richest of bogs had 



6 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

charms unutterable for the hearts of her simple 
children. As the Switzer mourns for his 
mountains, and the Icelander for his snows, 
so they, when exiled, mourn for their native 
bogs. 

The society of Killyrooke, humble as it was, 
boasted of its distinctions as much as did that 
of neighboring towns. The farmer — so called 
— sat upon the pinnacle of the little social 
fabric. He leased a bit of land, and owned a 
donkey, two or three cows, and pigs whose 
name was legion. The next grade were the 
laborers, many of them meriting that name 
only in harvest, living as they did in idleness 
and want most of the year ; while the lowliest 
of all were the professional beggars, who lived 
on the bounty of the gentry and larger farmers 
in the surrounding region, and who made their 
headquarters in Killyrooke, finding shelter in 
dilapidated huts and cow-houses, or with the 
tender-hearted peasants. 

At one end of the long street lay in quiet 
beauty the little " Lough," a heritage of mercy 
to tlie people. Beside its bright waters the 



TEE FIRST FAMILIES OF EILLYROOKE. 7 

ruddy daughters of the hamlet met once a 
week to wash their garments and to gossip 
over affairs of common interest. All day these 
nymphs stood knee deep in the water, splashing 
it about, either in work or play, while their 
plaintive Irish airs, chanted in time with their 
rubbing, and their merry wild laughter, woke 
the echoes from the neighboring hills. The 
washing done, they spread their clothes on the 
bright turf around the " Lough," 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, wliat 
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 in 
Killyrooke. Here the old men bargained for 
donkeys and discussed the probable price of 
potatoes; here the young '^boys" planned 
long tramps to fairs and horse-races, and ex 



8 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

We have said there was an aristocracy in 
this humble Killyrooke. It comprised the 
rival houses of Sheehan and 0' Gorman, and 
arose mainly from the fact that their ancestors 
had more land and better cottages than their 
neighbors, and that 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 be always some drawback 
to its perfect enjoyment. These families had 
for generations been bitter rivals as well as 
equals, and the distinction enjoyed by both 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 

above their neighbors could not atone for the 
heart-burnings and envy on the one hand, and 
the wounded feelings on the other. 

But at the time when our story begins, the 
equality was broken, and the rivalry was 
waning. Sloth liad taken captive the represen- 
tative of the O'Gormans ; while that '' which 
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an 
adder " had bound in its not less ruinous coil 
the wife, Biddy. Thus nine young scions of 
i\\Q> 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 bright girl of seventeen. 

Nan 0' Gorman was very fair, having in 
some way monopolized all the beauty in the 
family. Once in a while the .dying energy of 
her race would suddenly flash up in her breast, 
and for days she would scrub and sweep the 
cottage, wash the children's faces, switch the 
pigs from the 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 or 



10 GEMS OF TEE BOG. 

a sliow, returning in such company and at such 
a time as pleased herself. Meanwhile the little 
ones got a meal, or a crust, or went supperless 
to bed, according 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 were thus falling to 
decay, the Sheehans, who lived across the way, 
still prospered in worldly things, and kept up 
their honor and their name. Prudence and in- 
dustry, long the guardians of their humble 
dwelling, still spread their wings above it ; 
plenty blessed the cottage and the land, and 
none in want were ever sent empty from the 
door. 

There was not, and never had been, one point 
on 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 have been 
Papists since the time when there war darkness 
on the face o' the deep, as mentioned in Scrip- 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF EILLYROOKE 11 

tur ', and the Sheehans have been Protestants 
since the day in which God said, ' Let there be 
light.' " 

But neither of these men, we are sorry to 
say, was a consistent defender of his own faith ; 
for while Pat O'Gorman 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 
hatred of all Popery in his heart, was only a 
self-righteous Pliarisee, walking in the light 
of the fire his own hands had kindled. He 
gloried in his " larning," in his Protestantism, 
in his Scotch descent, in 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. He lacked humility, 
and was in great danger of striking a rock, as 
he sailed on with his eyes shut to the dangers 
around him. He was blind while boasting of 
his clear sight; dead in sin wliile he fancied 
himself a living and active member, to whom 



12 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

Butjfor all this self-deception, John Sheehan 
led a very different life from his neighbor. The 
dormouse-like existence of 0' Gorman we have 
mentioned already. John Sheehan, like his 
ancestors, was noted for his mercy to the poor 
and his strict attention to his own busi- 
ness. It was his proudest boast — and John 
was a proud man — that his ancestors were all 
of his own way of thinking, and that the great- 
great-grandfather back of them all, Hugh Mc- 
Millan, was a Scotch Covenanter ; and that 
while a drop of that holy blood was left in his 
veins he would hate sin and cleave to temper- 
ance and virtue; and that no beggar or outcast 
should be sent hungry from his door ; he would 
feed and shelter Protestants for their own 
sakes, and Catholics for the love of God, who 
made and bears with them. 

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



THE FIRtST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 13 

John's harvests were always the richest in the 
region. His cattle were well fed and housed, 
and treated almost like members of his family. 
Not seldom did he address a restless cow in 
soft tones, saying, " Gently, dear, gently." He 
was the soul of good nature, so that the O'Gor- 
maus had found it much harder keeping up 
enmity 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 the dairy and poultry- 
yard. His aged mother was still regarded as 
head of the family, and treated with a defer- 
ence amounting to veneration. Her husband, 
while 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 brought a young 
mistress to tlie cottage, the good woman found 
herself called " Maminy Honey," by way of 



14 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

distinction from the new Mistress Sheelian, 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 
neighbors. To her was due the peace which 
had cheered the last liours of the old rivals — 
her husband and the father of Pat 0' 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 which had enabled them to sing psalms 
of triumph in the face of their 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 which then moistened the Scottish 
moors. 

For fifty years, since she came a bride to 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE, 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 religioi\, she set her face with Puritanic 
firmness against all which she believed to be 
heresy, so that while serving and watching, as 
had always been her wont, by the sick-bed of 
her neighbors, she had never suffered li«r 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. 

W^lien, arrayed in her brown Sunday gown, 
and cloak of duffle gray, with her broad frilled 
cap bound to her head by a black ribbon, and 



16 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

leaning on John's strong arm, Mammy Honey 
walked erect and firm to the little Presbyte- 
rian church at Cloynmally, she looked like a 
duchess in disguise rather than like the hum- 
ble peasant she 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 he, 
easy soul, sat 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 riverence,' 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 there's not as fine-looking a woman in 
heaven now as herself is — the bet to be paid 
when we gits there and proves it." And Paddy 
winked at his comrades, to impress them with 
his shrewdness, while they laughed and called 



THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 17 

back, '" How comes it, Paddy, that ye 'bides in 
the true church yerself, while ye believe that 
Protestants will enter heaven as well as our- 
selves ? " 

" How is it, indade ? " replied Paddy. " It's 
because I was born in it, and can't throw it 
off like my coat, and I wouldn't if I could, be 
so mane. I'm not plazed with 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 
think I'll pull them out o' my head for that 
same ? Indade, no ! I stands on my honor, I 
does, in this matter o' religion ; and though 
themselves has fed, and clothed, and rared me 
from a starved workhouse-child, TU not throw 
up my religion to plaze them. I'm great on 
conscience, and I'm not the b'y to sell my 
principles for a home, my birthright for a bowl 
o' porridge, as one mean-sperited lad in the 
Scriptur' did ; not I." 

Paddy was a man made u[) of contradictions. 
He was faithful to liie Sheehaus but he was 
so careless of the poor wages he earned that 



18 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

be either gave or threw them away as soon as 
he got them. He had a wife 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 riverence 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." 



CHAPTER II. 

A NEW MISTRESS. 

JOHN Sheebaii had lived maiiy^ years after 
his father's death with no companion but his 
mother and Paddy Mannon. Being of a very 
social nature, he sometimes complained that 
the cottage was "a dale too silent and lone " 
for him: and yet he had reached thirty without 
a thought of marrying. When one suggested 
that 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 
that would bide bein' subject to Mammy 
Honey ? And that every body about me shall 
be, while Heaven spares her — the darling." 

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



}iO GEMS OF THE BOG.* 

to Farmer Doane, a prosperous man in the next 
county. Arrived there, he received a welcome 
both as merchant and as guest, and after 
pocketing his silver, took his place at the long 
deal table, on which smoked the sweet bacon, 
potatoes and cabbage raised on the farm. Here 
bis eye fell on Peggy 0' Canty, a young orphan 
who assisted the good wife in the dairy, and 
whom the worthy couple always addressed as 
" Peggy, jewel." He stole one sly glance at 
her as she poured out the buttermilk at table, 
and another when he left the kitchen to ac- 
company Doane to the cow-house ; 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 he 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 Paddy Mannon off to his bed 



A NEW MISTEESS, 21 

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 he 
had never yet spoken to her ! " And now, 
Mammy Honey," he said, " liero's the way 
open for me to liave company, and for ye to 
have help 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 ye need, and 
not a flighty thing that would be running off to 
fairs and races and leading ye farther off from 
God — which same is iinneedful. Ye must ride 
over to Doane's some day and ask him is the 
girl a Protestant and a Christian, and does she 
mind her duty humbly, as if she felt the 
Masther's eye on her. And more, John, dear, 
ask is she tinder and loving ; for I could niver 
give ye up without getting back love as my 
payment ; for ye are all I have left in the world, 
now ! 0, lad, it's a great thing for a mother 
to give her only son to another woman, and 



22 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

one she niver saw ! But as I have not been a 
selfish mother, no more will I be now ! May 
ten thousand blessings rest on ye both, darling, 
and may I live to see ye happy together." 

John soon " got leave of his mother" — he 
was a man of six feet two, weighing two 
hundred pounds ! — '^ to ask a line of character 
from the minister of Cloynmally to Peggy's 
master, begging 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 be looking after 
a poor, foolish, shy thing like herself. But the 
acquaintance grew 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 tell which she 
loved most, John or his mother. She was 
quite as proud of Mammy Honey — who had 
visited her with an offering of ten hanks of 
flax yarn, ten ells of linen and six pairs of 



A NEW MISTEESb: 23 

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

When the marriage ceremony was over, 
John brought Peggy home in the new donkey- 
cart, — the only equipage his establishment 
boasted. Mammy Honey stood in the cottage 
door arrayed in lier best 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. 

Folding the young orphan to her breast, 
Mammy Honey- cried out, with the eloquence of 
her people, " Blissed be the God and Fatlier 
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, that will 
hide ye where .trouble can never find ye ; and 
it's on yer lovin' breast, mavourneen, tliat 
I'll lean and forget there's such tilings as old 
age and wakeness in the world." 

Then throwing her arms around the stalwart 



24 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

form of John, she cried out, " Ye, darliii', 
are the son o' a righteous man, and have come 
of a long line o' them that feared God. The 
promise to the seed o' the righteous has been 
fulfilled to ye, and see now that ye 'bide in the 
fear o' God and seek Him henceforth witli the 
whole heart. Look, boy," she continued, 
" and see what God lias given ye to make 
your home shine 'like heaven, and to close the 
dying eyes o' yer old mother ! God save ye, 
John, from ever piercing her heart with one 
sharp word. And now the grace o' God bide 
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. Slie loved everything, 
from John and his mother down to the ducks 
and the chickens ; 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' off girlish ways and lookin' sober-like." 
She applied herself to her work with that 



A XEW MISTRESS. 25 

glad spirit which changes toil to a blessing, 
and soon became the model wife of the region. 
The whitest flax, the sweetest butter and the 
brightest hearth-stone were hers. But such 
was her humility that she took none of the 
credit, but always spoke of " Mammy Honey's 
silver flax " and " Mammy Honey's golden 
butter ; " and wondered why John ever chose 
her for his wife, and how Mammy Honey 
could bear so patiently with her slow ways, 
and never weary teaching her her own " il- 
egant " ones ! 

Many a richer and wiser bride has gone to 
her husband's home without such a welcome as 
Peggy received at Daisy Farm ; many a 
mother has given away a son with no such re- 
turn of love to cheer lier declining days as that 
in which Mammy Honey now rejoiced, and for 
which she praised God in prayer and song, and 
thank-offerings 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 wallsof Harplcy Hall, — the seat of 



26 GEMS 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 they 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 outsliine her in the neatness of her 
person and in the order of her household; — a 
thing easily done by any one. The neglected 
little ones, catching the spirit of their mother, 
felt at liberty to annoy her also. The big boys 
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 MISTBESif. 27 

bore their insults with meekness and patience. 
Once, sorely annoyed, she shed tears, when 
that old philosopher said, in soothing tones, 
" It's yer ould mammy that knows, mavour- 
neen, how hard all this is to the flesh, for she's 
gone through it for nigh half a cent'ry with 
the 0' Germans 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 an 
angry word, or laid up one ha' peth o' re- 
vinge agin them, but always pitied them. And 
so I did, dear, till the pity turned to love, and 
in the end brought back love again. For 
when the ould mother o' this man come down- 
to death, it was I alone must smooth her pil- 
low and mix her drink, and I — Protestant 
though I was — must close her eyes in death. 
She remembered how patient I had borne with 
her, and this was all the way she had o' asking 
my forgiveness. And if she had not it would 
ha' been all the same, for Crod never forgets, 
jewel ! Patience with tliem will bring heaps 
of heaven's gold into yer own heart, and ye'U 



28 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

find that even them is helpin' ye on in the road 
to glory, by-and-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 whicli 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 her care- 
less neighbor was away from liome, 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 masther " expressed pleas- 
ure at their frolicsome ways, she said, " I'll 



A IfEW MISTRESS. 29 

bring them over ony day, dear, to play with 
ye, but 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 ; " 
for she had noticed that for the last few weeks 
0' Gorman had frequently called to him to 
come over and hear a letter from Jim, in 
" Ameriky," or to smoke a pipe with him. 
This was an unwonted civility which John 
had not power to refuse — indeed, he had 
not power to refuse anything to anybody. 
He had been held in by his stern father and 
his resolute mother from going among evil 
companions, 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. 



CHAPTER III. 

MAMMY HONEY. 

AD ARK day comes 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 nearing 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 therefore 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 be forgot- 
ten at Daisy Farm — she was prostrated by a 

30 



MAM3IY HONEY. 31 

sudden palsy, and became thenceforth like a 
helpless child in the care of Peggy. 

" It's a life's load ye'a got now," cried out 
her hard-hearted neighbor to Peggy, the morn- 
ing after this calamity. " The Sheehans will 
get good pay out of ye now, for all the fine liv- 
ing ye've had there these last years ! Och, 
but she'll be a burden ! " 

" 0, no, don't say that, neighbor," replied 
Peggy. " It's such a burden as I pray God 
to let me carry to the end o' my days. If 
He'll only spare her to me, I'll be the thank- 
fulest child He has in all the wide world, and 
never weary o' her day or night — the darlin'." 

" Ye know well that this is a widow's curse 
that has fallen on the ould body, o' course ? " 
asked Biddy 0' Gorman. 

" A curse fallen on her blissed head ? It 
can never be ! " replied Peggy, turning pale. 

" Yis that same," repeated Mrs. Biddy. 
" It was this way : When John and my hus- 
band were b'ys, there cam' along ould Bet Mig- 
houl tellin' fortun's, and as yer kitchen was 
the hugest in Killyrooke, she asked might tlie 



32 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

crowds come to her there. And Mammy 
Sheehau said, ' No deeds o' darkness shall 
be done benath the roof through which prayer 
has risen night and morn for more nor a cen- 
tury.' Then Bet was sore angered, and stand- 
ing in the road just fornint the door, slie 
pulled off her cap and let her gray locks fly to 
the winds, while she prayed that Mammy 
Sheelian might, afore she died, lose tlie 
power to ask a drink o' water, and that no 
child might ever after he 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 my husband — 
might have as many childer as there war 
moons in the year, and thim all grow to bo 
lords and ladies ! " and the cruel woman hold 
up lier rosy infant before Peggy, and tlien 



2IA2IMT HONEY. 33 

pressed it to her breast, casting, as she did 
so, a look of triumph at the terrified listener. 

" The curse about no more childer in tlie 
cottage has come true, then ; and noiu the 
palsy will forbid tlio ould body to ask water, 
and the other one about John, — well, well, 
there's ao tellin' 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 A^oice had pierced the little 
room where Mammy Honey lay in lier weak- 
ness, and she cried, as Peggy entered, " Come 
here, flower o' my heart ! Surely, yer fear o' 
a sinful woman is not greater nor your trust 
in God ! His blissing rested on tliis cottage 
long years after I smoothed the dying pillow 
o' poor Bet in the workhouse, and will yet 
rest here if ye 'l)ide in His love. The lack o' 
childer is sometimes tlie lack o' sorrow, and 
God knows best wliere to sind them. Then, 
the last evil word slie spoke — about my John 
— 0, Peggy, if he goes asthray when Pm no 

3 



34 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

longer here to liould him in, it'll be 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 he will be brought in at the last." 

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

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

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



MAMMY HONEY. 35 

was his obedience to it. " No, John," she 
cried, " ye can niver tal^e away the child God 
sent me in my old age, to fade your men. 
Yo can call in somebody to do your rough 
work, and pay her for it ; but I can not buy 
such love and tinderness as Peggy's with 
gold ; and the life would just go out o' me 
if I lost the sight o' her dear eyes. ' Bide 
by your poor failin' mother, Peggy, dear," she 
cried imploringly. 

" So I will, darlin'," replied the gentle Peg- 
gy, '• though the rapers should starve for it. 
Better the mildew fall on the grain than ye be 
neglected that has been every other body's 
sarvant in sickness. And more nor tliat, it's 
a small while only that I'll have ye, and I 
grudges every hour that I'm losin' o' yer com- 
pany. It's not an hour agono since yon bright 
Nan O'Gorman sprang over tlie stile, begging 
would I suffer her to come in and hilp me 
through the harvest. She says it's a sorry 
life slie lades at homo, bctwaiie the abuse o' 
her mother and the throublc o' the cliildor. 
She's a fair, plcasant-voicod cretur, and it's a 



36 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

pity no one takes her by the hand to save her. 
I'd a mind to ax ye might I bid her in to the 
kitchen for ten days ; but then the thought o' 
her mother, and the fearful scarin' 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 
in the veins o' the whole race. They tri- 
umphed over me when the hand o' the Lord 
touched me. The sun could not shine on the 
liar.vest if the reapers as gathered it war fed 
by an O'Gorman, nor " 

Here Mammy Honey stopped suddenly, and 
throwing up her hands as if startled by her 
own words, cried, '' Alas, alas, childer ! what am 
I saying ? Is this the spirit o' Him that spint 
His last breath prayin' for his inemies ? Is 
this all the meetness I have for the home I'm 
reachin' after, and whose doors is just opening 
to let me in ? Is there more hatred and rcvinge 
in my heart, now that I stand on tlie brink o' 
Jordan and see the promised land, tlian wlicn 
I was far back in the highways o' life ? Have 



MAMMY HONEY. 37 

I no liiingeriii' after tlieir salvation, and no 
long-in' to meet tlieni where foes cannot meet? 
Woe's me ! Now can I cry onr in spirit, ' Who 
shall deliver me from the body o' this death ? ' 
I thonglit I was done with sin ; but oh, the 
evil one liolds on to God's own with a pow- 
erful grasp ! He'd triumph now could he but 
bring down me that he's liad so many battles 
witli ; but he'll niver do it, for Him that has 
redeemed me has said, ' None shall pluck them 
out of my hands.' I'll show Satan that 
though flesh and lieart is failin,' I'm yet able 
to withstand him, and to war agin the flesh 
too. Jolni, go across the street and bid i\i 
that poor \incared for gud ; and who knows 
but God will ' low Peggy to hape coals o' fire 
on tlieir heads by making her a thrifty, mod- 
est and honest woman ? She war a pretty 
baby — 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 
let me be alone with God." 

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



38 • GEMS OF THE BOG. 

she fell far below the good woman's standard 
of neatness and modesty, she surprised her by 
her quickness and her readiness to learn. 

Peggy's heart was full of excuses for the 
untrained child, now almost a woman, and she 
checked with real kindness all grumbling and 
complaints from John. Paddy Mannon, who 
confessed that he hated " with most unchrist- 
ian hatred every O'Gorman, dead, livin' or yet 
unborn," patronizingly admitted that she was 
the least vicious of the name. After awhile, 
John seemed amused by her wild, sprightly 
ways, and even Mammy Honey asked for little 
attentions at her hand, and addressed her 
gently, as, " Nanny, my child," and was grat- 
ified by Peggy's forbearance with her. 



CHAPTER IV. 

PADDY MANNON. 

THE harvest was gathered in, or " stacked," 
and immense lieaps 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 liberty to attend " fairs " and 
races, and to make his annual visit to his 
wife, '' a most ondustrious young woman, who 
provided for herself and child intirely by 
begging, and never bothered him at all no 
more nor if he war a young b'y without a 
wife." 

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



40 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

a beggar, misthress, and I understand my oon 
business better than another one's. ' Let the 
shoemaker stick to his last.' I'll just bide 
where I am, and visit Paddy at whiles o' 
leisure." 

Meg's home was not as good as a thrifty far- 
mer's 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, through 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, whose race 
and sex must remain forever a mystery. 

Meg Mannon was a fine specimen of a 
prosperous Irish beggar, and was, on the whole, 
a proud and happy woman, having notliing 



PADDY MANNON. 41 

to do but to walk from parisli to parish, fol- 
lowed by little Pat, and receive the gifts of 
those who '' owed lier a living." She carried 
her 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 Manamy 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 cojitrary was proud and 
boastful, saying that she was young and strong, 
and could 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 I'm a contint and happy 
woman ? " 

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



42 QEMS OF THE BOG. 

dition that no fire was ligiited and no pipe 
smoked within five rods of it. And with such 
a life Meg was satisfied, and looked no more 
into the realities of the future than if she had 
not been an immortal being. She paid her fees 
to the church, went to mass when 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 tliem, that 
they do not see the light ; and those of a purer 
faith look on and cry, " The bandages can 
never be removed from their eyes." But few, 
alas, take hold with vigorous hand to try what 
can be done. While, however, the mass of the 
people in that corrupt church are at ease in 
tbeir 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 beggars laid up fortunes and lived in 



PADDY 3fANAWN. 43 

fine stone houses. They were always planning 
a fund to pay their passage. The 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 liad as little care 
for the morrow as the birds of the air or the 
lilies of the field. But this was not the result 
of faitli ; for, after all the labor dear Mammy 
Honey had expended on him from childhood 
up, she was forced to confess at last that " poor, 
foolish Paddy lived like tlie 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 tlie long 
years he had dwelt under her roof, begging 
him to be wise and repent while it was called 
to-day, lest he should be cut off in his sins. 



44 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Whist, noo, misthress dear," he replied ; 
'' it will do for ye, whose time is yer own, to be 
readiu' and prayiii' half yer daylight. The 
likes o' me has to do it all up of a Sunday. 
When I pats on a clane shirt 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 swear, and drink, and steal, 
and lie. And yersilf knows that poor Paddy, 
that prays only of a Sunday, is as sober, and 
honest, and loving as the daylight aboove us. 
Noo what better would I be if I was confissing 
to the priest and mutterin' 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. Wliat will ye do when 
death comes ? " 

'^ Och, dear heart, thin I'll pray as fast as 
any o' thim ! I always does whin I'm in 
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 



PADDY MANNON. 45 

I'd be to fall asleep for a minute, sure I'd 
spring up and go at it again, fear her ghost 
would come to me ! " 

Mammy Honey groaned. " Oh, Padd}^, it's 
nigh quarter a cent'ry since I took ye in hand, 
and tliis is all I've accomplished for ye ! Sure 
I'm aither a blind lader o' the blind, or a 
most unprofitable sarvant ! " 

" Och, no, Misthress Honey, ye're nather o' 
them ; the fault o' my not lieedin' yer religion 
is on the head o' his riverence, for he watches 
mo as the cat watches the mouse, and tells me 
if I'm a ' turn-coat,' that the ghosts o' all my 
Catholic anchesters will come down upon me 
and tear me to pieces, and I'll lose my soul 
then — sure ! " 

" Paddy, my poor man," replied his mis- 
tress, " ye are fast in the net o' Satan, and 
how can I die and leave ye there ? " 

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



46 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

no doubt I'll get into heaven some way. If his 
riverence is chating me, I'll be let in for yer 
sake. Ye've done ^ good enough to get yer- 
silf and Masther John, and mesilf all safe 
through ; and as for the young misthress — 
there could be no excuse for keeping her out 
at all, at all ; for she's as hooly now as any in 
it;' 

Such were the low ideas Paddy entertained 
of heaven and the way of life, after all the 
efforts which had been made to enlighten his 
darkness. Nor was his a solitary case ; he 
was surrounded by men and w^omen who lived 
as they listed, and who trusted for eternal hap- 
piness to their own good works — a poor array 
— , and in the prayers of the saints and the 
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 salvation o' poor, 
blind Killyrooke, includin' John and yersilf! 
But that wouldn't save ye. Ye must repent o' 
yer sins and believe in the Lord Jesus for yer* 



PADDY MANNON. 47 

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 ii. 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- 
cent-behaved lad, and desarve as respictable a 
funeral as ony o' thira — yis, and respictabler 
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 expenditure, 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 ; 
for Meg and me has made a promish together, 
that wliichever of the twos dies first shall be 
buried fine, if it takes the livin' one tlie rest o' 
her days to pay for it ! Then ye think, mis- 
thress, that not a Catholic body will be let in 



48 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

to heaven at all ? " lie added, returning to the 
first subject. 

" No, Paddy, I think no such thing. I be- 
lave if ever my eyes see ' the King in His 
beauty,' I shall see beside him poor Dennis 
Burke, who bore his sufferings so patient, and 
blissed God in the furnace, and died with the 
name o' Jesus on his lips. In a dark place 
Dennis had spied a great light, and made after 
it, and walked in it. But the cloud was so 
thick about him he did not see how to get 
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 
saved all who trusted' in Him, from the errors 
and blindness of arth. And more than ould 
Dennis is safe in Christ, while havin' a name 
in yer church. There's good Mammy Crogin, 
that spun for me last fall ; the two o' us had 
just a little heaven togefclier a talkin' o' the 
love o' God, and a wishin new days for poor 
Ireland. And some o' the holiest of men lived 
and died in the Catholic church." 



PADDY 3/^i\W0xY. 49 

" Och, then, sure T771 safe in it ! " cried 
Paddy, quite relieved to find his mistress bad 
sympathy with any of his faith. 

" Oh, no, for ye are not like them ones, 
Paddy. They saw the errors of Eome, though 
they saw not the way of deliverance from her, 
but ca^ne 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 ivcr done, that 
ye may be drawn by an iverlasting love ; for 
ye will never come 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 ye 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, where 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 

4 




^^^EMb' OF THE BOG. 

Saints' Rest. Sli^? liac none of the appliances 
of our day and our Idnd, ^.vherewith to bring 
the truth before men. No books, no tracts, no 
prayer-meetings ; but, for all tii^s, she kept the 
enemy at bay in her own hamlet', and foiled 
his eflforts many a time at Cloynmally. 



CHAPTER Y. 

A CLOUD OYER DAISY FARM. 

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

51 



o2 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

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

Yet if the Holy One ielt the tempter's power 
in His mortal conflict, is it strange that some 
of His followers are 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, 
be put to his lips ? Blessed be fellowship with 
Jesus, even though it be the fellowship of 
suffering ! 

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



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 53 

It disturbed her vision of her children's 
future and her hopes of Ireland, leaYing licr 
own prospects still glorious. What true 
mother can be satisfied with heaven for her- 
self alone ? Mammy Honey was going to her 
Father's kingdom ; but she wanted John, 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 com plate without Aer." 

'' 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 
John, too, darlin', for this is the 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 
shall 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 pinted 
with love. I hears the bells beginnin' to ring 
in heaven, rejoicin' over another poor sinner 
come off conqueror through grace. But I've 
a partin' word on the bank of Jordan for ye 



54 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

twos — my darlins'. I would be to warn ye 
that the diviVs not dead., but still goes roarhi' 
about ; and if iver he strives to damage ye, 
it'll be by putting a space between yer two 
liearts ! I've no fears o' ye' 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 pratees, and the dear 
bastes, and the powltry ! I'm afeared ye'll let 
the very mercies o' God lade ye astray from 
Him till ye lose yer soul ! Peggy, love, 
w^atch him every hour and keep a fast hould 
on him, and bring him safe to me at last! 
Til expect that o' ye^ darlin\ And now I'd be 
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 the 
trumpet sounds for me, that I may put ye on 
yer guard." 

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



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 55 

'' 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 aboot yon vision : I had the wakeness 
in me head for a bit, and then I saw crawlin' 
slowly over the floor o' the kitchen a sarpint 1 
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 it a blow. Tlien 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 me to scream out to ye. 
But I thought Paddy Mannon — poor, foolish, 
levin' Paddy — struck it a blow with his huge 
fist and killed it ontirely." 

" 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 iver stand by and see the light o' his 



56 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

eyes touched by a sarpiut or ony otlier onlioly 
thing ? Indade no ! There's nather man nor 
thing in all Killyrooke would dare give her an 
oncivil word ; for betwane Paddy and mesilf 
we'd soon make an eend o' him ! Ye're 
lliroubled now, dear ; sthrive to rest a bit." 

" There's a long rest just beyont for me, 
John; I must give my last breath to ye and 
Peggy in counsel. Now promise me, ye son o' 
a hooly man, that ye'll go no more across to 
the 0' Germans', as I've seen ye doin' o' late. 
There's too much whisky and too many evil 
words there. Ye cannot walk into the fire 
without bein' burned, lad." 

" It's only the prattle o' ' the childer that 
takes me there at all, mammy," replied John. 
" Ifs so lone and silent here ! " 

" And aren't silence better nor brawlin', 
man ? " asked the mother. '' If God has sent 
no childer to comfort ye, thank Him He's sent 
none to break yer hearts. And heed ye my 
words, John ; don't ye fly in the face o' the 
Almighty, for if ye do ye'll be sorely baten 
in the contist. Send Nanny — Heaven pity 



A CLOUT) OVER DAISY FARM o7 

the cliilcl — borne when I'm gone, aud live 
yersilves like two tartle-doves till I see ye 
again." 

For a little time Mammy Honey lay as if 
done with all below. Then she cried out, " Ob, 
that God would j^ity Ireland, — poor, swate 
Ireland, bound in chains and darkness ! The 
men of God go to the far-off hatben, 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 he 
forgotten! Good night, jewels." And she 
was not, for God had taken her. 

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 



58 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

hands, and howling out lamentations for her 
who had " left a huge spot impty, and carried 
the heart o' Killjrooke to the grave with 
her!" 

When the coffin had been lowered into the 
grave, the pastor of the little flock in Cloyn- 
mally seized this rare opportunity of explain- 
ing to the poor people the way of salvation 
through Christ alone. He spoke of the holy 
life by which their dead friend had honored 
her faith among them, and through which she 
had now entered into rest. While he was yet 
speaking, a simple youth from Killyrooke, 
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 ! This is the evil day for Daisy 
Farm and the Sheehans ! I seed a white 
dove perched on the coffin o' Mammy Honey, 
and it followed her here ; and it'll bide on hei- 
grave whin we's are gone hoom ; and then it'll 



A GLOUB OVER DAISY FARM. 59 

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

Then he clapped his hands and laughed 
loud and long, as lie looked up to the heavens. 
"■ Ocli, och ! " he cried, '' liut this same is the 
blessed day for herself that fed the beggars, 
and knit warm stockin's for mesilf these nine 
years agone ! She shuk off her heresy like 
a varmint with her last brith, and bid John 
to tell o't. I sees her now passin' through the 
fires o' purgatory, the first Sheehan that ever 
got through since heaven war built. ' And 
now, look ! look ! she's let in among the hooly 
— the only Protestant body in the liape ! " 

The people stood as if turned to stone by 
the ravings of the idiot, who was really more 
knave than fool. But John, whose pride was 
touched by this reflection on his family and his 
faith, forgot the decorum incumbent on him as 
a mourner. He stepped out from among the 



60 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

people, and cried, '' Hoot, there, poor crack- 
brain ! Go home and tell him that bid ye do 
this onchristian dade to broken hearts, that 
not a Sheehan ever lived on arth — mesilf ex- 
cepted — but's in heaven to day 1 and tell him 
that whiles I'm the respictable man I am, na- 
ther owls, bats nor ravens shall get lave to 
bide above my lioom, nor yet will ye ever be, 
fed there again. Away with ye ! " 

Poor Peggy, who could not endure an- 
gry words, fell fainting with exhaustion and 
fear. Kind women gathered about her, say- 
ii]g, " 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 evening after 
the funeral of one beloved ? John and Peggy 
sat in the deep shadow of the broad clay 
chimney-place, where the peat was smoking 
and smouldering, but ndtlier spoke. She was 
nursing her grief, he l^ymg plans to puni^i 
the poor fool. At length Nan 0' Gorman rosJI 
from the little casement where she had been 
sitting with her chin resting on her chubby 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 61 

hands, gazing at the passers-by. She fell 

upon 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 blowing, 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 my own heart lies with her, for I feel the 

damp and cold o' the grave 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. He rose and took down a coarse frieze 

cloak from the peg on which it hung, and was 

wrapping it about her, when she cried, " 0, 

John, that is her cloak ! How can ye touch it 

with thouglitless hancis ! " 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, 
slic closed her eyes, and laid her pallid cheek 



62 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

against the cold clay cliimney, and clasping 
her hands, 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 
Mannon ! " and that gentleman, with a bundle 
on a stick over his shoulder, leaped in witli a 
whoop and a comical grimace. He had just 
returned from his yearly visit to Meg, and was 
wholly ignorant of the great sorrow at tlio 
cottage. He stepped on tip-toe to the inner 
door, and peeped in, hoping to cheer Mammy 
Honey with tlie sight of his honest face. All 
was quiet there, and in perfect order. Paddy 
turned round, and seeing Peggy's ever busy 
hands folded helplessly €>n her lap, the truth 
burst upon his mind, and lie cried out, " It's 
surely not dead that she is ! " 

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



♦ ' 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 63 

iiig down between John and Peggy on his 
knees, covered his face with his great rough 
hands, and gave way also to a flood of tears. 
Soon he broke out into a wild Irish wail, and 
chanted the praise of his lost mistress in a sort 
of rhyme, for which he was very famous in the 
region, often being sent for to " howl out 
varses " over the dead whose relatives were no 
poets. He ran over her history and her vir- 
tues, from her childhood till the day she took 
possession of him at the 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 "workliouse once she tuk 
Poor Paddy Mannon — that was luck! 
And rared him uj) a splindid youth, 
Haped full o' vartue and o' truth ; 
Until he'd be to marry Meg, 
Who — rather far than work — would bog; 
She tached her how to spin and knit. 
But work she wouldn't, not a bit! 
And when that silver mornin' dawned 
On which my little Pat was horned. 
She filled poor Paddy's heart with joy. 
By askin' God to bliss tlie boy. ' ' 



64 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

He told of her holy life, in which she " fed 
beggars, sought after peace, and loved her 
inimies better nor herself;" and how, when 
*' the old masther " was taken from her she 
" thanked God still that Himself was left to 
her ; " he told how " she walked down quite 
contint into the grave, satisfied that she'd find 
hiven beyont," which, he added, '^ she did, too, 
and is there to-night." Each sentence ended 
with a wild howl peculiar to himself, which 
no one could imitate. 

This duty over, poor, thoughtless Paddy 
seated himself, and was soon doubly comforted 
by a bowl of bread and milk, and by the 
announcement that Mammy Honey had be- 
queathed him the blue deal chest containing 
.the wardrobe of the deceased Daddy Sheehan. 

" Och ! but I wish this same had happened 
afore I wjint ; Meg would ha' been that proud 
to go with me, dressed up in that honest 
man's Sunday coat, to Blarney Fair," he 
exclaimed. 

" 0, Paddy, Paddy ! " cried Peggy, mourn- 
fully, " ye surely did not wish her sooner 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 65 

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

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

" If the blissed saint could come back and 
sit dovrn here beside us, you surely would not 
bo afeared o' her," said Peggy. " When she 
did only good on this sinful arth, she'd do 

5 



66 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

no evil now that she's seen God and is like 
Him. If I conld but see the shadow of her 
here, my poor sick lieart would lape up for joy. 
But I'll never, never see her more — unless, 
please God, I grow holy enough to go where 
she's singhi' to-niglit. But 0, John, how can 
she sing there if she knows that lier Peggy's 
heart is breaking down here ? Jolni, John, 
will you strive to help me on and to seek God 
yerself?" 

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

" Cease telling what ye'll do, and think on 
what's been done for ye, darlhi'. Ye never 
did a thing in yer life that would help ye on to 
heaven. What is our poor righteousness, 
John, to recommind us to God ? 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- 
sionally calling out, " Are you there, Masther 
John ? " and being assured that protection was 



A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 67 

at liciiid, lie would doze again. After that 
John hired a neighbor's boy to sleep with liiiu'* 
for weeks in the loft. 



w 



CHAPTER VI. 

Conflict and Victory 

HEN the cottage was again restored to 
its old order and quiet — that order and 
quiet so painful to a bereaved heart — Peggy 
had " not work 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 lie 
down on the grave ; and her prayer was not 
that God would sanctify lier 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 o' 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," he added, looking at her proudly, 



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 69 

*' 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 all ! " ' 

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. 
She 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 



70 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

at all." And she kissed the little pin ten- 
derly. 

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. He says my red cheeks is just the 
things to draw in guests o' market days, and 
he'll give me iaw shillings a year more nor the 
last one had. She's destroyed entirely by the 
small i^ox, 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 growin' 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 
childer," said Peggy. 



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 71 

" 111 do iiather 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 tlie next day, and saw her set 
off — without crossing the road to speak to her 
mother — for Drongally, 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 
smoky rafters frowned on her, and the whole 
})lace looked poor, empty and gloomy. She 
gJunced within her own heart, but all there 
was blackness and darkness. Dropping her 



72 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

hands helplessly at her side, she cried, " Hiv- 
eniy Father, had ye no pity left for yer poor 
orphan t Peggy, when ye took tlie blissed Mam- 
my Honey 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 
niver love me, or ye would ha' spared me this, 
by takin' me along with her ! " 

And then the hitherto patient and submis- 
sive woman cherished hard thoughts of God, 
and doubted not only His mercy but His 
power. She was for a season in the hands 
of the tempter and left 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, after all," she thouglit, 
" 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 iamb that died in the spring — to lie sinse- 
less forever I " The bare suspicion against 
God filled her soul with anguish ; and falling 



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 73 

on her knees she shrieked out, " I'm undouo, 
undone ! I've grieved the Holy Spirit by 
castin' away my confidence, which hath great 
recompense o' reward ; and now I've lost God 
as well as Mammy Honey, and I'm goin' 
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 behind her, she cried out in 
her agony, " ' Get thee behind me, Satan,' for I 
have not the power o' Him ye 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 ! " 

John was repairing, ditches a little way from 
the cottage, and hearing Peggy's cries, went in 
and found her prostrate on tlie 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 ? " 



74 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Och, John, Mammy Honey's loss is a small 
thing now ! I've got a huger throuble nor 
that on me ! " she cried, turning her pale face 
up to him imploringly. 

" What on arth can it be ? " asked John, 
running to the door, and looking, involun- 
tarily, toward the cow-house and the sheep- 
fold, where his treasures were. " Have we 
lost any body else ? " 

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

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

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



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 75 

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

" Fastin' ? Sure, yer not turn in' Papist, 
arc ye ? " asked John. 

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

John looked at her wonderiiigly. 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 her. But Peggy had lived 
within herself, being always reserved on mat- 
ters 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 our mother ever had, she was as arnest 
about her business as ever. She said that 
livin' near the Lord helped her better with her 



76 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

duty. And for that, itself, if no other, religion 
would be a fine thing in the world." 

Peggy prepared the humble meal and served 
it as one whose spirit was far away. All being 
restored to neatness in the kitchen, 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 
in 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- 
*.ng the morning meal. 

"Oh, foi' this love let rocks and hills 
Their lasting silence break ; 
And all harmonious human tongues 
The Saviour's praises speak! " 

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

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



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 11 

ill her own ; " come ijnd sit down till I ask ye 
a question. Did ye ever hear Mammy Hone}' 
say that a body could be ' 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, whicli slione like an 
angel's. " Why, dear, what if she did ? " 

"Wliy, then, if that can be so, I've been 
twice ' born again ; ' onco when I was a lonely 
orphant at dear Farmer Dbane's, and now this 
last night again. And, Jolni, look at me, and 
tell me if I'm the same Peggy ye saw breakin' 
her heart these last days because God didn't 
give up the rule o' all tilings — even life and 
death — into lier foolish hands ? " 

" I was 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 He has revealed 



78 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

" 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 He revaled Himself to me as the 
altogether lovely, the last night, wlicn all the 
world but me was sleepin'. 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 be His name. 
I'll liavc a whole etariiity to finish in — but 
finished my praise can niver, niver be." 

Paddy Mannon's appetite was the token to 
liim that breakfast was ready. He had drawn 
near the cottage and stood at the door, amazed 



CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 79 

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

/'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," lie added. " And, 
dear," said he to Peggy ; " be sure ye take the 
darlin' mammy's little egg ])asket to the minis- 
ter's, and till his lady we'll keep up the gift 
o' herself as long as we have a bin to cackle 
aboot the doors ! For I'll be sorry the minister 
should think there weren't a Christian left in 
the cottage to fade the Lord's sarvants, now 
my mother's gone ! " 



CHAPTER VII. 

VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 

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

She was ushered into the little parlor, where 
Mrs. Murray sat reading to h^* boys, and was 
kindly received. Before she was seated, Mr. 
Murray entered, and holding out his hand, 
spoke in very gentle tones, as is natural when 
we address one in deep affliction. 

" My good friend," he said, " I'm sorry you 
should have to come after me in your sorrow. 
I was going down to Killyrooke in an hour or 

80 



VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 81 

two, to see 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 where to begin nor what to say." 

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

" 0, dear heart, no ! " cried Peggy. " I 
want the whole of Cloynmally and Killyrooke 
— the whole world, to know what God has 
done for me, a poor, rebillious, weak, shy 
thing, unworth his care or notice! Do ye 
think, sir, that iver a body was ' born again ' 
twice? " 

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

6 



82 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

into a fuller light 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 sperit — 
always holding on to Mammy Honey's skirt to 
keep my hope up. I've been years a hungerin' 
and a thirstin' after righteousness. But mind 
what blindness I was in ! When I'd pray, I'd 
say, ' Make me 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 and 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 me, and I'd fallen into sin and 
doubted his mercy ; and woe's me, I cliarged 



VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 83 

God with forgettin' to be gracious and not 
keepin' 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 exhausted on my pillow and 
fell asleep. Then I dramed that I was walkin' 
weary and lame tln-ough huge bogs fall o' 
holes and pits, and it black nigiit about me. 
I dropped my staff and 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 good 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 though ye see him not for yer 
blindness, the Saviour is beside ye always, and 
benath ye are the everlasting arms. It is this 
which has kept ye so that ye could not, and 
that ye will not fall — foriver ! ' I looked at 
my right hand, and there stood one like unto 



84 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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 from 
mc ; but they left my soul haped full o' joy, 
and now there's room for nothing else there ! 
I'm just fly in' 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 
wliit 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 lie onco had a season of such 



VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 85 

perfect and conscious union with Christ that 
lie had no will of his own left. He felt his 
wliole 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 He 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, shoiild his words 
come true, you will see tliat no straiige 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 tliat 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, 
leadins: him to make a new and fuller sur- 
render of himself and his all to Christ. Not 
long after this a fearful distemper prevailed, 



86 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

and Ill's three children were smitten down and 
his house left unto him desolate. And he 
said that lie gave them up with joy in his soul 
— that he could not refrain from falling on his 
knees before his neighbors, and thanking God 
that He 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 
come that one would have the boldness to 
call ' throuble,' after yon vision o' heaven in 
the 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 

" Ah, Peggy, my good woman, you have 
reached a height your minister has not yet 
caught sight of. The King lias held out His 
sceptre 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 
has long toiled for souls in darkness here — as 
He has done to you. And may the God of peace 
abide with you." 

All this time Peggy had held Mammy 
Honey's little egg-basket on her arm, and now, 
•-ecollecting herself, she gave it with John's 
Dicssage to Mrs. Murray, and said, " The sun is 
iinking, and 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, paecfni grave where my darlin' is 
sleepin." And with a courtesy she departed. 
• As she passed thix. \gh the little flower-garr 
den on her way to the ^'oad, Peggy stooped to 
look at a little flower " Pluck as many as 
you please, my dear friv:i..l," said the minister, 
who stood in the door watching her. She 



88 GEMS OF TEE BOG. 

gathered a few sprigs of mignonette and 
lieart's-ease, and, curtseying her thanks, went 
on. As Mr. Murray closed tlie door, he 
saw her press them to her lips. " Ah, look at 
her ! " lie 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 I Oh, for her exceeding great joy ! " 

When Peggy reached the little clmrcli-yard, 
she stood a moment looking over the hedge 
which surrounded it ; then she passed in, and 
up a path to the new-made grave. A work-, 
man was there trimming the hedge ; two 
little hoys were wandering about hand-in-hand 
in solemn curiosity, whispering their questions 
and answers to each other ; a score of merry 
birds were trilling and twittering — they had 
no fear of death. But Peggy heeded neither 
sight nor sound. She was alone witli 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. 



VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 



8$ 



This is but the open door to hiven, my Father's 
house, where hereelf is a waitin' me ! But 
whin I roach tlie place, my heart will be 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 blisseJ. 0, death ! where is thy. 
sting, 0, grave I where is tliy victory ? They 
are both gone ; and we, when we is risen with 
Christ, will be conquerors, and shall wear the 
crown ! Oh, the love o' God in Christ Jesus ! 
How iver shall I show it to the world, and 
bring them all to taste it I " 

She sat on the new-laid sod, smoothing it 
gently with her hand. " I must away now, 
darlin', home to my duties; the roughest o' 
thim all looks jist lovely to me now ! I'll 
never again ask to bring ye back from the 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 ! 



9(t GEMS OF THE BOG. 

for there's nothing here but that ! " And with 
a placid face, tlie loving creature pressed a 
fervent kiss on " the dear artli that covered 
the darlin'," laid the little flowers upon it, 
and went on her homeward way. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

SINGING AND WORKING. 

WHEN Peggy returned to her labors, a 
light seemed to shine over every homely 
thing she touched, and toil was clianged from a 
curse to a blessing. When the dairy work was 
over, she stirred up the peat, which usually 
supplied her with light, and brought out once 
more the little wheel. The flax flew as 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 sing- 
ing at her work. That she had rarely done in 
her happiest day, for, as John said, " she was 
such a quiet-like mousie ye'd niver know she 
was in the world but only for the power o' 
work she tarned off her two hands." It liad 
been Mammy Honey's wont to cheer labor with 
song, and Peggy had now resolved to be as 

PI 



P2 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

nearly liko licr as possible, in all things. John 
joined her song, and at the end of the first 
verse Peggy turned to Paddy, who was sitting 
cross-legged oii the floor beside her, mending 
tlie donkey's harness. He always insisted that 
" tliough it was manners ontirely 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 swato 
voice whin ye sing yon heap o' nonsinsc ; why 
can't ye use it, dear man, to praise the Lord 
witli ? " 

" I'm afeared o' that cudgel o' his river- 
cnce'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 ivery 
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 desarved im- 
braces like yon, didn't he tell her I'd been 



SINGING AND WORKING. 93 

Stalin' pears out o' his garden ? It nigh 
broke her heart thinkin' that I, a well-fed lad, 
would be that mean and vicious ! And 7iiver a 
pear did he raise in that ould garden ! 

" Well, thin she put me to larnin' the com- 
mandmint, 'Thou shalt not stale ; ' and the first 
time I confissed, didn't ho draw tJiat out o' me 
and give me anotlier batin' ? So betwixt the 
twos o' 'em poor Paddy had a sorry life o't, 
and the wise conclusion I come to was jist 
this : to belavo my dear misthress' religion, 
and to pretind that I belayed 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." 

" There, there, Paddy, don't hinder tlie swate 
singin' all niglit with yer talk, foolish man. 
Keep quiet while we sing, and try to praise 
God in yer lieart," 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 waa 
tellin' Jack Garin " 



94 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Whist, Paddj/' cried John, sharply, " and 
listen to the singin'." 

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

When Peggy had finislied her spinning and 
her singing for the 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' tliis ye'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 be found any where ; " replied 
John j " 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, and 



SINGING AND WORKING. 95 

didn't iiade all the slape I'm takin' ; and that if 
I'd rise one hour arlier and go to slape one hour 
later, addin' that time to the hours I could 
give to her old work for the nady, it would 
atone a bit for the loss o' her, and it would 
make me that glad to feel that myself was 
honored by fillin' her place in the poor's 
hearts ; " and parcelling out the yarn she 
continued, " Thim skeins will be enough for 
Teddy Byrns, and thim for old Davie Loon. 
These will knit four pairs for the poor babies 
o' careless Kate Connor, and these for lame 

Jerry, and them for the poor fool, and " 

" Quit, Peggy, woman," cried John, starting 
up, and manifesting a temper that she had 
seldom seen before ; " would ye be turnin' yer 
back on yer husband's honor and on the rispic- 
tability o' all the race o' Sheehan 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 I " 



96 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Mammy Honey both clothed and faded 
her inimies, John, and it's no more nor the 
Masther bids us all do. Sure, there'd be a 
great tarnin' up o' tilings if Himself should 
cease to fade ony but His friends ! 0, dear 
man, mind He's sent His rain on our fields 
nioiiy 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're a great sheep. I be- 
lave if one should slap ye in the face ye'd offer 
him bread and milk to pay him for his attiii- 
tioiis ! 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' stockin's 
for him the mane while ! Indade ! " 

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



SINGING AND WORKING. 97 

" Masther, dear," he 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 
Btockin'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. - Remembering, as she never 

7 



98 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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



<s 



CHAPTER IX. 

AN UNWELCOME GUEST. 

THE winter, long and dreary, wore away, 
and the first whisperings of spring were 
heard among the branches 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 the thatch, and that the 
hawthorn 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 vines could creep 
upward 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. 

99 



100 GEMS OF TEE BOG. 

Nature is not 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 the living. 

Fruits succeeded the blossoms, and again 
the grain waved with its ripened burden in the 
fields of Daisy Farm. The reapers were busy 
witli 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 work in the barn- 
yard ; and being sad, she was not as brave as 
usual. As 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 the garb of a 
beggar. The famine was just then ' beginning 
to cast its shadow over poor Ireland, and 



AN UNWELCOME GUEST. 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 shelter 
and a bit o' bre^ad 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 a sudden faint- 
ness, and she exclaimed, " Sure, Nanny, this 
is never ye, lookiu' 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 home 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, 

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

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

" They're angered with me for lavin' thim 
that suddent. My mother sint word she'd 
murther me 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. Let me 'bide under yer marciful 
ruff," she answered, in an imploring tone. 

Peggy's heart sank within her, but her 
kindness triumphed over her fears, and she 
replied, " Ye may 'bide here, Nanny, till yc're 
warmed and fed, but if they'd give me Harpley 
Hall I could never give ye 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 red shawl 
from off her own shoulders, and wrapped it 
around the girl, who was shivering, for the 



AN UNWELCOME GUEST. 103 

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 hy 
a good supper, her old assurance returned. 

" Come, Peggy," she said, coaxingly, " give 
a poor, disappointed and abused girl a home 
in 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 ^hide in this house. John 
made me misthress o't the day God took the 
darlin' 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 kape 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 natheram 
I thrustin' ye out ; but doin' my bist for ye," 



104 GEMS OF THE BO (7. 

replied Peggy. " Paddy Mannoii, 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 ye're 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'll cross this door-stone 
with a sorrowfuller 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. 



AN UNWELCOME GUEST. 105 

Peggy was iii 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 her peace of mind. The serpent's tooih had 
entered 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 aiid 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 suffer* her aboot the place 
after the word o' our mother." •And Peggy 
was satis^ed, 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. 



CHAPTER X. 

FAMINE AND DEATH. 

THE fever which followed in the wake of 
starvation in Ireland some twenty years 
ago, had been sweeping off its victims in the 
surrounding region, but had not hitherto 
reached Killyrooke, nor yet had the potatoes 
there suffered to any great extent. The peo- 
ple listened with while 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. The 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 her begging ex- 
cursion unwittingly into a village where the 
fever had just broken out. The half-starved 

106 



FAMINE AND DEATH. 107 

and poorly sheltered people were flying, panic- 
stricken, in 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 
workhouse "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 ; 
and while his tears ran like a summer shower, 
he cried, " Oh, if yer honor has the heart o' a 
lioosband 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 tlie wide 
world worth bein' buried in." 



108 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

The hard heart of the beadle was moved by 
Paddy's deep grief, and he finally promised to 
let 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 nivcr denied me an honor — for the 
sake o' the Virgin — Mary — and all the saints 
entirely — 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 
liouse, they had not the heart to deny, his re- 



* FAMINE AND DEATH. 100 

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'm 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 ontirely in my soul now and will iver ho, 
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 much 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 ill the hay till his return, for John was 
not willing either father or child should remain 
in the cottage a moment. Having done this, 



llO GEMS OF THE BOG. 

and in a marvelously short time returned witli 
his melancholy burden on the dray, lie went 
off to spend liis quarter's wages in ginger- 
bread, whisky and tobacco, and to invite his 
friends to the melanclioly feast. But tlie news 
had preceded him, and tliey all fled from him 
with screams of terror. So he returned home 
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 
with his riverence at the end o' my nixt 
quarter." 

And Paddy, wlio was so afraid of death 
that lie 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 



FAMINE AND DEATH. 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 hay,. 
Paddy drew poor Meg to the little Catholic 
churchyard and, lowered her gently into 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, darlin', mesilf did it with me 
best Sunday clothes on, — thim as was Daddy 



112 GEMS OF THE BOG, 

Sheelian's — though they're a trifle too big — 
for he was a huge man, ye mind. Good-by to 
ye, Meg, ye fine ombitious gerl. The sun shines 
not on yer like, and it's a short space Paddy 
can live in the world ahind ye." 

The " holy father " now came lip according 
to appointment, and, standing at a respectful 
distance, read a service of which Paddy could 
not understand a word ; and it wos 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 
house 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 

masther and me is both wonderful taken np 
with yon curly-headed lamb o' yours ; and he 
bids ye not take him back to the workliouse, 
for he's to 'bide with us and be our child, as 
we niver had one o' our own. And who can 
tell, Paddy, but God took Meg away that the 
poor lambie might be spared a beggar's life, 
and grow up a holy man to fear God and to 
sarve his gineration." 

" 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 failin's Meg had, she was tinder 
o' the boy — niver lavin' liim about among 
neighbors, as the half o' tliem do, but draggin' 
him weary miles on lier back ! " 

" That's true, indade ! 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' bein' reared a beggar. It's 
fine luck for little Pat, though it's murther for 



114 • GEMS OF THE BOG. 

me, poor- distracted lad that I am, without a 
heart in me hiissum ! Ohoo ! hoo ! hoo ! " 

'' And who can tell, Paddy, but the child's 
innocent prattle may win yer masther away 
from his frolics with thim ontidy urchins 
across the road ? He's such a loon about 
'cliilder, the poor, foolish man ! We'll kape 
the boy that swate and clane that the very 
minister himself could take him on his knee 
and kiss him." 

" Dade will ye," replied Paddy, looking 
proudly at the pretty, bright hoy. " 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 Protestant 
commandmints." 

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



faSiine and death. 115 

Clakej. Yer mastlier will tell liim whin nixt 
he goes 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 placed 
on a high stool of John's manufacture, at the 
table. He 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 tiie 
little fellow would run to meet him ; and when 
lie was seated in the cottage, he would climb 
on his knee, and putting his arms round his 
neck, call him " pretty daddy," and ask, " May 
me ride donkey ? What did old donkey 
say ? " Then John would tell long stories of 
what the donkeys, cows and ducks asked about 
" tlie new little lambie that had come to the 
cottage, with black wool on his head and red 
roses on his cheeks 1 " John taught him to 
count, and to tell the names of coin, and to 
whistle ; Peggy taught him the command- 
ments, and the words of Jesus, '• Suffer the 



116 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

little children to come unto Mo, for of such is the 
kingdom of heaven." Before he had been 
there a week, whistles, tin carts, a jumping- 
jack and a drum, — trifles which had never 
before found their way to Killyrooke, were 
scattered over Peggy's kitclien-floor, and Jolm 
"never went to town but lie brought home some 
toy, about as new and surprising to him and 
Paddy as to the boy. All three agreed that 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, 

Chakes like the rose. 
People think she is the quane. 

Every where she goes! 

0, the flower of Tipperary ! '* 



FAMINE AND DEATH. 117 

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

" Hooly mother!" cried Paddy, springing 
from the 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- 
lave me that I've not at all made up me mind 
aboot another wife yet, or even whetlier I'll 
take one or not ; and why would I, miserable 
man that I am, when the wide warld hasn't 
another like her ? Where would I iver find 
one so strong as she, that would niver 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'll I ^er live in the arth 
without me jewel Meg ? " and he wrung his 
hands, and wept and groaned pitcously. 

His grief, however, was soon spent, and he 
spraiig up on the stile again and resumed liis 



118 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

mending with as much spirit as if no great 
sorrow was on him. Paddy loved liis friends 
while they were with liim, l)nt " out of sight" 
they were soon " out of mind," and he was as 
jolly and contented as if lie had never known 
tliem. 

Peggy suffered 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 neigli- 
boring children. Nan, wlio had not yet been 
murdered l)y her parents, as she had predicted 
s]ie would be, often ])rouglit over her mother's 
l)aby, a l)right, 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, vexed Peggy, 
but she bore it meekly, l)eing too mucli afraid 
of Nan to forbid her visitsi. 

The good woman's fears for little Johnny's 

« 
future w^ere all needless. For one short year 

he made sunshine in the cottage, and tlien 

came a sickness wluch i>;avc no alarm till too 



FAMINE AND DEATH. 119 

late for help , and spoil his prattle was hushed 
m death. And ao:aui the cottao-e was silent. 

Peggy wept as if lier 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 
nor 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 be more like 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 he had found and lost the 
child. • 

While John and Peggy were weeping over 
tlio 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 



^'■^^ GEMS OF THE BOG. 

Peggy and Jolm as if ho himself had no part 
in tliG affliction. He had given the child 
away, therefore his death was nothing which 
particularly concerned him. 



CHAPTER XI. 

A GREAT SORROW. 

NOT a week had passed, after the death of 
little Johnny, when Paddy saw his mas- 
ter tossing coppers among the little O'Gor- 
mans, and stepping np beliind him, said, 
"Ye'd better quit that, Marsther John. 
Remember what ye promised by the deathbed 
o' ycr mother, and kape clare o' the villyans 
altogether." 

" Yer riglit, 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 

121 



122 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

once. Seventy miles a\yav ! It seemed to her 
as far, and attended witli as many dangers, as 
a voyage round the worhl 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 Ij^er 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 ye be tinder and 
respictful to all the cows when ye're a milkin', 
but particular to the Maid o' Longford ; for ye 
know that ye're often impatient when she lifts 
her foot, and spakes in ways that hurts lier 
feelin's." 

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

For four weeks Peggy ministered to her 
aged friend before she died, .and then followed 



A GREAT SORROW. 123 

her to the grave, a solitary mourner She 
almost flew at the thought of home, now that 
she was released. She could not wait twenty- 
four hours for the post-chaise that passed 
through the village where slie 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, wliich 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. The post-chaise stopped at Cloyn- 
mally, and she had tlicn a long walk to Killy- 
rooke, for no letter had announced her 
coming. It was late in the afternoon when 
she opened the rude gate that led into the 
garden ; and, seeing the cottage door open, she 
concluded that John was at home, and stepped 
very lightly, hoping to give him a joyful sur- 
prise. She was suddenly startled by what she 
fancied to be the hum of Mammy Honey's flax 
wheel ! She stopped, and whispered, " Can it 
be that she's come back to watch over him she 
loved, when I'm away? But 'there's the voice 



124 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

o' song! Not the holy bong o' heaven, 
though ! Och, my heart I my heart ! " 

Entering the cottage, she saw a spectacle 
which sent 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 l)lisscd little flax-wheel," sat 
Nan O'Gorman, spinning, and singing — 

" The world's a bid o' roses. 
With nivcr a thorn for me." 

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

The brazen face flushed under her gaze, and 
Nan said, " Don't be goin' wild, now, Peggy, 
because a poor abused girl has taken shelter 
beneath the ruff where ye've 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 Ijiamin' 
John, ather, for it's not by his askin' but o' 
my own will that I'm here kapin' his house 



A GREAT SORROW. 125 

and cookiii' his fuod in ycr absince. Indade^ 
lie bid me away at the first, but yerself knows 
I'm not aisy disposed of " — and she lauglied. 
"Paddy Mannon, that loves ye more nor ho 
does the Yirgin, has refused to ate what I 
cooks, and biles his own porridge beside the 
old cow-house. So it's none o' his doin's, but 
all my own. I'll work under your hand, 
Peggy, and let ye still be the mistliress ; but 
I'm to hide here; that's settled, and it's not in 
yer power to drive me off! Are ye turned to 
stone, Peggy ? Ye scare me Avith yer wild 
eyes and yer white face." 

"Nan," replied Peggy, faintly, "the same 
thatch can niver cover ye and me ! May God 
forgive ye as free as He pities me this day ! " 

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

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



126 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

was ail evil day wlicii ye left us and quit 
watchiu' him! The sarpiiit with tlie human 
face is crawlin' round yer kitclien ; hut as sure 
as I'm Paddy Maunon Pll give it a blow that'll 
send it out, if yc'U I)ido aisy till I docs it ! " 

"No, Paddy, if she do not depart this night, 
I will on the morrow. Why evei* did God 
take Mammy Honey to heaven whou she was 
so sore nadcd on artli I Ihil lie's wileomc to 
her, for all- Pll not gi-udge hoi- to Him, nor 
yet will I resist the rod in His hand ! 0, 
Paddy, it was well this didn't come afore I got 
the great light in my soul ! Himself was de- 
spised and rejicted o' men, and why not me. 
His unworthy disciple ? Himself hadn't a 
where to lay His head, find wliy should I have 
tliis lovely home ? I rcmcmljcrs liow he draid<: 
the vinegar and gall, aiid Pll just drink it too, 
'stead o' demandin' the swate milk Pve 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' 



A GREAT SORROW. 127 

losiii' liim this way — soul and all. But lie 
opened not His month, 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, wdio is the husband o' the widow — and 
I'm a widow, now, Paddy ! " 

Still Paddy sobbed, 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 lier uncle, who was 'mi- 
grated off to Australy." He told how 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 np grimaces behind lier back — 
wdiich same was a relief to liimself, though no 
liarm 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 



128 GEMS OF THE BO(t. 

the eov7-liouse till yer supper's done. Then go 
ye for the cows, for I'm liomesick to see the 
dear cratiirs — them, without the light o' rea- 
son or holy tachia', is faithful to me still." 

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

Peggy was aroused from the stupor of 
anguish by heavy foot-falls on tlie 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, " I'd go too, 



A GREAT SORROW. 129 

and follow the kind misthress all over the 
world, and arn her bread for her. She's afeared 
t%look at a stranger, but Paddy Mannon is not 
— nor a hundred o' 'em." 

Peggy rose up as the cows approached her, 
and throwing her arms around the neck of a 
silver-gray cow, the '' Maid o' Longford," 
which had been Mammy Honey's last gift to 
her, she burst into a flood of blessed tears. She 
pressed her cheek against the silvery neck and 
said, " Och, little ye knows, innocent thing, o' 
my sorrow ! I, that has fed ye so free, has 
nothing to ate myself! I, that has loved ye so 
tinderly, has not a one in all the world to love 
me ! 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 ye a hasty word, — 
Och, 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 
replied ; " but I'll look at ye doin' it, and say 
what I'd like while we're alone. Ye have iver 



130 ' GEMS OF THE BOG. 

been a faithful boy to me, and niver once gave 
ine an onrispictful word. I'd wish to thank ye 
for all yer love in the past. Ye're the oi^ 
friend I have now, Paddy, that I can spake to. 
Yer masthcr promised God and his mother that 
he'd stand 'twixt me and throuble while he had 
life in him. But now it is himself that's put a 
spear in my heart ! Peggy Sheehan's not the 
woman to 'bide in a house and quarrel ; and 
nather is she tlie one to stand silent and see 
her husband's lieart stole from her and his 
honor destroyed entirely ! Ye can do me one 
more service, Paddy dear," — she liad never 
addressed him thus before — " and may be it'll 
be the last yer poor friend will ever ask." 

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

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



A GREAT SORROW. 131 

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

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

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

" Keys ! " cried Paddy, scornfully. " 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 
the old mother the duffel gray cloak over there 



now I 



! " 



Peggy threw up her hands and uttered a 



132 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

Peggy rose to go in' > the cottage. As she 
turned the corner of the cow-lionse, she saw 
John standing there as if waiting for her. She 
did not raise her eyes ; but he joined lier, 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," he 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 here, she 
took all into her hands ! She would nather go 
for my beggin' nor yet for Paddy's abuse ; but 
now ye are come back to us as are the misthress, 



A GEE AT SORROW. 133 

Xe can send her off yerself. Ye know, Peggy, 
Fm 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, 1 
shall never bid her away ! My neighbors shall 
not see me doing what my husband should do, 
and then taunt me with it ! And more nor 
that, I doubt if even ye can drive her out now. 
She tells me ye have promised her a home, 
whinever she wills to 'bide here ! And the 
same tliatch couldn't cover us two ! • 0, John, 
John, why did Mammy Honey lay that fearful 
charge on me, when she said, ' Bring him to 
me at last ; Pll expect that of ye, Peggy.' " 

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



134 GEMS OF TUE BOG. 

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

John followed her to the door ; but he was 
too great a coward, — sin mnkes even the 
bravest men cowards, — to ask her pardon, and 
thrust the intruder forth. He stood there 
weeping ; and when called, he 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 lier own house. But she only 
laughed in his face, and replied that slie was 
quite willing to allow Peggy back, and had even 
offered to let her be mistress still ! 

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



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, which told how little lie liad 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 
home 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 thing 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, — wliere John still sat 

135 



136 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

sleeping, — without stirring the air. She 
dared not look at him, lest her strength might 
fail licr. 

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

As Peggy looked at her poor friend, an in- 
voluntary smile passed over lier pale face. He 
had dressed himself in Daddy Sheehan's 
clothes, to honor the occasion, and was almost 
buried in them. " Dear man," she exclaimed, 
" why do ye make such a figure o' yersilj 
when I cannot laugh as I once did at ye ! 
I've told ye a score o' times to take yon 
clothes to Jock, the tailor, and have them 
made to fit ye. Ye look like a harlequin I " 
And S3 he did ; for tlie tails of the blue coat 
barely cleared the ground, and the pockets 
behind, graced with huge brass buttons, were 
a foot and a half below their proper place. 
The breeches were pushed up in great heavy 



HOMELESS. 137 

folds to make them short enough to buckle 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 refliction on 
the old masther ; the same as sayin' 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 lionors 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 ye 
came first to us, and I lifted it out o' the 
new donkey-cart." 

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



138 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

" Well, misthrcss, darlin'," sobbed Paddy, 
"I'm glad ycr not ravin' wild with tlie throu- 
ble, but I'd be better plazed if ye'd show a 
little more sperit ! Spcrit is a fine thing in a 
woman. I'd hoped that ye'd be roused up a 
little afore ye left, so that ye'd break the look- 
in' 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 en- 
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 repintance afore death 



HOMELESS. 139 

" What ! and so she he let into heaven ? " 
exclaimed Paddy. " I'll not put a foot into it 
myself if she's there ! 'Dade I'll 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 higli seat with him, rather than in 
the 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, " Ye 
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, how 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 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

ocean and bring ye back in my arms — I'd do 
it — wonld I ! But wliere'll I ever find ye ? " 
" Paddy, a lady that Mammy Honey's old 
sister nnrsed when a baby, came to see her, 
and to bring the pension the family 'lowed her, 
when I was tlicrc. They always looked after 
her and loved her, thougli tliey had removed 
far away. Tlie lady was tliat thankfnl for my 
tindcrness that she asked me would I go to the 
great city with her and mind her fable ould 
mother ? I told her I had no nade o' sarvice, 
but was the richest, and proudest, and hap- 
piest wife in our town. She'd be to make me 
take a guinea as a keepsake, and that, with 
three Mammy Honey gave me seven years 
agone to keep agin a rainy day, is what I has 
for my journey now. This lady, Miss Grey, 
said, at parLin', ' Well, Misthress Slieehan, I'm 
glad yc're so comfortable ; but none knows 
what's afore 'cm in life. If ye should iver 
nade 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'." 



HOMELESS. 141 

" Give me the name o' her place ; and after 
the next harvest I'll call and find ye out, and 
spind a week with ye. May be there might be 
a horse-race or a ' fair ' aboot that 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 me ; 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 ye sint word 
to Mr. Murray ? " asked Paddy. 

" How 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 
us all, was 'bidin' on me when I left 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 



142 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

" ' 'Dee'd I will not, ye brazen-faced maid,' 
says he. ' I'll not put my consecrated feet into 
a house where ye arc like a thafe and a 
robber ! Go off to sarvice and arn yer honest 
bread, afore ye break a kind woman's licart. 
I'm to rade ye out o' the church next day ; 
and I've sore work to keep my cane off yer 
slioulders ! ' So himself doesn't countenance 
her no more nor Mr. Murray," said Paddy. 

" No ; he's a dacent oold man, and does as 
well as he knows, may be," replied Peggy. 
" Now mind, I've trusted the powltry and the 
craturs all with ye, and be faithful, and spake 
soft to tliim. But, Oh me, there'll be no prayer 
in the cottage ! Ye and Nan may mumble 
over yer beads ; but John will not dare to 
pray, sore as he nades marcy. I'd bid ye lave, 
were it not that John has a soul. Ye watch 
for the first sigh o' penitence, and manewhiles 
I'll pray day and night that God will take his 






'"^ 




rKCGTS GOdD-CVK Id TATIDY. 



HOMELESS, 14i 

feet out o' the net afore he die ; and if so be, 
who knows but He'll let me bring him safe 
to her at last, as she bid me." 

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

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

" So He is, too," answered Paddy ; " but I 
hears the great, lumberin' 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 the 
driver. 

Giving Peggy his hand to assist her to a 
seat beside him, the man said, " Yer for an 
earl^ start, good wife ; " and then looked in 
amazement at her, as, leaning down from her 
perch, she grasped the rough hand of her poor 
friend, and exclaimed, '' May the Lord reward 
ye for yer love and pity to me with the salva- 
tion o' yer soul, dear man. God in heaven 
bliss ye, Paddy Mannon ! " 



144 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

" 'Dade ye're not, but to a fine lady's house, 
as a nurse, my man ! But slie's a dale throu- 
bled about laving her ilcgant home. So do ye 
be tinder o' her, or I'll take yer life next day," 
said Paddy. 

Tlie 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 thing God has made. 
We and the duml) craturs is all His work, 
and all sufferers, too, under the hand o' man. 
Be marciful to thim as He is marciful to us." 

And tliey drove ofT, leaving Paddy wailing 
and sobbino; on the roadside. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 

"TT'S heavy whaling the day, misthress," 
X 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 yer 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 waitiii' ye 
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 

145 10 



14G GEMS OF THE BOG. 

o' lis. Some gets it all in a liape and has 
liard fare afterward ; and some gets it 
sprinkled along through life. The last's been 
my lot. I've liad hard woi'k from a lad up, 
till my hack'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 1 arned, and always met me with a 
smile, whether my hand was empty or full. 
By-and-by more luck come in the shape o' 
little folk ; they came faster than the l)read 
did, Ijiit they never lacked. If any went 
■ Imngry, it was ^lolly and me. 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 off, 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 yer 



SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 147 

know its luck to ride witli Barney's horses ? 
and it* ycr pui'so is low, my good girl, it will 
iiiver be a larihiiig luwei* for inc. Til give ye 
the ride and wilcome and say a good word 
for ye at the end o' the journey, where I puts 
up these seven year." 

'' Yer too kind, friend," replied Peggy. 
" If I was nady I'd acce})t yer offer as if yc 
was my brother ; but IVe several guineas o' 
money, and a })lace to go into when I arrive in 
the great town." 

"Tlieu I can't sec what on artli makes ye 
cry. If ycr a maid, ye cannot have buried 
husband or child," said the wagoner kindly. 

"All, sir, I've lost both. I first buried tlio 
swatest mother God ivcr gave a })oor girl, and 
then a dear lanibic o' a boy that I tuk mother- 
less to my bussum. But them was small loss, 
because it was so asy to see God's hand in 
tlicir goin'. I've lost the other now, but not 
in the grave. Yer too kind to ask me more. 
Listen patient now, while I tell ye the idee I 
lias about luck. I calls it ' Providence,' and 
whether it comes in sunshine or in' black 



148 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

cloud, I sees God's face in it. I can say, with 
yon holy David, ' Goodness and marcy have 
followed mo 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 lias Him in liis soul, — Hiui tliat 
sticketh closer nor a brother. When I 
was livin' at my ase. Him tliat sees tlie end 
from tlie begiuning was preparin' a table afore 
jne in presence o' my inimies. Aud He it was 
that led ye, too, througli l)otli bog and pastur', 
that ye might see His hand and come and taste 
o' His love. He gave yer wile and babies in 
marcy, and He tuk the Iambics in the same 
marcy, to draw the parents' heart after them. 
^Don't, then, call yer joys aud throubles ^ luck,' 
like a hathen, but call them tlie dalins' o' God 
with ye.'' 

" Why, my good woman, ye're a Methodis, 
sure. I niver heerd the like talk from another 
but thim ! " cried the wagoner, looking in sur- 
V'ise at Peggy. 

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



SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 149 

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

And thus Peggy begniled the way, talking 
in a manner almost miraculous for lier, and 
leading the mind of her rough companion up 
to God. Before night fell she had heard his 
history and given him hers, — all save the one 
sore point on which he was too delicate to 
question lier. She had heard of tlic fcv/ praying 
Methodists in his native town, wlio, he said, 
" were parsecutin' every body to be convarted 
like themselves, and goin' on as if religion 
was the importantist thing in tlie 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 lijaims 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 siiig- 
ings, and the like. But I never tuk mucli to 
thim things ; all tlie religion iver I had," he 
added, " was hathred o' the Catholics, and 
holdin' up my head with pride that I warn't 



150 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

" Dear man, thim poor craturs, wlioso brilli 
is in tlicir nostrils, is no more in God's liand 
nor tlie stubl)le afore tlie fire, and. it's as asy 
for Ilim to bring tlie Pope off his throne into 
the dust, where he'll plade for mercy, as it 
would be to soften ycr 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 attendhig to 
the animals, wliich he dignified by the name 
of " harses," but which bore a remarkable 



SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 151 

resemblance to the mule family, he shouldered 
the box, and, followed by Peggy, made liis way 
i^o Berkely Terrace, with Miss Grey's card in 
his hand. 

Wlien they reached the door and Peggy read 
" Grey " on the thin, broad brass plate, she 
said, " And now we must part, friend. I 
thank ye for yer goodness, so unlike what I 
looked for at the startin', when I heerd an oath 
and saw the blow ye give the craturs ! Niver an 
oatli did I hear from ye, nor yet a blow but that 
one. If ye don't love nor fear the Lord for His 
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'U find Peggy Sheehan. Farewell." 

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

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



152 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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

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

" Peggy, I have not left my mother's room 
for seven nights," said Miss Grey. '• Her 
nurse has no patience and I must soo that all 
are gentle with her." 

" Och, but I'll have hapes o' patience, and 
ye may now slape asy, sure that 111 be as 
tinder o' her as if she was the gentlest lady in 
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 



SOWIXG BY THE WAYSIDE. 153 

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



CHAPTER XI Y. 

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 he sprang over the stile he heard Nan 
call out from the door, " Yer 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, 
masther?" asked Paddy, assuming an air of 
jocoseness. 

" Not yet, Paddy ; I'll wait till Peggy comes," 
he replied. 

" Will ye ? Och, then, ye'll shtarve to dith, 
I can promise ye that," replied Paddy, with a 
smart nod of his head. 

"Do ye know where she is?" asked John. 

154 



MISERY IN THE COTTAGE.* 155 

" 'Dadv^ I do," was the answer. 

John lo-oKed at him, expecting to hear that 
she had taken refuge with Mrs. Murray, or 
some of her other friends in Cloynmally. But 
Paddy began to whistle carelessly, and to pre- 
pare his humbl© breakfast. 

The wretclied man groaned aloud, but still 
Paddy wliistled a gay tune, as if to make him 
as miserable as possible by contrast with his 
own mirth. 

" Where is yer 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 tuV oatli to do it afore Crod^s altar I 
Now ! " cried Paddy, triumphantly. 

" Whist, man ! " exclaimed John. " Do ye 
know wlio ye're talkin' to ? " 

" To i/ersilf, masther. Do 7/e know who 
ye're talkin' to ? Becase I can tell ye it's a 
small excuse will take me off Daisy Farm now ! 
My riputation's at stake, and as I've always 



156 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

lived with dacent people, I'm resalved 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 Jolm groaned. He felt that tlie poor, 
simple work-liouse Ijoy, whom he liad from 
boyhood both despised and patronized, was 
now his superior and his master, looking down 
on him with contempt. He knew, also, that 
Paddy was possessed of a secret which he had 
not power to extort from liim ; and, with his 
liead Ijowed and his hands clasped behind liim, 
he went to his work in the field without break- 
ing his fast. 

At nightfall, when Paddy returned from the 
peat-bog where he liad been all day at work, 
he seated liimself on tlic 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 he could hear 
without being seen. 

" Nannie, I'd beg ye on my bended knees 



MISERY -IN THE COTTAGE. 157 

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

" The cottage is big enough for us both," 
replied Nan ; " but she's that selfish that she'll 
liave the whole or none ; so she's tiik the last. 
^She'll run back when the first strange man 
looks her in the face ! " 

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

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

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

" Ye've none left to be hurted," she said. 
" Only this morning I heerd two lads say o' ye, 
'There's the Protestant church of Killyrooke.' 
Yer character is gone, but a man may live 
without tJiat, if he has enough to ate. Keep 
ye asy now, and I'll tind to yer cottage and 
dairy, for Peg gave me all her nate ways." 

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



158 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

off to Ameriky, to be rid of ye. I hates ye, 
and yer whole race, for the evil yeVe brought 
on this house and on my name." 

By tliis time Nan, deaf to his words, was 
singing in a merry voice a snatch of a nonsen- 
sical song, as if he was not worth replying to. 

Poor, miserable, irresolute dupe that John 
was ! He saw that liis wife was heart-broken 
and gone, and his character ruined, and he gave 
up 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 Nan installed as mis- 
tress, liad lied for ever ; and there were few of 
either church so heartless as not to pity the 
suffering v.'ifc, and to censure those who had 
so 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 liat 
drawn over his eyes, and turned away from 
every neighbor he met, without saluting him. 
He forsook his seat in God's house, and cast 



MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 159 

aside even the forms of religion. He would 
not go to market, but trusted Paddy with his 
business and his money. He felt his degrada- 
tion not only when former friends turned from 
liim, but more so when the very beggars, who 
had always found a- welcome at the cottage, 
passed it by without a glance. His only 
visitors now were tlie family and the 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 Avent 
off with these friends, as she often did, to 
merry-makings for a week or more at a time. 
Then Paddy would return to the table and to 
his old bed in the loft ; and John would grow 
strong, and prophesy that she would never re- 
turn. But when her money was gone, and she 
was weary with tramping about, back she 
would come, causing John to turn pale, and 
Paddy to flee, as if she were a phantom of the 
pestilence. 

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



160 GEMS OF THE BOG- 

spoken her name to John, and if his master 
littered it, he would say, " Take care ! ye'll 
burn ycr tongue if ye spake o' yon one." 
Seeing liow the name of his mother stung him, 
Paddy took a savage delight in calling up her 
memory and licr instructions, whenever they 
were at work together. " Will, will ! " lie 
Avould 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 thiidcin' o' tarnin' 
Protestint mysilf, when I sees what ilcgant 
Christians that church makes ! Yis, yis, we're 
makin' good headway, you and me, masther, 
to where she is now. It's a strange tiling, 
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 



»■ 
MISERY IN THE COTTAGE. 161 

" the travels " he was constantly holding up as 
a threat, and the poor, erring man felt that 
there he would not have a mortal to speak to. 

Just before Paddy went, 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," 
shouldered his oaken staff, and set off appar- 
ently in high dudgeon. When at the end of 
a week " he came back for his bundles," John 
went to the cow-house and implored him not 
to forsake him. By some cunning on Paddy's 
part, and an offer of higher wages on John's, 
the 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 place. 



CHAPTER XV. 

ON THE MOUNT. 

THERE is a high point in tho Christian's 
upward journey whence he may look down 
on all below as on the playthings of* childhood, 
or the vain pleasures of youth. Even the 
things which belong to liimself lose their size 
and tlicir importance in the distance, and fade 
into nothingness, in comparison with the calm 
glories by wliich he is surrounded on the 
mount. The home that once he 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 lie has been favored. The treasures 
of gold, or merchandise, or harvest, all grow 
poor in the eyes of him who has the earnest of 

162 



ON THE MOUNT. 163 

heaven and its eternal wealth already in his 
soul. Sorrows, as well as joys, are regarded 
with other eyes than of yore. The grave 
where 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 chain. As h^ 
learns more of His holiness and mercy, he 
casts away his fears, and trusts the wanderer* 
with Him. Even if their sun may seem to set 
in darkness, he still sees " light in His light,'* 



164 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

and bows to His will, sure that the Judge of 
the whole earth will do riglit. 

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

To this summit our humble heroine rose 
on that night when, filer a fearful struggle, 
she gave up her motlitjr to God, and kissed the 
rod whicli had so sorely smitten her. And 
although at times dark clouds had ^gatlicrcd 
around and obscured the light for a little 
season, she had never descended again to the 
dark valley where before she 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 activity she forgot, 
in a measure, her own sorrows. Love to 



ON THE MOUNT. 165 

others, and earnest efforts to carry that love 
out into action, are sovereign bahns for the 
wounded spirit. 

Peggy possessed that rare faculty of lighten- 
ing every body's burdens while seeming to do 
but little. Without any bustle or stir she had 
become sole nurse for the poor failing mother 
of Miss Grey. 

The servants were not slow to see how their 
own toil was lessened ; and so, from selfish 
motives if from no other, they treated 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, whose presence would be a great com- 
fort to them all, and had bidden the servants 
to address her as " Misthress 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 weak- 
ness and trouble. 

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



166 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

*■ 

which at times cast shadows over her mind, 
and left her to grope in the darkness and to 
write bitter things against herself. Her 
earlier life had been one of liealth and of 
activity in all that was good ; bnt the confine- 
ment of years in a siek room liad broken down 
both health and spirits, and liad forced her to 
relinqnish every work Ijnt that of giving. 
And now, forgetting the great labor and sacri- 
fice she liad l)eon making at home, slie looked 
upon herself as an idler in tlie vineyard, a 
cnmbercr of the ground. 

When quiet and order were restored to tlie 
house after the death of Mrs. Grey, Peggy 
thought her work was done in Berkeley Ter- 
race. One day, after many tlianks 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 liere, 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 'sylum, 
where old people war to be humored like 



ON THE MOUNT. 167 

cliilder, or where little ones war to be tiuded 
and rared up, I'd like it well. My heart's 
that full o' desire for work, that I be draming 
o' nights that I'm gatherin' flocks o' little 
childer in my arms and coverin' 'em up with 
my shawl from the wind and the storm. I'd 
be glad to make sunshine in some place like o' 
them, and so, may be, I might lade some wan- 
derer, great or small, to the heaven that 
seems just at my hand. Dear lady, it is so 
near my sperit, that when I shuts my eyes I 
feels that I'm in it a'ready ! " 

" Well, Misthress Sheehan,'' replied Miss 
Grey, " I have an hospital and an asylum all 
ready for you. I'm ' patient ' enough to begin 
with. I need all your care and skill for the 
present ; and when my health is improved so 
that I can return to my old labors, we will 
look after my poor people and friendless little 
children. I am not asking you to remain here 
for your sake, but for mine. If you leave me, 
I must have some one in your place ; and who 
can be such a nurse for both body and mind ? 
I shall call you my friend and companion, and 



168 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

while you help me, I may be able to help 
you." 

" Och, but that would be work for the heart, 
mdade ! 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 liave done nothing for 
them but to send tlicir little pittance weekly. 
We will look them all up attain and see to 
their wants. One of them is blind ; to her you 
can read the Bible she loves so much." 

'-^ Och, dear lady, but ye knows well liow I 
stumbles at tlie long words. Ye mind wliat 
work 1 made with the liard names the day the 
poor old lady, yer mother, w^ould have me 
read about the handwritin' on the wall." 

'* Well, pass over those parts till you prac- 
tice more," said Miss Grey. '^ There are 
many beautiful chapters and psalms without a 
hard word in them." 

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



OJSf THE MOUNT. 169 

rant bodies like me. All about tlie Lord Jesus 
and His salvation is as plain as the 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 
liivy laden, and I will give you rest.' It's 
just the very book for the poor and simple ; 
and I'll strive to read it better, that I may get 
a hearin' for it whenever I goes among yer 
poor and sick ones." 

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

" My brother's regiment, was recalled from 



1.70 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

India some years ago, and he brought homo 
with him a young Englishman as his at- 
tendant, who had been one of his subordin- 
ate officers. He was very amusing, and had 
curious arts for killing time in the camp, 
which 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 lie were not a reasoning man. Being 
now discharged from the army, he lived on 
from day to day, always proposing to leave the 
house to begin some work, but not doing so 
for months. 

" Against the advice and entreaty of her 
mother and the commands of mine, Fanny 
married this Sam Wells and went with him to 
England, where he admitted he had neither 
home nor prospects. Well, like many other 
simple girls, she found out her error when too 
late. She came back to her mother three or 
four years afterward, with two pretty babies, 
saying that he had gone to look for work, and 
would soon come for her. 



ON THE 310 UN T. 171 

" We provided a room for her in a house 
near bj, and did all in our power to rouse her 
to do something for herself. But she was 
always looking for her husband, and getting 
ready to follow him at a moment's notice. 
We could not learn that he had been unkind 
to her, but felt sure he would never provide for 
her ; and so we 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 begged for a guinea to take her to 
the seaport where the men-of-war were lying. 
Leaving her little ones with a kind widow who 
lived in the house with her, she set off, and 
was never heard of afterward. We feared at 
first that she had met her husband, and with 
him had deserted the children ; but we finally 
decided, from her excited manner when she 
left lis, that she had destroyed herself in a fit 
of discouragement. Her poor old mother paid 
out all her wages for the board of the little 



172 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

girls, and I clotlicd them. But Betty 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 liaving brought 
the young man to tlie house, and he paid their 
board while he lived. Since his death, I have 
done so, but I fear tliey are sadly neglected for 
all that. Previous to my mother's sickness we 
had discussed several plans for their benefit, 
none of wliicli could be carried out tlicn. I 
have thought that, perhaps, after we arc all 
a little rested, you would take the care of 
them. We shall have this large house to our- 
selves, and can easily spare two rooms for 
tliem. Their taljle could be spread willi yours, 
and you could teach and train them as you 
please — you may have them for your children, 
if you like, and I will bear all their expenses." 

Peggy threw up lier hands in amazement, 
and then clasped them tightly, and raised her 
eyes in thankfulness toward heaven. 

'•Och, but there would be work for a 



ON THE MOUNT. 173 

quane ! " she said, "and I'd niver weary o' 
lovin' and laborin' for the poor lambies. 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." 

Mis^ Grey soon changed Peggy's peasant-lrke 
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 
thick cambric caps, with full, broad frills, were 
exciianged 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; but her face was far paler and thinner 
than 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." 



174 QEM8 OF TH^ BOG, 

At the lirst sight of their sad little faces, 
Peggy took them both to her heart. They wore 
that depressed look which told there had been 
no play for them, and they moved about as if 
fearful of tlie souud of their own footfalls. The 
poor things had been well fed and clothed and 
sheltered by Miss Grey\s generosity ; but thoy 
had not Ijccn loved or potted ; and these are as 
im})ortant items in the training of a merry, 
happy cliild as are food and clotliing. If they 
had been defrauded of this hitherto, they were 
to be fully repaid in tlic 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 
seemed not to belong by right to blue eyes and 
fair hair. Marion, four years and a half old, 
who called herself " Madie," was a sweet, 
curly-headed child, who seemed ever craving 
the lost attentions which are the just due of 
babyhood. She had not been ten minutes in 
the house; before she had climbed on Peggy's 



ON THE MOUNT. 175 

knee to stroke her motherly face, and to say, 
" Pretty, kind lady ; Madie loves you, and will 
be a good child." 

A happy and useful 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 
her 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 all 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 the 
pleasant old stories in verse by Jane Taylor. 
When they grew weary, she took first one and 
then the other on her knee, and sang to them, 
or amused them with the toys and pictures 
Miss Grey had provided. This sudden transit 
from a gloomy room in a tenement, where were 
three or four baby boarders younger than 
themselves, who must never be wakened by a 



176 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

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, " I lave him 
in Tliy hand, and where could be a safer 
place ? " 



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, who was patient in her 
tribulation, but in tribulation still. 

Great changes had now taken place in the 
humble little hamlet of Killyrooke, both by 
death and emigration. 

The 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 
effort, and so, one day, without any other ai> 
parent cause, he slipped out of life. 

A year previous to this event, his two eldest 

12 177 



178 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

boys, who had long been impatient to get off 
to Australia, but could never get money 
enough for their passage, were unexpectedly 
treated to the voyage at tlie expense of a gener- 
ous Government. Tlie liaste in the case was 
owing to some little "irregularities" in tlieir 
business — the deer-trade ; in ,which they were 
accused by the owner of Harpley Hall, of 
living on his venison rather than on their own 
potatoes. 

The younger boys who were large enough 
to work were put out by the parish officers, and 
the improvident motlier 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 traces of 
that poor home of sin and sorrow. 

The intruder at Daisy Farm Iiad been stoutly 
affirming for two years past tliat 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 
respectal)lc among the people kept aloof from 
her, and Fatlier Clakey had twice ordered her 



^JV AWAKE^^ED CONSCIENCE. 179 

out of the church. This caused her great un- 
easiness, as 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, 
and sent them back to her w^ith many bitter 
reproofs. 

Paddy had well nigh lost heart ; he had cer- 
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, having been reproved for careless- 
ness in trimming a hedge, he turned upon 
John, saying, " Don't ye be rebukin' me for an 
onfaithful sarvant ! I'm honest and upright, 
and can look every man in Ireland square in 
tl*e eye, and that's more nor my masther can 
do ! My sperit's fearful roused, and I warn ye 
it's dangerons triflin' with an angered lion ! 
Some day ye'll find ather yersilf murdered, or 
poor Paddy drownded in the lough. So ye'll 
add murder to yer other sins." 



180 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

John groaned, and walked away a few steps. 
Then he turned back, and said, "■ Och, Paddy, 
Paddy, if ye but knew tlie anguish o' my heart 
ye'd pity me place o' 'torturiii' me thus ! If 
ye, or Mr. Murray, or any other oue thinks I'm 
at ase, ye're sore mistaken. I'd lay down my 
life this liour to make my peace with God and 
poor dear " 

" Hi, there ! " cried Paddy, " don't let me 
licar that name. Why don't ye lay down yer 
life, then, or do somethin' else ? " 

" What shall I do ? " cxclaim.'d Jolin. 

" Say yer prayers," replied Paddy. 

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

'* 0' course it does ! " cried the poor fellow. 
" Did ye think God would hear ye and sind ye 
pace till ye first make a turn o' things at the 
cottage ? Tliat would be like a poacher askin' 
pardou o' the glutleman at the Hall, at the 
same *^ime lie was loadin' his gun to slioot 
more deer." 



AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 181 

Joliii leaned against the stile wliere Paddy 
was sitting, pipe in mouth, taking his evening 
rest ; and the tears ran down his cheeks. 

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

" I wish ye hadn't," answered his reprover. 

" I dramed last night that ye drove off the 
sarpint, and that then the black cloud rolled 
away, and the sun shone aboove us all, and 
that Mammy Honey came back to 'bide with 
lis, and to watcli us that we'd never fall into 
sin more," said John, mournfully. 

" Tush ! " cried Paddy, scornfully. " A man 
more nor six feet high, weighin' two hundred 
pound, might behave himself civil without his 
blissed mother lavin' heaven, where she's so 
comfortable, to come and look after him ! But 
I'm glad to see yer heart gettin' a bit soft, 
aven at this late day, and if it hadn't been 
made o' flint it would ha' melted long ago. 
Think o' the holy tachin' o' yer mother, and 
the fine example o' myself.''^ 

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

" Do ye remember the old fable o' the rat 



182 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

that was caught in a trap ? Slic ate her own 
head off rather tlian give tlie waitin' cat tlic 
satisfaction o' doin' it! Now if ye can tliink 
o' no hotter way o' escape, jump into tlie lougli 
and drown yerself," remarked Paddy, com- 
posedly. 

" But I liave a soid^ man ! " cried John. 

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

"I'm not a Christian andniverwas, Paddy." 

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

'' Not just quite a hatlien," replied his mas- 
ter. 

" What are ye, then ?*" 

" Pm 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 he'st days ? " 

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

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



Ali AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 183 

hear Mr. Murray's voice again in the church, 
and to get a kind word from his lips," said 
John, mournfully. 

" Well, the church door is open and his 
tongue is not palsied yit, I belave," replied 
Paddy. " But if ye'.d like a sarmoii from one 
that's nather priest nor parson, ye'll get it by 
goin' to the lough on Sunday next. There's a 
fine young jintleman stoppin' at Mr. Mur- 
ray's, that 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 
like, that he'll be there among thim. He's 
been at games witli the Cloynmally boys the 
week gone, pitchin' quoits ; and they say he's 
a fine hand at a game." 

" We'll go to hear him, Paddy," said John, 
" and may be he'll put a bit o' strength into 
me."' 

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



184 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

"Ocli, but he may have a bigger and 
stronger heart nor I," said John. 

" Ycry like he has, or it's a poor one," re- 
turned the reprover, in language more faithful 
than delicate. 

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

" Because the Protestant Bible taches to 
show marcy to the marciful only. And on 
thira grounds wliat right have ye to ask or ix- 
pect tinder regards from a vartuous and oncra- 
ble man like mesilf ! " 

" Yer mistaken, Paddy. It says, ' Blissed 
are the 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 asthray 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 ye ; so 
I'll kape ye waitin' for consolation till ye sees 



AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 185 

this new-come jintleman ; I thin will fall on 
him with puzzlin' questions on religion, and 
see what he's made on ! If there's ony pluck 
in him 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 
shameful and disgraceful and onrispictable one 
to intertain company with ! We'll be first at 
the lough, masther, on Sunday, waitin' him 
there." 



CHAPTER XYII. 

LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH. 

ON the following Sunday afternoon a crowd 
gathered around the lough, the usual 
rallying-place when mass and dinner were 
over. They had Ijeen warned against listening 
to heresy ; but curiosity was stronger than 
fear. Some came to hear about games in 
England ; some to look 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 jintleman " of 
twenty-one or two, with a very slender frame, 
and a face as fair and delicate as a girl's. F" 



LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH 187 

held a book in his hand, the sight of which 
caused alarm at once. 

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

Tlie words caught the young man's ear, but 
not letting that be known, he said, " Good-day, 
friends. What a beautiful place you have 
here for rest and exercise I I never saw a 
lovelier sheet of water than this, nor a more 
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 here 
on Sunday, and so I've come to see you, and 
talk a little to you about things tliat 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 riglit." 

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



188 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

styled " the village child's-nurse," as his ten 
pupils were too young to learn from books. 

" This book, friend, is the Douay version of 
the Bible, prepared l)y a Catholic priest and 
used 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 tlie crowd. 
" Yes, I am." 

"Then in what can ye agree with us?" 
asked the schoolmaster, who regarded himself 
as the spy and watchman of the liour. 

" 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 
the sun and the rain to ripen our harvests, 
that we may have bread, and so live ? " 
" Oh, sure, we 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 



LAT-PREACHING AT THE LQUGH. 189 

world, and that He died on the cross to save 
all who trust in Him, don't you ? " 

" 0' course we belaves that." 

" Yes, yes." " Indade we does ! " were the 
varied replies. 

" And so do I. And you believe in the 
Virgin Mary, too, don't you ? " 

" Ay, do we ; 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 



190 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

on which we think alike. You believe in 
Peter, don't you ? " 

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

" You believe that he wrought miracles ? " 

"Surely; all tlic saiiits do that." 

" Would you like to hear from your own 
Bible how Peter and John healed the lame 
man at the gate of tlie temple ? " 

" Are you just sure it's not the Protest^ant 
Bible?" asked a timid-lo(jking man in the 
crowd. 

" Quite sure, friend. You may take it and 
^\\o\y it to Father Clakey, and if he says it is 
nut tlie one he uses, but a Protestant version, 
you may do what you please with it." 

So they all sat motionless while he read 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 he 
closed the book, he said, " You notice, friends, 
that when Jesus saw the multitude He had 
compassion on them. It is not on them alone, 
but on us here, and on all who arc in want 



LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH. 191 

and sorrow. His compassion lias not failed 
now that He has returned to His glory. He 
still hears and sees, and is ready to grant what 
we need. That multitude were hungry. Is 
there any one here who ever knew what it was 
to be hungry, when there's no food in the cot- 
tage and no money to buy any ? " 

u xj ! " " 'Deed there is ! " " Few but has 
known it, sir ! " " Ye've heard, in England, 
o' the famine we had here when the potatoes 
failed, and the great sickness came ? " These 
were among the many answers to his question. 

" Yes, I've heard all that." 

" I wonder if there's one here hungry 
to-day ? " he asked. 

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

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

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



192 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Who's that, boys ? " asked 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 
still another for any one that's poor or sick. 
But Fni snre all tliat can work liave too mnch 
honor to take what sliould be given to tho 
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 there is any one 
here with other troubles, remember Jesus is 
among us, and He has compassion on you." 

'• Plase, 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 the cruel Jews were crucifying her 
Son. He pitied her, and He told John to take 
her for his mother, and to comfort her, and he 
did so. He will comfort you too, if you ask 



LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH. 193 

Him, and fill your soul with His love, so that 
you can think with joy of your baby, and of the 
time when you shall take it again in those 
poor aching 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 he said, " Let me say to each one of 
you, no matter what your sorrow is, — or your 
sins, either, — Jesus has compassion on you." 

All this time John and Paddy had been sit- 
ting under a willow behind the stranger. 
Paddy now touched his elbow and said, 
" 'Dade, sir, if I should till ye my throubles, 
ye'd niver belave me. Ye'd think I was makin' 
up lies to amuse ye ! " The young man pro- 
bably saw that it would be like letting loose a 
torrent, if he began to talk with one who bore 
so little resemblance to a mourner ; so he just 
bade- liim remember what he 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 QEMS OF TIJE BOG. 

out, " But, sir, we licard you was to tell us 
about the games ye have iu EuglauJ. Will 
ye stop a bit and try a hand at pitchin' 
quoits ? " 

" Not to-day, my good fellow ; God gives us 
six days to ourselves, but on this one, the first 
day of the week, on which tlic Saviour rose 
from the dead, lie commands us not to do our 
uwn works nor think our own tlioughts, 
hut to keep it holy unto llim. Come here at 
sunset on Tuesday, and I will meet you as a. 
l)()y, at healthful sport. To-day 1 came as a 
Christian, to tell you of Ilim whom my soul 
loveth, and whom I want the whole world to 
love. Take this Bible, schoolmaster, and make 
sure 1 have not deceived you." 

As lie turned to go, John rose and followed 
llim. " You don't think, sir," he said to him 
iu a low tone, " that He could have compassion 
o\\ mc. 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' me — John Shee« 
han." 

" No, never," replied the young man. 



I 



LAY-PREACHING AT THE LOUGH. 195 

"Ye haven't? Why, I thought the whole 
world had heerd o' me aiidf was cursiu' me by 
this time ! Didn't Mr. Murray tell ye o' me, 
and o' the disolation I had made in the church 
and the home ? " 

'' Not a word, friend ; but unless your sins 
are redder than scarlet and deeper than crim- 
son, Jesus has compassion on you, and will 
forgive you." 

" Well, sir, will ye ask Mr. Murray if lie 
thinks there is power enough in Heaven to, 
forgive me, without destroying the justice of 
God?" 

" I will ask him, my poor man, and he will 
say, ' Yes,' and Jesus will say unto you, ' Thy 
sins are forgiven thee ; go and sin no more.' " 

Had Protestants built a church in Killyrooke 
and sent a minister to preach in it, they could 
not thus have accornplished as much for the 
people as did that almost boy, with his heart 
full of love for Christ and of zeal in His service. 
The Bible was pronounced a " Catholic " one 
by the priest, and so the stranger's word was 
verified. 



196 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

Tlic compassion of Jesus and the miracles 
by which He proved it were the themes in 
many a poor home that Sunday niglit ; and 
during the three or four week§ of his college 
vacation, tliat young lay-preaclicr did a great 
work for those cottagers. lie l)roke down the 
barriers, so that after that, any man whom 
tliey respected could get an audience at the 
lough, while he read portions of Scripture from 
the Douay version anl made comments on it; 
care bein^ used not to arouse prejudice or fear 
by openly assailing the Romish church. 



CHAPTER XYIII. 

A VISIT OF MERCY. 

TT THEN the young stranger returned to the 
f T parsonage, he reported his doings to Mr. 
Murray, who had been tod wise to accompany 
him. When he delivered John Sheehan's 
message, 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 
have no hope for him ! He ran well when none 
hindered, but^ lie was a poor, weak creature, 
without Christian principle. His parents were 
pillars in the church, though poor and unlet- 
tered folk. His mother was as nearly a saint 
as any mortal who ever walked the eartli. 
They held him up, perhaps too much. 

" If one was kept in a standing-stool till ho 

10-' 



108 GEMS OF Tin-: BOG. 

was fully grown, without ever using his own 
limbs, I think he would fall as soon as he at- 
tempted to stand alone ; at all events, the first 
thrust from a foe would lay him low ; and once 
down, he 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 we 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 wlicn surrounded l)y all that is ungodly. 
The course this last one of the race has pur- 
sued, has outraged the feelings of even tlie 
rude and ignorant Papists about him, and 
brought contempt on the Protestant faith. I 
went three times to pull him, if might be, out 
of the fire, but he made off and would not see 
me at all, as if well pleased with the fetters in 
which Satan had bound him. If he is ever 
humbled and needs 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. 



A VISIT OF MERCY. 199 

" You may think I am severe," he conthmed, 
" hut you never saw the happy home he has 
made desolate, nor the saint-like woman who 
lias meekly forsaken it without 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 zeal. 
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 
so low," replied the good minister, rebuked by 
tlie faith of his friend.- 

'^ You know brands have to be j^Zz^c^ec? from 
the burning, sir. They cannot walk forth 
from the flames themselves," continued the 
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 BOC?. 

* 

caube of stumbling to many. Perhaps he ought 
to have a helping hand, but if I should go to 
him it might heal the wound too slightly. I 
care not how sorely he suffers, nor how long. 
As he opened his mind to you, how would it 
do for you to take his case in hand, and 
learn whether he is really repentant, or only 
longing for his old peace and respectability 
again ? " 

" If you will trust me, sir, I will talk with 
the poor man gladly, for his pale face has 
haunted me ever since he whispered those 
words in my ear," replied the young man. 

'' Well, as you have promised to meet tlie 
boys at the lough on Tuesday, take the cottage 
on your way home, sending my boys on before 
yOu," said Mr. Murray. 

" Would it not be a good work to close this 
Sabbath with, sir ? To-morrow or Tuesday he 
may be off in his fields, or at market, or — or 
— 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 
fi-jld at any moment. I have hardly dared to 



A VISIT OF MEECT. 201 

speak the word ' to-morrow ' for six mouths 
past, in reference to work for souls," replied 
the youth, solemnly. 

Mr. Murray looked up in surprise at " the 
boy," as he called him, and replied, " Yes, if 
you are not too weary, go now, and forget what 
1 liave said calculated ' to discourage you, re- 
membering only that He will not break the 
bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. If 
you see one spark of repentance, fan it ; but 
warn him not to feign sorrow for sin, under a 
desire to regain liis 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 be 
faithful without being too merciful." 

" You are sure Jie will not ' smite off the 
right ear' instead of saying, ' Go and sin no 
more ' ? " asked the young man. " I fear that 
old man, with his stern sense of justice, may 
lack the charity that covers a multitude of 
sins." 

" Well, then, my dear boy, send Sheehan to 



202 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

me, if ho desires help ; and I will strive to read 
his case," replied the minister. 

Mr. Murray took his hat and cane, and 
walked on with* his friend as fur as the little 
churcliyard whicli 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 his hand on a plain slate 
headstone, saying, " Here sleeps the mother 
of tliis man — a woipan of whom the world 
was not worthy." 

And then in a few words he told the story 
of her strong, pure life, and ended by a recital 
of her son's indignation over her open grave, 
Ijccause a half-idiot had pronounced her safe 
in heaven — the only one there of the race or 
name ! " And yet, see what he has done for 
her honor," he said. " Now go on, my boy ; 
you will have the moon for your company 
home, and may God go with you, and put 
words into your mouth." 

The young stranger stooped and plucked a 
briar twig and three shamrock blossoms from 



A VISIT OF MERCY. 203 

the mound where Mammy Honey was sleeping, 
and then passed down the solitary road which 
lay between the village of Cloynmally and the 
hamlet of Killyrooke. 

He knew the cottage, — which had been des- 
cribed to him, — by tlie little glass window, 
which 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 w^as 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 ! " 



f 

204 GEMS OF TUE BOG. 

" Surely," lie coiitiiiued, rising to meet tho 
stranger, on avIiosc uncovered head the moon 
was shining, " this is not the young jintleman, 
come to visit the sperit in prison ? Did ye 
give my message to dear, dear Mr. Murray, 
sir ? " asked John, looking earnestly in his 
face. 

" Yes." 

"And what said lie? — that there was one 
ray of hope for uje in the world to come ? In 
this world I do not look for peace ! " 

'^He said, my friend, ihat but for the 
abounding mercy and tlic free grace of God lie 
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 hap[)iiicss — there is hope." 

' Jolm took tho gentleman's hand in both his 
own, and leading him to a chair, exclaimed, 
" 1 will lay my heart bare before ye and tell ye 
all; and thin if ye think God can listen, I'll 
ask ye that has a liearin' at the marcy-seat, to 
plead with Him for me." 

" I do not want to hear of your sins, poor 



A VISIT OF MERCY. 205 

man. I only want to know that you've for- 
saken them, and are penitent hefore God. He 
came not to call the righteous, but sinners to 
repentance ; and the greater your sins, the 
greater your need of Him, and the greater 
iSaviour he will be to you." 

" Will, will, thin there's a fine chance for 
him , for a huger sinner ye'll 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 jintloman while he talks to us." 

" What is it, friend, that troubles you ? Is 
it that your respectability and peace are gone, 
or that your soul is in 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 entirely. 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 



^OG GEMS OF THE BOG. 

yliut out from the presence o' God and not bo 
able even to call upon Him." 

*' You must pray or you are lost ; no man 
can do tliat for you." 

" Ay, yon is jist what I'm always tillin' him 
— to say liis prayers," said Paddy. " 0' 
course he won't be forgive till he does — 
'' what's worth the takin' is worth the askin' ! " 

" If I could get a ray o' hope, sir," said 
John, without paying the least regard to 
Paddy's spcecli, " 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 
night, nor a smile from mortal, nor even ase 
from pain o' body ! " 

" Ah, you'd buy peace with God by pen- 
ance, like your poor neighbors, would you ? 
But it can not be done. The blood of Jesus 
Christ, and that alone, cleanseth from all sin . 
Do you believe that ? " 

" Ay, I hav^ believed it from my cradle up ; 
but 0711/ sin, sir " 

" Is it greater than all sin, so great that it 



A VISIT OF MERCY. 207 

■* 

outweiglis the promise and the power of God ? 
Take care, my friend, how you limit the ability 
of Him who said, ' All power is Mine in 
lioavcn 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 
hiven war always warnin' ye agin the ' liven 
o' the Pharisees,' and tellin' ye that ye war all 
buried up in yer crops and yer cattle ! Well 
do I remember in those last days how she said, 
' Beware, boy, o' self-righteousness ; let him 
that standeth take hade list he fall.' Poor 
Paddy remembers her holy tachin', if her own 
son don't, and I only a poor workhouse lad 
and a Papisht beside. I'd be under great com- 
pliment to ye, young jintleman if ye'd say yer 
prayers here, seein' 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 forget your own soul, 



'208 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

my poor man, in your care for your master," 
said the gentleman. 

" Ocli, but I'm safe, sir ; I'm a Catholic and 
quite in favor with father Clakey tliese days, 
'count o' the fine way I've beliaved myself in 
the th roubles at Daisy Farm ; though he's a bit 
angered with all the boys for listening to ye at 
tlie lough, the day. He's quite sure that ye 
are ather a clergy or the makin's o' one, — a 
Mctliodis like, that's come out o' England to 
lade us asthray. He's comin' to the play- 
ground a Tuesday to spy ye." 

" I hope he will ; I'd be glad to see him ; but 
at present we have to do with this one ques- 
tion, 'What must I do to be saved?'" said 
the gentleman. 

And far into the night he talked with John, 
and prayed for him, and encouraged him to 
accept the offered pardon, while poor Paddy 
slept in his chair. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

ELDER PETER. 

WHEN John Sheelian parted with the 
young man, in the darkness, at the gate 
of his cottage ; he said, " I'll take yer advice, 
sir, even though the only way to loose the hop- 
ples from my feet be to go forth into the world 
penniless, to arn my bread as a farm servant. 
Many thanks to ye for yer condescinsion 
and y€rr marcy to a poor sinful, sorrowful 
man." 

When he entered the cottage again, he roused 
the sleeping Paddy, wlio started to his feet as 
if in great alarm. After looking about him 
wildly for some seconds, lie 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 

209 14 



210 GEMS OF THE DOG. 

from me or a ^ God bliss ye,' after all the pains 
he's took about gettiii' our sins forgiven ! " 

Paddy took the sins as well as the honors of 
the Sliechans all to himself; and he now felt 
as grateful to the gentleman as if he had been 
the especial oliject of Ids visit. 

" Sit down now and rouse yoursilf like a man 
and listen to me," said John, in a solemn tone. 
" I've promised tliis night that I'll lade a new 
life from tliis hour. I've resolved to break the 
hateful fetters." 

" And }^'ll break yer resolve when yon one 
comes back from the fair and abuses ye, — as 
ye have done a lioondercd times afore," replied 
Paddy, rul)l>ing his sleepy eyes. 

" No, Paddy ; ye and me is free from this 
hour, even if we have to lave the darlin' cottage 
and all in it. I care no more for all this land, 
nor the crops, than for the dust in the road, — 
these treasures that has well nigh cost me my 
80ul," said his master. 

" And where'll we go ? " asked Paddy. 

" We'll go where's work to be had, and liire 



■ELDER PETER. 211 

oujt as farm servants, may be; but I must 
think firstj" 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 off the 
craturs 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 bins were to blame for the ill doin' o' their 
maslher, — he's quite ready to give tJiem 
advice^'' said Paddy. 

" I can go to Mr. Murray, 6ut I'm afeareder 
o' Elder Peter nor of death itself," replied 
Jolm. " He'^ a man o' very holy life, Paddy ; 
and never bavin' fallen himself, he knows not 
liow to pity the sinner. He goes half a mile 
out o' his way to the Hall, o' rent day, rather 
jtlian pass Daisy Farm ; and once when I met 



212 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

him ill the road, he sprang over a thorn hedge 
rather than go by me." 

" Ocli ! he'd made a poor hand at kapin' 
company with tlic Son o' Mary when He was 
on arth ! Didn't llic ould mistliress read us 
fine lessons al)Out Ilim ating witli publicans 
and sinners and the like villyans ? And ye 
mind yon Mary tliat 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 Peter had been 
there, he would ha' been the dith o' all thim 
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 me, 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 
the minister. In the vision o' Mammy Honey, 
— by which I should ha' taken warnin', — ye 
it was that drew the *^izen tooth out o' the 
heart o' love." 

'- I'll soon do that, with yer lave, and like no 



ELDER PETER. 213 

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 ye'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 offended dignity. 

The young stranger made his way liome in 
the darkness, for the moon had set long before 
he left the cottage. As he passed the few poor 
hovels on his w^ay to Cloynmally, the sleepers 
within were startled by hearing a low, sweet 
voice singing in the road, — 

*' The dying thief rejoiced to see 
That fountfiin iii his day : 
0, may I there, though vile as he, 
AVash all my sins away." 

While this earnest young disciple had been 
striving to lead the \^nderer to God, Elder 
Peter, the village stonecutter, had been closeted 
with the minister, looking as hard as the ma- 



214 ^ GEMS OF THE BOG. 

terial he wrought on. ^' Well, sir," he said, as 
he took the offered seat in Mrs. Murray's 
modest litfcle parlor, " I'vq been hearin' strange 
things from mj 'printice lads, o' the doin's 
of this young lad that's stoppin' with yo, 
— such a doin's for tlic Lord's day as I would 
not helavc till I'd first ask yersilf. What's this 
he's doing ? " 

" No evil, I'm sure," said Mr. Murray, re- 
turning the stony gaze of Elder Peter very 
calmly. 

" Well I heered that he'd been at the Killy- 
rooke lough consorting with Papist boys, tell- 
ing them about pitchiu' quoits and ball-playin', 
and that he belaved in the Virgin Mary and 
every thing else they belaved ; and that tliore 
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 Sheehan ! " 

Elder Peter's righteoug indignation had well 
nigh taken away his breath before he got 



' ELDER PETER. 215 

fchrougli 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 argne still." He expressed great sur- 
prise that his minister should have trusted a 
mere boy on such an errand as that on which 
he was now gone. 

" He's jist quite a novice, supposin' he's even 
sincere," he said. " What is he, a soft-hearted 
lad, to set tl^e terrors of the law before that 
offender? He's been at my yard tellin' .me 
about the grfeat awakenin' 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. 
He 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 



216 GE.VS OF THE BOG. 

m 

about the scarlet beast with the seven heads 
and ten horns than a babe unborn ! " 

" But he's a nc\v-l)orn soul, elder; we must 
not look for wisdom in a cliild," replied Mr. 
Murray. 

*' Ay, very good, minister , and ought we to 
put a strong man's work into the hands 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." 

" Ye've done nothing ? Didn't ^x go twice 
or thrice to liiin, 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 the 
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 



ELDER PETER. 217 

7iot prayed for John Sheehan. Do ye not mind 
a passage which reads, ' I say not that ye shall 
pray for these.' I regard him as one of ' these.' 
I met him once in the road, and I scathed him 
with my countenance. 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 faith 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 o' one that ran before he was 
sent ? "• 

" Yes, sir," was the answer. 



218 GEMS OF THE BO (J. 

" Well, and so have I ; aifd I've seen such an 
one, too. Good-niglit, minister ; good-night, 
lad." And the elder walked fortli in all the 
dignity of conscious orthodoxy. 



CHAPTER XX. 

DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 

AFTEE Mr. Murray had talked some time 
witli John on tlic following evening, he 
took him to the cottage of Elder Peter, who 
acted in all church matters as if Peter of early 
fame had placed " tlie keys " in his hand when 
he 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 he 
could invent, put him through a course of 
questioning to test his sincerity and his hu- 
mility. 

" If the church (he meant himself, for all 
the others were meek and tender-hearted) 
should bid ye stand np afore the people for a 
public rebukin', would ye do it ? " he asked, 
sharply. 

219 



220 cr.MS or iii:-: noa. 

'• 1 would, .sir," rei)li(^tl J(^lin, " befcire tliom 
and the Lord too." 

'• If they bid ye go to every Catholic house 
ill Killyrookc, and confess that ye were never a 
Christian, l)ut a liypocrite and a Pharisee, 
would ye do it ? '' 

*• I will do that whether I'm hid or not, sir, 
because 1 owe it to Iliiu whose name I liavo 
disgraced," replied John, huml)ly. 

" If they bid yo'to give all yer goods to feed 
tlie j)()ur, and lave ycrself j)enniless, would yc 
do it?^' And Elder Peter looked shrewdly 
from one corner of his eye, as if sure he had 
now struck the. sore point. 

" I would, sir, and be thankful that I had 
any tiling to give, thus to prove my pini- 
tence," said John. 

" Would ye give yer body to be burned ? " 

"If God bid me do that^ I'd ask Him for 
grace and strength to do it," replied John. 

" Well, and if the church l»id ye, would ye 
promise never to seek yer w^ifo again ? For it 
may be the desire for yer old peace, and not 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 221 

repentance for sin that leads ye here. Would 
ye promise this ? " 

" No, sir, not for ail the churclies 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 lieep on breakin' it. I shall seek 
her at once, and strive to atone 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 frow-ncd. lie was there as an 
inquisitor, and was not to be taught by sucli a 
sinner. " Then you make some resarve in this 
matter ? " lie 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, Sheehan, I liope ye'rc sincere, and 
we'll overlook the past and try to respect ye 
again. Yc may take yer seat in the house o' 
God, next Lord's day, and I'll leave the mat- 



222 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

ter o' the public rebukiii' to the minister's de- 
cision." 

The minister's decision was a very merciful 
one, — that John sliould call at the parsonage^ 
and walk througli the churchyard and into tlie 
cluirch l)y llis si<le. This wonld show the con- 
gregation that he had l)een forgiven and re- 
ceived into favor by tlie minister and elders , 
and would secure their pardon and pity for 
liim. 

Elder Peter's sense of justice was as strong 
as his hatred of sin ; and he said that, evil as 
was the heart of Nan O'Gormau, she ought not 
to be sent forth from tlie cottage penniless, — 
thus perchance to be led into new sin. So lie 
ordered John, with Mr. Murray's approval, to 
place ten 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 laviuG; out the e^arden attached to 
the little parsonage. Matters at the cottage, 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 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." 
Just as soon as John had resolved, in the fear 
of God, to break the chain that bound him, it 
was broken without a blow from his hand. 
The day after he left the cottage, Nan returned 
in high spirits, with two companions, to get her 
clothes, and to say " good-bye to all Killy- 
rooke, — the 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-five mil^s 
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 mes- 
sage from Eider Peter was delivered, with an 
order to appear before him within ten days, or 
the money would be made over to the poor of 
the parish. 



224 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

'*• Ten pounds is a po\s^er o' money ! " ex- 
claimed Nan. " But I would niver go to yon 
elder for it, if it war a thousand! I'll take 
^laid o' Longford instead, and sell her to 
farmer Blaney, wliose wife's long wanted lier ; 
and the ten pound will pay for her." 

'•' When ye drive Maid o' Longford off, yc'U 
diivc the fai-m with her and Paddy Mannou 
standin' on it! My darlin' misthress' own 
cow, indade, that Mammy Honey give lier ! 
Away with ye, or Til liave ye 'rested for a high- 
wayman ! " cried Paddy, in a towering pas- 
sion. 

In an hour, she and her friends were gone, 
a»d Paddy was on his way to bear the joyful 
news to John, and to imjilore him to " send off 
at once for the darlin' misthress, by the b'y 
that knew where to find her without huntin'." 

But 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 within and around 
it. The poultry houses were almost empty ; 
tlie flowers were dead, and the vines Mammy 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 225 

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' ? " 

The lady of Harpley Hall, herself a sad, 
neglected wife, knew the story of Peggy's 
wrongs and her quiet departure. When 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 deer 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 Peggy's return, with 
a message that she should call at the cottage 
some day to see the woman who had always 

15 



226 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

set such good examples to the people on the 
estate. 

Soon after tliis, an old woman in the neigh- 
borliood, 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 wliich slie held tiglitly in her hands. 

" Neighbor John," she said, " I've heard 
tliat the black cloud is l)roke 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 set her in the hin- 
house, that Peggy may have, at least, one little 
brood to feed, — she that loves livin' creatur's 
so 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 Inige' pot of geranium, all 
aflame with flowers. 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 227 

" Here, Mannon," he called over the hedge, 
" set this in yer misthress' little glass window, 
and till her it came with my respects. And 
tnind /bid ye clare up all this 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 suffered 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 sinding 
gifts to the misthress but mysilf. But I've not 
a ha'peth to give. Wouldn't ye suffer 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 offered nather to his 
' riverence ' nor yet to the lady o' the Hall. 



228 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

Take ye the little flax-whocl that she loved so, 
and a bit o' soap. Go down to the lough, and 
there dip the wheel tin times in 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 the lough, and put on fresh flax 
that 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 n- lin." 
•Old Monica set about her work joyfully, and 
vhen it was accomplished, she charged Paddy 
to " tell the misthress, 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 his master came 
into the kitchen, and found him witli 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 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 229 

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 John, with grief in his 
tone. 

" Kape quite asy, masther, and I'll soon 
make all right 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 agaiiT^, 
but* Paddy accomplished it ; and in about tern 
days, with the approval of Mr. Murray, he set 
ofi" on the errand he liad 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 
thought of making so poor an appearance 
when he was going on such important busi 
ness. 

" 'Dade the ould masther's Sunday shute 
won't be new to thim where I'm goin', for 
they've seen thim afore, and were well plazed 



230 QEMS OF THE BOG. 

too, — for tliey all lauglied very pleasant at me, 
— from the granci lady o' the liousc to the 
maids that fed me in the kitchen. It's no 
small farmer's house, nor other workin' man's 
ather, that I'm goiii' to now," he added, toss- 
ing his head proudly, " but to the raal gen- 
try's. There's a brass sign-board — nigh a 
foot long, on the door, with their name on't, 
showin' that it's the importantest thing in the 
world for people that passes to know who lives 
witliin. What's the jjrood o' a lad havin' fiiio 
clothes if he's not to wear tlieni wliin he's 
among fine people ? 'Dade, FU wear no other." 

John offered Paddy money to go in the post- 
chaise, Init he scorned it as an insinuation of . 
weakness. 

" I've been nigh forty year boastin' that I 
could keep pace with post-horses on my own 
two feet, and it would be a beggarly thing 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. 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 231 

*' Mind ye tell her, Paddy, that there's niver 
been a sunbame in my heart since she left it ; 
that I've been hourly mournin' after her, but 
was too wake to break the chain. Tell her 
how I forsook God's house and shunned his 
people ; and tell her all about the last sorrow 
in my soul for sin ; and tell her about the 
young jintleman from the college that led me 
to see 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 left 
there, but a man humbled in the dust and 
afeared to live lest he sin more agin 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've had 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." 



232 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" I'm not so sure o' that, Paddy," replied 
John, with a mournful shake of the head. 
" The fine folk will ha' learned her value by 
tliis time, and will strive to hinder her lavin' by 
hapin' abuses on me. And if this be so, and 
she refuse to come back, tell her that war what 
I feared and what I desarved ; and tell her 
tliough 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 — so as 
hj 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, good-day 
to ye, masthcr. May good luck go with me, 
and 'bide with ye ; and mind ye're faithful to 
the cows and the rest o' the work while I'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 ye 
well ! " 



DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 233 

And throwing his stick, on the end of which 
was a bundle, over his shoulder, the poor, 
faithful fellow trudged ojff on his long day's 
journey, whistling, 

** Will ye go to Kelvin grove ? '* 



CHAPTER XXI. 

PADDY MANNON AT MISS GRET'S. 

rjlWO of tlie sunniest cliambers in the house 
JL had been assigned by Miss Grey to Peggy 
for the "orphan asylum." Under one of the 
windows was a heavy iron balcony, from which 
they could look into the small gardens of two 
old residences, and then off at the distant 
harbor, where white sails were always flapping 
impatiently, or quiet ships lying at anchor, as 
if resting after long and weary voyages. 
From this balcony, after the simple lessons of 
the morning were over, the Immble teacher 
could always see something which suggested a 
sul^ect of instruction to her little charge. 
One day she would tell them all she knew 
about the waters, and explain the power of 
Him who holds them in the hollow of His 

234 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 235 

hand, and who fashions and preserves the 
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 the thoughtful little girls. 

Having noticed the delight they took in 
flowers. Miss Grey, who had now fully re- 
gained her healtli 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 the gor- 
geous blossom. 

On the balcony were two little chairs, with 
books, toys, and materials for dressing dolls, 
when the lessons and the half-hour's task at 
needle work were over. It was the summer 
school-room and the playhouse ; a place of 
never failing amusement. 

One morning, as Bessie sat hemming a 



236 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

coarse towel, her little sister, who was on her 
knees gazing earnestly into the black earth in 
" the garden," as the boxes were called, 
sprung up, exclaiming, " Oh, sec ! God has put 
life into one little black seed, and given it a 
tiny green head, and it's just peeping up. 
And look, He's turned that red bud into a 
flower in the night ! " 

Miss Grey, who was in the room at the time, 
consulting Peggy about some of her charities, 
stooped to look, and then said, " Yes, that is 
one of the seeds you called ' black peas,' a 
sweet-pea. It will grow into a delicate vine, 
and b^-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- 
thress Sheehan, that you heave such a sigh as 
that? " asked Miss Grey. 

" No, ma'am, Pm 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 lieart. I had scores o' twigs stuck 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GEET'S. 237 

up in my little garden, and round each one I'd 
plant a ring o' sweet-peas ; 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 
ugain, 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 
cheek on the bright little head. 

" Then why don't we go there, and j^lant 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 Mis3 Grey, " I can't 



238 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

spare your mammy. What would blind Patty 
.do if she did not visit licr and read to her ? 
And how would old 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 wlicn I'm sick, and tired and lonely. 
There's nobody in the worl^ loves her as much 
as I do ; and nobody sliall 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, slie 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 afeared. Perhaps I've 
Binned, for I've long ceased to pray that I 
might go back to die in my own cottage. I've 



PADDY MANN ON AT MISS GREY'S. 239 

looked on all of artli as lost to me, only for the 
good I'd do, and I've prayed only for John's 
soul, and not that he might be brought back 
repinting and seek me out, and be his old self 
again. 0' late, when I'd be on my knees, a 
question would rise, 'Can y^ 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 vs^ar she hungry, 
and give her a drink war she thirsty ? ' And 
again I said, ' Yea, Lord.' Then came the 
question, ' Could ye gp back to yer home 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 me." 

" 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 



240 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

drove me here. And mind what Jesus Him- 
self suffered. He war abused and insulted by 
the great, and deserted even by His 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 will be 
ashamed to ask you back," said Miss Grey. 

" I had a bit o' a di:ame last night," said 
Peggy. " I thought I was standin' in a gar- 
den, when I lieerd a soft voice call my name as 
Mary at the sepulchre ; and like her I turned 
me 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 the Blessed One 
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 o' the past, but 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 241 

before the light came in at the window the 
great peace was back again in '107 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 in 
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 how Mammy Honey loved them 
and longed for their salvation." 

The conversation might have gone on longer, 
but for a bustle and a sound of laugliter in the 
hall outside the chamber door. After tapping, 
two maids, redolent with smiles and blushes, 
appeared together. Each was ambitious to 
tell the news first. 

16 



242 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

"- Well, ^yllat's this trifling about now ? " 
abked Miss Gi-^y, without a smile. 

" Please, ma'am," they both said in a breath. 

" Susan," said the lady, " be quiet, and let 
Mary tell wliat's going on." 

" Please, ma'am, yon queer dressed farm- 
man, — the little man in the big clothes, — is 
come again lo see Misthress Sheehan. When 
I opened the door at his ringin', he was sitting 
on the steps untying his wooden-soled brogues, 
and he tuuk tliem in liis hand and walked into 
the passage in his stockin's. lie told us to 
say to Misthress Sheehan that ' one Paddy 
Mannon was wantin' to spake with her.' " 

Miss Grey glanced at Peggy, whose face was 
as while as marble, and asked, '' Shall the 
man come up ? " 

'' Yes, and plaze, dear lady, tarry ye too, for 
I'm just faintin' at thouglit o' wliat 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 he is." 



PADDY MANN ON AT MISS GREY'S. 243 

Paddy, with bis shoes iii one hand and his 
staff and bundle in the other, came a step or 
two into the room, very shyly ; but catching a 
glimpse of his mistress in her black dress and 
her muslin cap, he was so overawed by her 
grandeur, that he stepped back again into the 
passage. Miss Grey said, " Come in," but it 
was not till she rose and opened the door that 
he ventured to do so. Then he exclaimed, in 
wonder, " I'd niver a knowed ye, dear. How 
white yer hair is gettin' willi the throuble, and 
how grand ye look in the fine clothes ! Sure, 
ye're dressed like Misthress Murray herself." 

" Paddy," asked Peggy, in a tremulous 
tone, " is all well with ye ? " 

" 'Dade it is, misthress, and better too ! " 
exclaimed Paddy. 

" Lay down yer stick and give me yer hand, 
my poor friend," she said. 

This done, Paddy's sudden reserve gave 
way, and he said, looking first at one of his 
listeners and then at the other, '- I've fine 
news to till ye. The O'Gormans is all dead 
and in the workhouse, and their cottage 



2i4 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

burned. We've been coiivarted at Daisy 
Farm, and we've confissed our sins, and re- 
pinted o' the same, and got back into the 
cluircli again, and walked into tlie pew by tlie 
side o' Mr. Mui-ray, after gcttin' lave of Elder 
Peter, and yon one's gone off to work in the 
mills, and the clay floor's all scraped by thini 
two liands" — which lie held up, — " and the 
flax wheel scoured with soap and sand in the 
lough, and the flax that was on it burnt up, 
and the ashes thrown into the dipths of the 
sea, and the vines all trimmed up, and flowers 
growing and a pot o' scarlets, sint by his river- 
cnce, in the little glass windy, and two young 
deers, a gift from the hall, and a sittin' hin 
witli fourteen fine eggs under her, and himself, 
the masther, all dressed in his hist clothes 
sittin' waitin' to see ye back, and I'm sint for 

Paddy 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 story out of him. 



PADDY MA^''XOX AT MISS GREY'S. 24-7 

" And what message did Mr. Murray send 
by ye, Paddy ? " she 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 
the work, though I never told it afore. I gave 
Kitty Connors half my last quarter's wages to 
fill yon one's head with the hue time they'd 
have at the new mill where herself was goin' 
to work, and to take her over there to a dance 
they had afore the openin'. They war gone a 
week, and it was one long holiday to them, 
and life at the cottage looked dull beside it. 
So I it was that did, in the latter ©end, what 
the dead misthress said I'd do — do ye 
mind ? " 

" Yes, Paddy, I mind, but I'm bewildered 
entirely now, and can not think. But why, 
when yer masther 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. The first was, 
he was afeared-o' Miss Grey, the fine lady; 



246 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

and tlie sicoiid was tluit I wouldn't suffer hiui, 
but was detarmiued to coine uiysilf, as I prom- 
ised ye. Didn't ycrsilf till me wluniver I see 
my mastlier broke down and humbled, to como 
after ye mysilf ? " 

" Yes, Paddy, but I little dramcd it would 
take four long years to bring liim 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 
sliieling, after passing four years amid sucli 
comforts as these ? " 

" 0, dear heart, the comforts tvould niver 
cost me a thought," replied Peggy. " Pm 
bound to ye by a thousand cords o' love ; but 
if I could know the great Masther's will Pd do 
it." 

"But, Misthress Sheehan," said the lady, 
" think of the 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 remain, you 
can fit them to earn their bread in some re- 



PADDY MAXXOy AT MISS GREY'S. 247 

spectable waj. Otherwise, tliey will be cast on 
the world when I am gone." 

" Dear lady," cried Peggy, " when I tuk the 
Iambics to my heart it was for my own. I 
will niver ckst them oif. When 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. Here are two crowns to pay for your 
dinner and your lodging. You can come back 
to see Misthress Sheehan to-morrow." 

Paddy drew his hand behind him as far as 
possible from the proffered silver. 

" Pm not a poor man, lady ! " he 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! Pm not a child, to accept pence, 
but a man, with all the money I nades, and 
plinty to spare to the poor ones. And more 
nor that, ma'am," said Paddy, with a low bow, 
" if it's iver yer fortun' to walk from Killy- 



248 GLMS OF THE BOG. 

rooke to this city, yc'U be glad enough o' a 
bed, 'stead o' stariii' in at sliop windows ! Jf I 
once gets into a hod at the inn I'll hide in it a 
week. I came alter my nii<thr(,'^^s, and not 
seekiu' shows." 

When Peggy liad Taddy alone the next day, 
she said to him, " 1 can not go hack with ye, 
j)Oor, laithful hoy. Yo see how I'm fixed hero 
with the little ones ; I could not leave them, 
nor yet could I take them with me without yer 
masther's lave. Tell him, Paddy, Pve long 
ago forgiven him, and that I've ijcen just sure 
that God would, sooner or later, bring him to 
Himself, and let me take him to .Mammy 
Honey at last. But tell him tliat after all that 
lias j)assed, himself, and not ye, ought to take 
me back to my home, that my neighbors may 
see that he desires me there, and loves me 
still. And tell him, Paddy, that o' all the line 
things Pve seen here there's nothing so beauti- 
ful to me as my own little cottage, and that I 
can return and be the same faithful wife as I 
iver was. And tell him that the peace o' God 
still 'bides with my sperit, and. that through all 



PADDY^ MANNON AT MISS GREY'S, 249 

my sorrow the loviii' Master lias been iver at 
my side, — that 1 almost see Him by me now. 
And 0, Paddy, don't ye be so plased about yer 
poor masther's bchi' convarted 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 ye agin alone.*' 

Notwithstanding Paddy's noble independ- 
ence, he consented to stay three or four days 
at an inn at Miss Grey's expense. He also de- 
scended so far from his dignity as to yield the 
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. He had gone forth proud and boast- 
Tul, taking to himself all the honor of the good 
work at the cottage, and saying, " There's just 
but only one man on the round arth that can 
bring the jewel back, and that man's mysilf — 
Paddy Mannon. And look out for the day ye 
see us retarnin' together triumphant to Killy- 
rooke ! " Poor, crestfallen Paddy ! All he 



250 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

had gained personally hv liis long tramp was 
sore disappointment, deep mortification and 
aching limbs. 

When he reached " tlie tnrn of the road " 
where the wagoner set him down, he seated 
himself on a pile of stones, saying, resolutely, 
" Now, Paddy Mainion, sit here till ye die, 
afore ye enter Killyrooke alone. My heart's 
broke in my bnssnm ; yis, tin times ])roker nor 
it war the day I laid my jewel Meg in the 
grave, ijitircly. Here I'll 'bide and die o' 
ather hunger or starvation. And then the 
ministher, and Elder Peter, and the miserable 
masther will cry tears above me, and say, 
* There war a fnic, faithful lad ! ' Farewell to 
ye, ilegaut green arth and blue skies ; fare- 
well, craturs Pve fed and housed so tinder ; 
farewell, Masther John, that's been the dith o' 
poor Paddy. Dig me a grave beside Meg, and 
let me hide mysilf in it afore any body in 
Killyrooke will taunt me with the disgrace o' 
comin' back alone, and nobody with me ! 
These is the last words o' Paddy Mannon, late 



PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 251 

of Killyrooke, parish o' Cloynmally, county 
Connaught, Ireland." 

The first twinge of hunger, — the seat of 
that malady being the most sensitive part of 
Paddy's system, — drove all sentimentalism 
out of him ; and about an hour after he had 
uttered his " last words," he took up his stick 
and bundle and made 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 home in a 
fortnight, with the two little girls. 

Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, 
" Ye've not seen yon Miss Grey, that has the 
kapin' of her. To hear 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 niver face Masther 
John with the bad news." 

Mr. Murray offered to go home with him, as 
Miss Grey's letter was for his master's benefit, 
and must be read to him. It was like the sur- 



252 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

geon's lance, severe, but potent ; and both de- 
cided that, painful as it would be, John him^ 
self must go for Peggy. 



CHAPTER XXII. 



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 their 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 her, 
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 

253 



254 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

brother, and spoke of him as " poor Sheehan,'* 
and not as " that miserable man." She be- 
came so softened towards liim that, great as 
was the sacrifice, she consented cheerfully to 
Peggy's departure. She promised lo provide 
fertile little girls nndcr her charge until they 
should be able to take care of themselves. 
Not to make the change too great from the 
pleasant chambers where they now lived, she 
insisted on sending to Killyrooke a load of 
furniture, bedding, books and toys by Barney's 
wagon. 

" 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 thiidv 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 floor 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 "home-bringing:' 255 

John expressed his gi-atitude, and promised 
to make the improvements she suggested. 
But Peggy's pale face flushed as she said, — 

" But, dear Miss Grey, I'm afeared about 
the carpet. Perhaps the poor things that I'm 
hopin' to benefit there might think me proud, 
and so grow invious ; and I dar'n't do any 
thing 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, 
Mistress Sheehan, and I know that the igno- 
rant take instruction more kindly from supe- 
riors than from equals or inferiors. And, al- 
though you were not a whit above themselves, 
they'd listen to you witli more respect in your 
black dress and your muslin cap than in the 
old linsey-woolsey and cotton. When the car- 
pet is laid, and the new windows put in, 
there's no doubt you will have admirers 
enough. And those who come to gaze will 
Btay to listen." 

" But, ma'am, there's not a carpet in the 



250 GEMS^OF THE BOG. 

town only at the ' Hall,' and the priest's, and 
the minister's. Mrs. Murray lias but one, — 
in her best i)arlor," said Peggy. 

" Well, you deserve as good a carpet as 
Mrs. Murray, and 1 shall not let you go 
till you promise to put it down," said Miss 
Grey. 

Peggy consented, but not without some 
Tears Tor her influence in Killyrooke. 

" And when ye ^^end me garments to make 
Ibr the little nuxids," she said, " yc'U remem- 
ber that they'll be just poor people's children, 
and not send things too fine, to make them- 
selves vain or others invious." 

" Certainly, Mistress Sheehun, 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 the makin's 
o' lovely women by natur'," said Peggy, " and 



A HAPPY '' HOME-BRINGINGr 257 

the comfort they have been to me in my sor- 
row is wonderful. Tve just the love o' a 
mother to them, and many the time I've 
thought that all that's beeu 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 here to school " — to be fitted for fu- 
ture work. You have been a faithful learner. 
I don't believe your old neighbors will know 
you as the shy woman they knew four years 
ago. Do you remember how you suffered 
when my poor mother insisted on your read- 
ing the Bible aloud to her ? Xow you can 
read to half a dozen without trembling, or 
spelling, either." 

Peggy smiled, and replied, " Yes, and not 
stop at the long words,. ather, as 1 did tlien. 
I wonder ivery day how iver ye bore with my 
shy, stupid ways in tliim days, and shall strive 
to return yer kindness Ijy makin' good use o' 
the tachin' I've got in this blissed home. 
And if sickness or sorrow come to ye, remem- 



2o8 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

bcr ye've always a sarvant to bid to yer side in 
me, — day or night, ma'am." 

When arrangements were being made for 
the journey, Peggy begged to go . back in Bar- 
ney's wagon, as she shoukl feel easier there 
tlian if crowded up among strangers. Beside 
that, she wanted to see the kind man again, 
and to tell liini tliat' tlie Providence he had 
called "luck" had made all bright with her, 
as he had prophesied. 

As Miss Grey declined the lionor of having 
Barney's establishment di-awn \\\) Ijcfore her 
door to receive four passengers, he was or- 
dered to take the furniture and luggage ; and 
the family walked on and seated themselves in 
his high wagon, when ho arrived at the inn 
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, 
Peggy introduced John and the children to 
him, and asked very kindly after his wife, in 
whose sorrows she had felt so much sympathy. 



A HAPPY "HOME-BRINGING." 259 

" 0^ she's well," he replied. " Ye mind 
1 was- telling ye yon day what a sore heart she 
had about the little fellows we buried, and how 
taken up she war with yon Methodises in our 
town ? " 

" Yes." 

" Well, when I returned home after dis- 
charging ye at the lady's door, I told her all 
about ye and yer throubles — the cause o' 
which I didn't know. I told her what ye said 
about ' luck ' bein' the hand o' God, and about 
the great peace ye'd got in yer own soul, and 
the good advice ye gave me about my soul 
And what does my wife do but go tell it all to 
the Methodis' lader, and the next meetin' they 
had, they all fell to pray in' for ye, and to 
givin' thanks for the marcy o' God to ye in 
yer sorrow. They called ye right out by 
name, and first one prayed that yer sorrow, 
wliatever it was, might work for yer glory, 
and then another that yev last days miglit be 
yer usefulest and happiest days. If ye'd been 
one o' thimsilves, dear heart, they couldn't 
made more noise about it," said Barney, who 



260 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

had put the reins in John's liand, that ho 
might turn round and converse with Peggy. 

'' I am just one of themselves, dear man," 
she replied. " All who love the Lord are just 
one hody, and Christ i< our licad. When ye 
go back, tell them dear saints that the Lord 
has taken away my grief, and tliat Tm now 
blessed witli iwo darlin' little maids as war 
motherless afore, and that lie has given me 
such a power o' courage that I can speak, and 
read, and sing to as many neighbor-women as 
will listen to me, about Christ. But, greater 
nor all, I've got the blessings o' salvation for 
my hnsband, the son o' the holy woman I told 
ye of; and we too are now to strive for like 
mercy for our neighbors. And tell mo now, 
liow is it with yer own sonl ? " 

" Poor enough," replied Barney, " as far as 
being convarted goes. The wife talks much 
like yersilf, and has joined herself to thim 
Methodises, and is sore worried about me. 
She coulisses that I'm another man from the 
one o' past days; for I've nivcr swore an oath 
since the day I promised ye I wouldn't, and 



A HAPPY ** HOME-BRINGINGr 261 

I'm strivin' not to hate the Papists; but 
that's harder nor giviii' up the swariu'. I'm 
doiu' all m my power to be a Christian, such 
as will suit my wife ; for beside wantin' to go 
to heaven at last, I'd be glad to make her 
happy, for she's had a sore life o't, poor thing, 
one way and another. But for all my tryin' 
it's a small headway I make, this far." 

" Then stop tryin' to quit this and to do 
that, dear man," said Peggy. " What would 
ye say to a wagoner that was trying to make 
his journey by whippin' dead horses ? " 

" I'd say he war a fool, intirely," replied the 
wagoner. 

" And yet ye're doing just that same. 
Ye're dead in trespasses and sins, and ye're 
whipping up and cheerin' on yer dead heart 
find dead will, hopin' they'll get ye to heaven 
by-and-by. Now quit this folly, and in yer 
dead and helpless state go to Christ for life. 
It's by Him, and not by our dead selves, that 
we make this journey, or else we'll fall by the 
road and perish. Now if one promise made 
to me has helped ye to keep from open sin, 



202 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

may ))C aii(3tlier will help yc to Christ. Will 
ye cease striving to make yersilf holy, and '•o 
to Him just as ye are, and beg for a share in 
His holiness? He has plenty o' it to divide 
among us all, and tlien have perfect holiness 
left. Will ye go to hiiu tlius, and not insult 
Him hy cxpectiu' to get credit for not profan- 
ing His holy name, and the like wickedness ? " 
*' I will," said Barney, in a subdued tone. 
" And give my love to ycr wife, and all the 
Methodises, and tell tiiem . the Lord heard 
them for me. Perhaps the times I've been 
lifted above all arth, and felt like them that 
was taken on to the mount with himself and 
saw His glory, was just when they was plead- 
in' for me. It's a short road that's between 
them that's separated, when that road lies past 
the mercy-seat." 

John, who had many times taken the reins 
in his left hand while he wiped his tears away 
with the right, turned round now and asked 
Peggy, " Couldn't ye sing yon hymn o' 
Charles Wesley's to the good man ? " 

" Ay, if he'd like," said Peggy, '' and little 



A HAPPY " HOME-BRINGING r 263 

Bessie may put in with her swate voice, too, 
for she's larned it lovely." 
And they sang, in clear, sweet tones, — 

" Depth of mercy ! can there be 
Mercy still reserved for me ? 
Can my God his wrath forbear. 
Me the chief of sinners spare ? '* 

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 
sight, he, in true oriental style, lifted up his 
voice and wept. He took Peggy and the little 
girls out of the wagon in his arms, and in his 
foolish joy attempted to do the same for John ; 
but his love couldn't work miracles. After an 
affectionate farewell to Barney, Peggy was sur- 
prised to see Mr. Murray standing near them. 

With a kind greeting, he said, " Mrs. Mur- 
ray sends me to bring you all to her for a cup 



264 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

of tea, and then you can walk to the cottage 
in tlic evening." 

This was an act of condescension wliicli 
bronglit bhishes to Peggy's cheek, hut notic- 
ing lu)w Paddy's cuunteuance fell, she was 
going to decline the iiivilalion, when ^Ir. 
Murray said, — 

" And Paddy must come hack when he's 
taken home his load and put up the donkey. 
Kate and Tim will he glad if lie'll join them 
at a enp of tea in the kitchen." 

Paddy's face was radiant with smiles, and 
bowing almost to the ground, he exclaimed, 
" Yer riverence is a jintleman, and Pll i)e hack 
in less nor an hour — as soon as Pve milked, 
and dacented myself up fU fur the honor, in 
my bist shute." 

A smile passed over the faces of the littlo 
group, and thus encouraged, Paddy caught off 
his old hat, and striking a heroic attitude, 
spoke the following " varses " impromptu: 

'* When from her home the misthreas wint, 
Poor Paddy liowlel a loud lamint ; 
And all the time she war away. 
She sarved a lady named Miss Grey. 



A HAPPY " home-bringing:^ 265 

*• And in thim four lon<r, cruel j'eara 
Paddy shed buckets full of tears; 
His cheeks 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 larns to pray ; 
No more a Papist lad he'll be. 
But Protestant, as all shall see." 

And with this pledge he took aim and threw 
his beads as far as he could down the road, 
and then hastened home with his load, that he 
might prepare for his return to the parson- 
age. 

Wlien the moon rose high, shedding a silver 
light over tlie landscape, and giving a charm 
even to the poor cottages on the road, tlie 
little family, accompanied by tlieir faithful 
minister, walked from Cloynmally to the cot- 



26G GEMS OF THE BOG. 

tage. John carried the eldest child in his 
arms, while Paddy brought up the rear wilh 
the other on his shoulder, galloping and oc- 
casionally neighing like a horse for her anmse- 
mcnt. 

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 there. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 

TO the little girls, who had rarely seen a 
green field, Killyrooke, with its acres of 
flax and barley, was like a picture of fairy- 
land. The low, rude cottage was a wonder 
to them, and the flowers and vines about it 
were a source of perfect delight. The greatest 
charm of the place, liowever, was the " life " 
it contained. They were 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 they went to the mill with Paddy, 
seated on the bag of barley in the donkey-cart, 
and during the ride were entertained with mar- 
velous stories and wild Irish songs. When 

2:7 



268 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

John asked Marion wliicli of all his '• craturs " 
she liked hcst, the deer, or tlic calf, or the 
hiiui)s, or the cows, 4)r the donkey, she replied, 
innocently, " Oh, I like the fnnny, kind man 
the hest of them all, — dear Paddy Mannon." 
And from IIk; honr of their ai-rival at the cot- 
tage, Paddy Mannon hecame the nurse, the 
patron and the hero of the children. lie 
would not go to mill or to market without 
them, and insisted that the cows stood more 
(juictly while he was milking '* if the small 
i)it girlies were aside thim with their soft 
voices." 

lie soon grew so proud of them that lie 
overcame his fear of apostasy and of Father 
Clakey, and went to the Preshyterian church 
with the family, to hoar what people said 
ahout the little new-comers after service. 

AVl>€n Peggy began life again at the cottage, 
her l>il)le was kept oj)en on a little talde 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 



THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 269 

among them wislied 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 
them to shape and to narrow them off. 

As Miss Grey had predicted, the simple 
people looked on Peggy in lier new attire and 
with* 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 
the cottage just before sunset by such as were 
too timid to accept her invitations. One came 
to borrow a measure of meal or a few eggs, 
another to ask what would cure the toothache, 
and a third to inquire for the health of tlie 
two little girls ; and once there, tliey remained 
to hear Peggy read. Thus, from beginning 
the readings with John, Paddy and the chil- 
dren, she soon had a dozen listeners. Some- 
times they would ask her questions, which, 
gave her opportunity to explain the passages 
she read — which were usually from the life 



270 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

and tlio teachings of Jesus. Slic liad learned 
many sweet liyuius, witli tunes new to them, 
to winch they listened with great pleasure;^ 
and not a few of tlieni began to long for an 
interest in the love wliich had upheld their 
ncighl)or in lior sorrows, and wliich now added 
such charms to licr siinph; life. 

Duiiiig these readings, John always sat with 
his face l)uried in his liands, as if in prayer. 
Ilis manner was ever marked witli the deepest 
solemnity, like that of one who felt his own 
weakness and God's power; wlio walked under 
Ilis eye, and feared hy oiui trifling word to 
grieve Uim who had forgiven so much. lie 
said little ; hut the crops, and tlie " 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 

doubted, but like him, also, he could cry, 
at times, '' My Lord and my God." Tlie 
solemnity of eternity was impressed on his 
countenance, and his old good-natured smile 
had given way to a grave and tlioughtful 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 should the children of a King 
Go mourning all their 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 be smiliu' and merry, tliat has 
crucified the Lord afresli, and put Him to an 
open shame ? The wounds I gave to Him and 



272 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

to yc, darlin', is ivcr i^oro my eyes, as well as 
tljc marcy tliat lias forgiven mo. So I can 
niver turn from tliis sight to look after what 
others call joy. My joy and my crown is to 
lie in the dust and cry ' Unclane, uiielane/ and 
to tarn from my polhition to His holiness. 
With tliat afore mo, I'm afeared to open my 
lips lest I sin against God again. If I kape 
near to 11 im and to ye I'm safe and paceful, 
and tliat's all I'll ask till I see Ilim as lie 
is.'' 

And yet John was just as diligent in husi- 
ncs9 as when his thouglits were all centered 
in the farm. He at once set himself to enlarg- 
ing and repairing the cottage, a work requir- 
ing little skill or little money. He and 
Paddy laid tlie stone for the new room, and 
tilled the crevices with a clay mortar of their 
own mixing. When this was done, the joiner 
from Cloynmally came with boards and tools 
to lay the floor, and to put in three new 
windows, — for even Paddy was to Jiave one 
in his loft, as Miss Grey had ordered ; and 
over this luxury he was so jubilant that he 



THE XEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 273 

forgave her for beiug " an iuimy to the whole 
male sict." 

When all was done, John and Peggy spent 
days in untangling " the dear vines about 
Mammy Honey's window," and training them 
round the corner so as " to hide up the new 
part, which had no home look," as Peggy said. 
Then the carpet was laid, the chairs, and 
tables, and pictures which Miss Grey had sent 
were put into the new room. All Killyrooke 
came to admire, and to wonder " at the luck 
w^iich had come to the mistress out of her 
great sorrow." 

Into this little parlor the Bible and hymn- 
book were now removed, and here Peggy and 
the children sat when the labors of the cottage 
were over, to knit, and sew, and read ; and it, 
was into this room that the sunset visitors 
were hereafter to be ushered. 

The lady at the Hall became deeply inter- 
ested in Peggy's effort to improve her careless 
neighbors. She came in her carriage to visit 
her, and to hear the story of the little girls 
and of all Miss Grey's kindness. She ex- 

18 



274 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

pressed great pleasure in the success of tlio 
sunset reading and the knitting-school, and 
promised to send down yarn for all the little 
girls wlio would learn to knit their own stock- 
ings. " His reverence is a little stirred up, 
my good Peggy," slie said, " al)out the read- 
ing. Believing, as he does, that the common 
people, — tlic ignorant, I mean, — are 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, Avithout 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 ])rL'ak \\\) the ' teachings.' " 

Peggy's first impulse was to tell the Catholic 
lady that she had no master but Christ, and 
that she should pay no heed either to priest or 
bishop. But she knew this would deprive her 
of all opportunity of doing the poor women 
good. So she wisely replied, " I could re- 



THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FARM. 275 

patG varses, and give advice, and sing hymns 
to them, my lady, without opening the lids 
o' my book, if that's what troubles Father 
Clakcy." 

" Do so, then, my good woman, and I will 
promise you shall not be interfered with," 
siiid the lady. " If you need yarn or clotli 
for the work, send to me ; and come to the 
Hall now and then with your report. I will 
stand between you and Father Clakey in the 
matter." 

The honor of this visit, and the memory 
of the fine carriage and bay horses with 
liveried men halting before the cottage, raised 
Peggy not a little in the esteem of her neigh- 
bors. They felt it a great honor to know one 
whom the lady of the Hall had deigned to 
visit. Paddy, although he saw the fine equip- 
age frequently on the road, was so awe-stricken 
by its standing before the cottage door, that 
he ran into the cow-house and hid himself in 
tlie loft till it was gone. 

Peggy sat down at her little table, and 
taking up her hynm-book, began to select 



270 GEMS OF TUE DOG. 

Bucli portions as should comprise the wholo 
gospel. 

She strove on that evening to impress the 
minds of her visitors with the sinfuhiess of 
their own hearts, and drew out their ideas on 
the subject. Then she sang the hymn be- 

*• How Bad our state by nature is, 

Our siu how deep its stain! 
And Satin bin 1 our captive minds 

Ftist in his sla.ish chain." 

After exphiining to them thoir 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 lier simple 
way she hold up Jesus as tlie friend and 
lover of the poor, till tears fell from the 
eyes of her listeners, and some of them 
asked, " Why doesn't Father Clakey tell us 
all this?" 

When the hour was over, and the knit- 
ting-needles were passed through 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, — 

" Alas, and did my Saviour bleed. 

And did my Sovereign die ? 
Would He devote that sacred head 

For such a worm as I ? " 

Although this effort of the loving creature 
was anything but agreeable to the priest, and 
he scolded well out of doors about it, he never 
actually forbade the women to go to the cot- 
tage, but satisfied his conscience by chargin/^ 
them not to listen to heresy there. 

And thus, amid liome cares, — which with 
her had become religious duties, — and efforts 
for the salvation of others, the years slipped 
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- 
ren, went to a school in Cloynmally, which 
was kept by a good sister of Elder Peter, wlio, 
unlike him, was of a most gentle spirit. 
When the weather was fine they walked, 



278 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

carrying tlicir dinner in a small wooiien 
l)nckct. When it stormed, tliey were driven 
over by Paddy in the donkey-cart, being enter- 
tained on the way witli marvelous tales of 
liis travels in the moon, and his sailing and 
fishing in the clouds, and witli merry, harm- 
less old Irish ballads. So charming were 
these rides, with such company, that they both 
longed for storms. 



CHAPTER XXiy. 

THE ENEMY AGAIN. 

WHEN Bessie and Marion were about 
eight and ten years old, there was to be 
a fair and horse-race a few miles from tlie 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 lier. 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 wh.y tlie 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 knew the un- 

279 



280 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

liallowod voice tliat had so often rung through 
the low rooms of the cottage. It was hers 
who had broken its peace. 

The light from half a dozen lanterns flashed 
for a niomoiit across the wall, and then the 
1 lamping of feet and the humming of voices 
gradually died away in the distance. Anguish 
uidvuown since the day she first returned to 
her home to fmd an intruder there, rushed like 
an overwhelming billow across her heart, and 
Beemcd to swallow her up. She sank hel|> 
lessly into a chair, and felt for a moment as if 
nil were again lost to her. Tiie tempter ap- 
peared for a season, and whispered that God 
liad forgotten to be gracious, and that her 
enemy would yet triunij)!! over her. 

But in a moment she knew whence these 
suggestions camo, and she whispered, " No, 
Satan, ye cannot beguile rac ! 

•* • The soul that oa Jesos has leaned for repose. 
He will not, lie will not desert to His foes; 
That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake. 
He'll never, no, never, no, never forsake.' " 

And lifting her hands and her eyes, she 



THE ENEMY AGAIN. 281 

said, with a smile, " ' Thou wilt keep tliem in 
perfect peace whose iniucls are stayed on 
Thee ; ' and if ever poor woman was helped to 
stay herself on God, Peggy Sheehan has 
been." 

And 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 in time to see the sun rise over 
the 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. 
They employed the first holiday in stringing 
thorn-berries on long threads to decorate the 
horns of the cows, and the necks of the deer 
and lambs. When Bessie wearied of this she 



282 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

went into the cottage to her knitting, leaving 
Marion outside the hedge alone. Wlien 
supper was ready, the 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 shilling. 

" 0, look, mammy ! " she said, " see my 
present, and I've got sugar plums, too." 

" Poor Paddy wastes his money to plaze ye, 
little dear," said Peggy, looking with interest 
at the bauble. 

" 0, no, it was not Paddy gave it me," cried 
the 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 the innocent child 
climbed to Peggy's knee, and covered her 
with kisses as she sat at tlic table. 

" Her mother can never surely have found 
us out, poor thing ! I'd never a thought she 
war living," exclaimed Peggy. 



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 
clothes. How looked she, darlin' ? 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 
hat, and I kissed her because slie gave me this 
and the sugar plums. She said I must hate 
Paddy Mannon, poor Paddy." 

" No, darling," replied Peggy, " ye must 
love him. He's kind and good ; and if he war 
not, ye must niver hate him. God bids us love 
aven our inimies, ye know. If iver ye see this 
woman more, Marion, do ye run into the cot- 
tage at once, lest she run off with ye, and 
break my heart." 

That horrid peal of laughter was 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 sbe had believed . otherwise her 
faith was too strong that dav to be shaken. 



284 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

Had a liost encamped against the cottage, she 
would liave dwelt in i)caco. 

After supper tlic cliildreu led Peggy out to 
see how they had dressed the cows, deer and 
lambs with liaw-hcrries. As they came near 
the cow-house tliey heard sobs, and looking in, 
saw Paddy Muniion standing in a corner, with 
his face pressed close to tlio wall, weeping bit- 
terly. 

" What can ail ye, boy ? " asked Peggy in 
surprise ; for Paddy was one of tliosc fortunate 
mortals who s(3em exempt lV(jm the sorrows of 
life, — who, iiaving nothing, can lose nothing. 

He turned round and replied, " Send the 
small things into the cottage, and thin if ye'U 
promise not to turn white and scare me, I'll 
tell ye wliat a evil lias come to us." 

When tlioy were alone he continued, " I had 
a visit from Nan, and she bid me get the tin 
pounds I told ye on, or she'd walk into the 
cottage. I war just quite brave at first, and I 
told lier it war mysilf hired her friend to woo 
her off, and I threatened her with the magis- 
trate, and the like. And didn't she up and 



THE ENEMY AGAIN: 285 

bate the ears near off my face because I'd not 
git her the tin pounds to spend at the fair ? 
Yerself knows, misthress dear, there's not a 
live man as has more respect for woman nor 
mysilf; that is whin she kapes in her own 
sphare ; but when she laves spinnin' and 
milkin', and goes aboot chastisin' noble men 
as was made to be the head and ruler o' her, 
then I'm more afeared o' her, than o' the very 
ghosts thimselves ! I'll not go out o' doors for 
[% year, lest the boys taunts me with this blow I 
got from a woman. 'Dade, my head tings now 
like the church bolls with tlie 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 ye saw her at all," said Peggy. 
" I'm not afeared 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 the 



286 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

powers o' evil, and we're safe under His wing. 
Now mind, j)Oor faithful cretur, yc're not to 
breathe yon poor tiling's name to any mortal, 
especial not to yer dear masther, to bring 
back the sorrows o' the past. She'll be off 
with her friends when the fair and the races 
is over, and we'll still 'bide here together in 
the pace o' God." 



CHAPTER XXV. 

A CONSECRATED LIFE. 

THE young man, whose visits had been so 
greatly blessed to John Sheehan, had been 
abroad about three or four years for study and 
travel. He had now returned, and taken a place 
in the counting-room of his father's extensive 
" works," believing that he was called to honor 
God in the busy mart of trade. This 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 
a statesman. He now resolved that he should 
at least become a star in the fashionable 
world, and saw no reason, except the fanaticism 
which had taken possession of him in college , 
why he should not marry a title. He knew 
that his money would be as highly prized 

?87 



288 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

among the poor nobility as a nauio would bo 
be by him, a rich commoner. 

With this fine fancy in his brain, the man 
of gold did not choose to see his heir seated on 
a high stool, scratching in a ledger. So ho 
bought him fine horses, a startling brougham, 
and other vehicles, and gave him means to keep 
up the style requisite to carry out his plan 
for him. 

But his sun's heart was on other tilings, and 
the young daughters of dukes and earls passed 
by l»im, as little regarded as the down of the 
thistle. He envied the coronet of an earl no 
more than the cockade of a coachman, and all 
the elTorts of his father and sisters to '' rouso 
liis aml)ition" were in vain. 

One morning as he sat in tlic library alone, 
his father entered, with a cloud on his brow. 

" Come, my boy^" he said, in a tone which 
betokened pain rather than anger, " we must 
talk over this matter of your future a little. I 
need not tell you that I am sorely disappointed 
in the son of my pride. I reared you for a 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 289 

gentleman, but I^rn told you have turned out 
almost a Methodist, forsaking the society which 
you are fitted to adorn, and choosing your as- 
sociates among the employes of the house, — 
even the draymen, — and making yourself 
' hale fellow well met ' with old Shannon, and 
Cragin, the cooper. Whence did you inherit 
such tastes, my boy ? " 

A deep color rose to the cheek of the young 
man, as he replied, ^^ I hope, my dear father, I 
shall never do any thing to disgrace you, or to 
show myself ungrateful for all your indulgence. 
But there is One who has a still higher claiui 
on me than you have ; and to Him I made 
vows, as solemn as eternity, in an hour of deep 
anguish. I was on the brink of ruin, and had 
almost brought disgrace on you, when God laid 
His hand on me, stayed me in my mad career, 
and brought me to my right mind. Those vows 
I must fulfill, both from honesty and from a 
love ^yhich draws me in the way of His com- 
mandments. I implore you not to tempt me 
from Christ by suggesting that I am pold and 
ungrateful to you. I enjoy the comforts of 

19 



290 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

wealth as much as any young man can do, but 
were the choice forced upon me, I would rather 
be a beggar following Christ, than a prince 
with ray back turned upon Ilim." 

" Your sisters can never induce you to ac- 
company tlicm to rout or ])lay ; but you have 
plenty of time to bestow on people who have 
no claim on you," said the father, severely. 

" Every body has a claim on me, father," 
replied the young man, " and when those I love 
at home will not listen to me, I must seek out 
those who will. Our family friends would scorn 
me 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 speak to 
them of tbeir souls, and they read wliati give 
them, and go where I request them, to hear the 
Word of God preached." 

" You never caugiit this spirit of fanaticism 
from my friend Murray ; for although he was 
a church-member when we were young to- 
gether, hp always remembered that he was a 
gentleman," said the old man. 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 291 

" I hope I vsliall remember that too, father," 
replied the son. 

" You did not see Murray waylaying work- 
men, and running to night services when you 
were with him, I'm very sure ? " asked the 
father. 

" He did what he could in that way, but the 
lower classes about him are all Papists, and 
they shun him as if he were a foe." 

The father remained silent a moment, and 
then, as if a bright thought liad just stnick 
him, he 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 he be as poor as tlie 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?" 

" Eather, should I do this, it would not be in 
the churcli 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 



292 GEMS OF THE B0(/. 

business life. I have never had a call to the 
ministry." 

" A call to the ministry ! " re-echoed the old 
man, who had probably never heard the expres- 
sion before, " what have you ' had a call to,' 
pray tell me ? " 

" To make money, and witli it, as well as 
with all my powers, to glorify God while I 
live," replied tlie young man, solemnly. '*Do 
not tempt me to play tr litor to the King I have 
chosen to rule over me." 

" 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 arc a man, and 
must choose 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, he 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 see what was doing, 
as there were men paid for that purpose, but to 
inspire the workmen with an awe of his dig- 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 293 

nity ; and also to encourage each of them by 
his bland smile and his cheerful " Good-morn- 
ing, my man ! " 

When the letters by the morning's mail 
were laid by a clerk on the desk before the 
young man, his eye brightened at sight of one 
in Mr. Murray's well-known hand. Tiie 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 the balm he needed 
at that moment, and read therein good news : 

" My Yery Dear Young Friend, — When [ 
saw your name among the passengers in tlis 
' 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 
I would be your assistant there. I blush when 
I remember that I strove to discourage you 
in your efforts for poor, fallen Sheehau. God 
blessed your work. He was saved, and the 



294 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

desolate are brought together into a happy 
and godly family. 

" Your success in gaining the cars of these 
poor people has convinced me 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 gentleman, while God's more pul)lic 
servant was looked on as a wily heretic seek- 
ing to delude their souls. You did more for 
poor blind Killyrooke tlie two weeks you were 
"with us than I liave been able to do in all tlie 
years I have labored at Cloynmally. I liave 
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, — the woman whose 
heart and arms ached from emptiness after the 
dead baby. There was great joy in the churph 
over these poor souls. 

"When John Sheehan, ' your joy and your 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 295 

crown,' brought back his wife to the cottage, 
it was as if he had introduced an angel into 
the poor hamlet. She had gained much in- 
formation, and had also overcome, to a sur- 
prising degree, her natural shyness by her 
intercourse with Miss Grey and her poor Cliris- 
tian pensioners. She at once set out to read 
the Gospel to her neighbors. But they were 
soon forbidden to hear the Bible read. She 
then, with strange wisdom, selected such 
hymns and psalms as form a body of divinity 
in 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 the 
words, and carry them home and sing them at 
their toil ; and thus your work is going on 
here. 

" The ungodly see 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. The poor 



290 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

heart-broken lady at tlie Hall is in sore need 
of the sympathy of Jesus, and is, I hear, fully 
convinced of tlie vanity of her penances and 
of the mass. But alas ! slie could never stoop 
so low as to hear the Gospel sung in a 
tliatched 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. The gentleman 
at the Hall, sorely eml)arrassed by high living, 
has let the cottages of tlie tenantry, as well as 
his own grounds, run to ruin ; so the poor 
people are emigrating to America as f^st as 
they can get money for the passage. The seed 
which Peggy is casting forth in love 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 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 297 

God ' that you keep the delicate frame He 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 ears and the 
hearts of those poor fellows at the 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 tells him that he 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 



298 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

tliem — if fortunate enough to read at all. 
Come back at your first leisure, and visit your 
liuniblc little parish before it melts away, and 
I will show you a wonderful change in the 
home of poor humble Sheehan. That foolish 
fellow, Paddy, says he is a Protestant now, 
and he attends service regularly with his 
master. Tbe account he himself gives of the 
change is, that when he was homesick after 
his mistress, he vowed that if ever she came 
back to bini he would toss up a penny to 
decide tlie matter of his religion. -He did 
so just before she came. Tbe result turned 
liim 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 )iot read or hear tlie Bible, 
si7ig the G-ospel to them. Would it not be 
well for us to avail ourselves of poor Peggy's 
invention, and througli music to draw the poor 
and the needy where they can hear the sweet 
sound of the Gospel ? " 



A CONSECRATED LIFE. 299 

Ten days after tliis letter was received by 
the young man, the family at the cottage were 
surprised by the arrival of a box full of books 
and colored cards from Mr. Murray's friend. 
These were to be scattered by Peggy among 
— so he wrote — " my friends in Killyrooke." 
Many of the young men, proud of the honor, 
wished to know what the books contained, 
but not being able to read, were forced to go 
to Peggy and John, who held themselves 
ready for the work. Both Bessie and Marion 
were brought into the service, and there was 
more reading in Killyrooke in the next ten 
days than there had ever been before since 
the first poor cottage was built there. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

VISITS PROM FRIEND AND FOE. 

ONE pleasant afternoon in the early autumn, 
as Peggy sat at her wheel by tlie open 
door of her cottage, she was surprised by the 
arrival of guests in a smart jaunting-car. 
They were no other than Barney and liis wife, 
who for 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 the wife of tlic " dear 
wagoner," she rushed out to the gate to wel- 
come them. 

" Ah, good woman," cried the wagoner, " ye 
see it's true that ' birds of a feather flock to- 
gether.' For the last while I've jist been long- 
ing to have a word with ye, and to thank ye 
for the throuble ye took about my soul, and to 

300 



VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 301 

tell ye that I'm jist one o' yersilves now ! 
And here's my poor Molly, a thankful cretur 
as lives, and as lovm' a one too. She's never 
asked high things o' the Lord in this world, 
but what she has asked He's bestowed on her 
and on me ; and we're come to bid ye re- 
joice with us that we, poor lost sheep, is 
brought into the dear fold." 

Peggy folded the wagoner's wife in her 
arms and imprinted a motherly kiss on her 
pale cheek, but, without speaking to her, con- 
tinued her conversation with Barney as he 
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 ivery one o' them, from the Pope 
hisself down to the manest o' my inimies at 
home 1 rd travel from here to Limerick on 
my knees, if by so doin' I could open one 
pair o' blind eyes to see the marcy I've seen 
in the sinners' Friend," he replied. 

As they entered the cottage, Paddy, who 
had been drawn from the garden by their joy- 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 

fill voices, joined them, and taking ofT his liat 
made a low bow, and said, " I'm at ycr sar- 
vice, and yer liarsc's sarvice, too, good wag- 
oner. But afore ye enter, will yc let me have 
a word o* ye ? " * * 

The wagoner stepped l)ack and inclined Ins 
liead towards Paddy in tlie attitude of a lis- 
tener. But Paddy was a man of deeds as well 
as of words ; and he surprised tlie stranger hy 
stooping down and catching up one of his feet 
in his hand. Tlien falling on his knees, he 
put liis head down so low that h(3 could exam- 
ine the sole of his brogue. " I only wanted to 
see," he said, with a confidential wink of his 
little gray eye, '' if yc had ]iol)nails in yer 
shoes; because if ye liad, I'd l)e to pound them 
down afore I let ye into our cottage. We've 
grown very fine since first ye saw iis, and we 
has a carpet on our floor, and carpets is not 
for men as wears hobnails in their soles, ye 
know. Ye^rc all rif/ht ; so walk in, and a 
wilcome to ye ! Yis, yis ; it's fine indeed that 
we are now — atin' with our tables covered 
with white cloth, 'stead o' bare. There's not 




PADDY AND THE WAGONER. 



VISITS FROM FRIEXD AND FOE. 303 

a one like us but only the minister and the 

priest in all these parts. But for all this, we 

kapes quite humble, and treats dacent poor 

people with due civility; so don't be afeared, 

but wipe yer feet well and thin just step ou 

the carpet as if it were no better nor a clay 

floor. Isn't it a fine thing to be kept this 

humble when we're grown such grand folk ? " 

And for two days these humble souls, with a 

few Christian friends who joined them from 

the little band in Cloynmally, " did eat their 

meat witii gladness and singleness of heart, 

praising God, and having favor witli all the 

people." 

The girls were now so large and .^o capable, 
that they relieved Peggy of nearly all the care 
and work, both in tlie cottage and in the poul- 
try-yard. What they could not accomplish 
Paddy did, so he felt great pride in boasting 
tliat " his darlin' mistliress didn't have to lift 
her finger only to plaze herself." But with 
all this freedom from toil, Peggy was not the 
woman to sit down in idleness. The love in 
her heart always supplied work for her hands. 



304 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

Late one summer afteriiooii, Bessie and 
Marion were scut oiT to search for tlie ducks, 
which had, of late, fiillcu into roving habits, 
often leaving *' the fine accommodations " 
Paddy had provided for them, and seeking 
company at a large pond lialf a mile from 
liome. 

As the girls turned into a quiet lane leading 
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 
Sheehan's girls ? " 

Bessie modestly replied, and tlicn expressed 
her opinion to Marion of the way in which the 
stranger spoke of their father. " She might 
at least have called him ' John Sheehan,' she 
said." 

" Come back here and tell us al)out yon 
Miss Grey. Do she sind ye money by the 
hape, or do the old fellow fade and clothe ye 
hisself? " cried one of the women. 

The children were startled 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." 

" Och ye are ! Well, thin, pass on, fine 
ladies," cried the woman. '' I suppose that 
great lady, Peggy Sheehan, forbid ye to spake 
to poor folk." 

" Bessie dear," said Marion, '• I've talked 
twice witli yon woman on the road. One day, 
you mind, I told ye she said she knew my own 
mother, and that Miss Grey bid her come to 
see us." 

" 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 tlie locket long ago, that 
mammy bid ye never speak to, but run from. 
A rough body surely she is, and very unlike 
our mammy." 

And chatting together, they reached the 
pond, and saw their ducks, with a large party 
of friends, on the other side. It was a long 
way round, but they were forced to go on or 
return without them. The shadows were fal- 

20 



306 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

ling, and tliey began to feel alitLlo timid, when, 
to their great joy, they saw Timiuy, the son of 
Elder Peter, coming towards them. He had 
been a most tender and affectionate playmate 
of Bessie for years. It seems that Timmy, 
now turned of seventeen, did not partake of 
liis father's stony nature, but gave the elder 
great annoyance by spending his pocket money 
and his time for the girls. The elder had 
loiig ago declared that he'd have "no stuff" 
about him, and that he would chastise Timmy 
next time he saw him befooling himself. '' How 
can I tell," he said, " but if the lad's left to 
himself, he may turn out a gallant, or a lover, 
or such-like wake cretur' ? 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 be 
kept clane and no one in it to cook him a din- 
ner. And here's him makin' a fool o' himself 
from the cradle up ! Amazin' wakeness for the 
son o' an older ! " 

After a few rebukes and many threats, Elder 
Peter at lengtli devised a plan to mortify the 



VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 307 

lad ill a manner that should teach him a lesson. 
So he took him out of the " classical school 
of Maurice Dolan,'' and put him into the girls' 
school taught by his own sister, with a charge 
to her " to set him in between two little maidsj 
whenever he needed punishment." 

Strange to say, Elder Peter's medicine was 
too mild for tlie disease. Timmy was now in 
his element, wedged in between his admired 
Bessie Sheehan and another pleasant child not 
so old. If his father liad found it hard to 
keep his finger on Timmy out of school hours 
before, he found it still harder now. He 
walked from Cloynmally almost to Killyrooke, 
either " after flowers, or four-leafed shamrocks, 
or something else," every night, till the elder 
took him out of the girls' school and sent 
him 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 
shamrocks with ijchoolmates or friends. So 
Timmy escaped punishment altogetlicr. 

Hard as Elder Peter's nature was, he had a 



308 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

very tender spot in his lieart for Tiinmy — his 
one, only child. Knowing how hard his own 
trade was, lie had resolved tliat Timiuy should 
have an easi(3r one — perha])S be a tailor. 
Against this decision Tininiy rebelled most 
vigorously, declaring that lie would either be a 
stone-cutter or a farmer in America^ and he 
dutifully suggested that if his plans were inter- 
fered witli lie would run off and go to sea. And 
that boy's threat from time immemorial, had 
as great an effect in restraining 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 whicli 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 
the baby boarders, where she was forbidden to 
laugh or to play, and perhaps it was this which 
had given a tinge of sadness to her disposi- 
tion. It certainly was not that she felt depress 



VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 309 

sed by lier connection with the Sheohans ; for 
so closely liad Peggy guarded the cliildren, that 
they had never heard a breath against John's 
fair fame. Seeing his pure daily life and shar- 
ing his affectionate care, they looked upon him 
as the model Christian, and the most respect- 
able man in the hamlet. 

" Well," sighed Bessie, " I'm just wild about 
America. Timmy, and I'll not rest till I see it. 
Bell Sliannon and Maggie McRea are going, 
and they're the last o' the young folk I'm suf- 
fered to consort with, and I'll l)e just miserai)le 
behind them. Why can't your fatlier and mine 
go, as well as other fathers ? " 

" I suppose," answered Timmy, " that my 
father thinks folk don't die fast cnougli for his 
trade in a country where's no potatoo rot and 
no starvation. But the few tliat do die tliere 
lave enougli behind them to pay for liead- 
stones, and that's what few does here." 

" Mammy turns pale now," said Bessie, " at 
the w^ord ' America ; ' but I know they'd all go 
if I set my w^ill on goin,' for they'll never sep- 
arate from me — the lovin' hearts ? " 



310 GEMS OF THE B0(/. 

"If ye go, ni follow, tlioiigli I should have 
to run off,'' replied Timniy. 

Bessie smiled. '• That's an old threat o' 
yours, Timmy, and will frighteu no one but 
your fatlier. I3ut here's the turn of the road 
for you. Now go y(jur 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 hut we'll hear Elder Peter 
and John Sheehan singing the Psalms o' David 
to ' Yankee Doodle' yet ? They have only the 
one tune in that country. Good-night." 

When Bessie parted from Timmy, she came 
to the spot where she and her sister had seen 
the women sitting on the grass, and, renrcm- 
bering that, she hastened on to overtake 
Marion. 

She has gone but a few steps, however, when 
she came upon one of the strangers sitting 
alone on the roadside. 

" What's yer haste, maid ? " she called out. 
" I'm waitin' here to tell ye what will plaze 



VISITS FROM FRIEND xiXD FOE. oil 

ye. Ye are too fine a girl to waste yei* life 
drudging over cows, and flax and butter, sliut 
up in a dull old cottage where's no dances nor 
songs. There's great want o' girls in the 
linen mills, and great wages given. Will ye 
go if yer way be paid ? " 

" My mammy would never sufiFer me," re- 
plied Bessie, as she passed by her without look- 
ing up. 

" Well, what is that to ye ? 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 linger and 
reply in defense of Peggy, and so hurried on. 
But the stranger followed her, saying, " T know 
who yer mother is, and there's where ye'll find 
love. I've read yer fortun' in the clouds that 
blow over the cottage. There's hapes o' gold, 
and fine clothes, and gay friends lying' just 
afore ye. But there's a journey betwane them 
an ye — ather by sea or land, as ye plaze, and 
1*11 lade ye, it ye like, to the illigant luck that's 
ahead." 

" I'll never leave my mammy for gold or 



312 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

fiue clothes," cried Bessie, and then she ran an 
with the speed of an antelope. 

When she reached the cov7-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. 



"T\ARLIN'," cried Peggy, as Bessie entered 

I / the door, " tliere's ill tidings come from 
dear Miss Grey in a letter to Mr. Murray. 
She's very ill, and will have us three come 
to her by the morrow morning's post-chaise — 
she said partic'lar ' not by the wagon, as ye 
war not children, now.' If she die, yer best 
friend is gone, my jewel." 

" No, mammy, you are my best friend, and 
all the world is small loss to me wliile God 
spares you and Marion," replied the affection- 
ate girl. 

" And yet," said Peggy, reproachfully, " ye 
would lave me "and go to a strange land with 
the widow McRea." 

" 0, mammy, dear, Ireland is such a poor, 
worn-out country for the young," said Bessie. 

313 



S14 GEMS OF THE BO (J. 

" I'm longiii' to do something more than just 
breathe,. and what can 1 do in Killyrooke ? " 

Peggy made no reply to this just question. 
After seating the family at table, she said, 
" I can niver ate again till I know how's dear 
Miss Grey. Oh, the tinder, lovin' friend she's 
been to me ! Ate ye, but let me go and pre- 
pare for the setting ofif." 

Twice since they left her had Jiliss Grey 
seen " tlie children," as she still called tlicm, 
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 wiiile she had strength. 

" Are they good girls ? " she asked. " Peg- 
gy, tell me if they have ever grieved you ? 
Speak the truth to me, — you can speak noth- 
ing but truth." 

" They have been iver true, and faithful, 
and lovin', and willin', but," and she turned a 
mournful look on Bessie, " but, she is weary 
o' me, and o' poor, dear Ireland, and is rest- 



GOING TO AMERICA. 315 

less to follow the crowd to America, and my 
heart would die without her smile." 

The 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 tlie dust by a 
double oppression, and is no longer tlie 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 me 
to the grave soon, what would these poor 
children do in that desolate hamlet ? I should 
be well pleased if part of Bessie's portion be 
spent in getting her to America. Place her 
with some trusty friend who is going, and 
at the 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 
her close to your own side. Do not let her 
cross the water unless you do." 

Peggy turned very pale at these words, 
but Bessie, overcome with joy, burst into 
tears. 



316 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Might I make bold to ask," said Pegofy ; 
'' have ye iver got any account of their mother 
or father ? " 

" Never, and I feel very sure both parents 
are dead," replied tlic lady. " Wliy do you 
worry yourself about them ? I told the woman 
you sent to ask, that you must never think of 
them, but enjoy the children that God sent so 
mercifully into your kind hand." 

" I sent no woman, dear heart, nor man, 
nather," replied Peggy, in surprise. 

" One came with questions, she said, from 
you. I sent replies by the nurse, but did 
not see her myself," answered Miss Grey. 

" Well, it's quite mysterious entirely!" ex- 
claimed Peggy ; " but ye are now faint, dear, 
with the talkin'. I'll send all away and sit 
this night by yer side, and as many more 
nights as ye'll suffer me, but niver, niver can 
I repay ye for all the love and marcy ye 
showered on me thim days." 

Miss Grey rallied after this, and there being 
no need of Peggy's services, she insisted on 
her returning to Killyrooke. 



GOING TO AMERICA. 317 

Some bird of the air — if not Paddy Maii- 
non — soon dropped a hint in the hamlet that 
" Miss Grey had left a great fortun' to the 
girls, and had ordered that Bessie with tlie 
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. 

" Ye see, John, darlin', how the people is 
tliiimin' 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 be off by the sun 
risin'." 

'' Whist, Paddy," said his master, '^ and 
don't be spakin' when yer not spoke to." 
And turning to Peggy, he exclaimed, " Where 
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 GEMS OF THE BOQ. 

" Shu ! sliii ! " cried Paddy, •' the grave will 
take care o' iti-clf, and as for tlie few souls 
here, there's none loft that's worth lookin* 
afther. Sec, dears, I liecrcd at tlie bhick- 
smith's that all Irelaiurs goiir soon, and thin 
we'll be left quite alone entirely, and, " 

" Paddy," cried Jolni, as sharply as he 
could say any thing, " if ye don't be quiet 
when yer masther and misthress wish to be 
talkin', I'll send ye out to the cow-house with 
yer ' stiral)out.' " 

" And," continued Paddy, nothing daunted, 
" they said that in England the quane was 
payin' the passage o' whole ship-loads o' her 
paupers to get them to that fine country. 
And the 'Miricans is that glad to get them — 
bein' all rich thimselves, and not a one to give 
their charity to — that they be standin' oh 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, Paddj? ? " 

" And," continued Paddy, deaf to al^. re- 



GOING TO AMERICA. 319 

proof, " I shall soon be ashamed to hold up 
my head in Ireland if the very jDaupers can go 
and not we — such a fine, respictable family, 
— there's not tlie like of us in that country, 
though some of tliim's richer nor we. Whin 
will we start off, dears ? " he cried, implor- 
ingly, " I'm afeared folk'll think we can't raise 
the passage-money." 

After a free discussion of the matter, it was 
decided that Bessie should go with the Widow 
McRea ; who, after residing in America several 
years, and doing well in a little store, had re- 
turned to Ireland for her children, Bell, and 
Rose, whom she liad 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 family. 

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 tender- 
est love could prompt, Mr. Murray, Elder 



320 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

Peter, and others of the little church were 
sent for, the evening before Bessie's departure, 
to commend her to the care of Heaven, and to 
ask God's mercy on the lonely hearts she was 
to leave behind. And in that liour this be- 
loved child was committed fully to the care 
of acovenant-iveeping 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 liad just parted at the cottage ! He 
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'ard no flowers shall blosshom on tliee ; 
Thy herds shall be dead, and thy birds niver sing. 
Thy fowls shall be hatched without feather or wing. 

0-ho-ne ! 



GOING TO AMERICA. 321 

** Thy trees shall grow down'ards, with roots in the ah*, 
No rain shall fall down, but be drought ivery where. 
And why this distrissful confusion ? 'Kase why ? 
'Kase swate Bessie Sheehan's detarmined to fly. 

0-ho-ne '. 

" Mad waves, now I bid ye quite paceful to lie, 
Wild winds, don't ye whistle once more in the sky. 
Old ocean, rock gintle, yer roarin' giv o'er, 
Till the gim o' our cot reach Amirican shore. 

0-ho-ne ! 

** And Bessie, my jewel, whin the Yankees ask ye. 
Why fine Paddy Mannon arn't erossin' the sea, 
Just till thim he's settlin' the farm, and that soon 
With masther, and misthress, and Mar'on he'll come. 

0-ho-ne ! 

*' Then will we 'bide with thim, and wander no more, 
But call yon Ameriky our native shore ; — " 

And while Paddy was still 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. 

21 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A PAINFUL PARTING. 

TO Peggy's amazement, as she and Bessie 
stepped on the ship's deck, tlie first person 
they encountered was Master Timmy in his 
Sunday clotlies, looking very sober. He had, 
for the first time, l)een as good as liis word in 
the matter of" running off." As he could get 
ileither permission nor money to cross the sea, 
he was determined to have at least 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 lialf re- 
proachfully, " See, Timmy, what ye've done 
by stirrin' up my darlin' about "a strange land. 
How could ye be so cruel, boy ? " 

" We'll all follow her soon, Misthress Shee- 
han," he answered, with a frank smile, " for 

322 



A PAINFUL PARTING. 323 

ye'll not 'bide long after her, alid my father'll 
not 'bide long behind me, for goin' I am, and 
that afore long too 1 So cheer up, since ye be- 
lave that all things work for good to thim as 
be good, — and who's better nor Bessie and 
yersilf, dear ? What's tears about ? " 

This was said very bravely, but the color 
deepened on Timmy's cheek, and liis voice 
trembled a little, and Peggy was forced to for- 
get 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 lier 
arms, and calling down, in fervent tones. 
Heaven's " swatest blissings " on her head, she 
left her sitting in tears by the Widow McRea ; 
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 
neck, and cried, " Mammy, go home and tell 



324 GEMS OF THE BOG, 

father to sell tlw farm at once and come to me, 
for I can never breathe the breath o' life away 
from you. And be sure to bring poor Paddy, 
for heM die if left l)cliind, and I'm sure we bo 
just no family at all without bini — the dear, 
fooli.^h man I Will you come soon ? " 

Peggy did not look at the child of her love. 
She dared not trust herself, but answered, " If 
God will, darlin', ye'll see us in a tweFmonth. 
Farewell, farewell, my jewel ! " 

As she and Timmy stepped off the vessel, 
they met a woman in l)lack leading by the 
hand a young girl who was weeping bitterly, 
and who had only a shawl over her head. 
" Tiicre's more folks nor us in sorrow, 
Timmy; yon poor Iambic's to bid farewell to 
one she loves, and may be she has little love to 
go back to, as ye 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 she 
strove to compose herself, and said to the won- 



A PAINFUL PARTING. 325 

deriiig boy, " The voice sounded iiat'ral and 
frightened me for a moment. That's because 
my heart's weak now ; let us haste away, 
dear." And yet she looked back ; but the 
woman was lost in the crowd, and she heard 
only the sailors ordering all on shore who de- 
sired to go. Pressing the boy's hand, as if 
thus she could still the anguish in her heart, 
she led the way to the inn where they were to 
take the post-chaise. 

While waiting the hour for setting off, 
Timmy strove to divert Peggy's mind from the 
sea by talking of liimself and his plans. 

^' Father will niver 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 great fault, I may say, a sin, and — " 

"What me, mysilf? " cried Timmy, in sur- 
prise ; " you surely can't mean that ? " 

" Yes, Timmy, I do mean just that," an- 
swered Peggy. 



326 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" A great fault I And \)\-^y what can it 
be?" cried the hoy, liis fine eyes wide open, 
and bis cheeks aglow wilh wonder. 

" Why, Timmy, ifs the on respectful way ye 
spake o' yer dear fatlicr. Ye remember God 
bids ye to lionor y.M- father and yer niotlier, 
and to obey them in all things." 

'' It would be sore bard to obey the elder 
Mu all tilings,' " replied Timmy, quite relieved 
to find he was not to bo accused of lying or 
theft. " Now, as yer old Paddy Says, * he's a 
stone man, made l)y himself out o' his own 
matarial,' and has no human wakencss about 
him. Ye mind, Misthress Shceiian, when I 
was a small bit o' a boy, and would gather all 
the girlies in the place a1)out me and sew dolls,' 
rags witli them, he called me 'a sheep,' 
and bid me be off playing rough with the 
lads. And now that I'm seekin' to work hard 
like a man, he turns about and bids me go to 
a tailor and learn to sew. I'll not do it if I 
die. I feels the great strength in my bones, 
and I'll let it out, atlicr on the stone or yet on 
the land, — and 111 do iP in America, too! 



A PAINFUL PAIrTING. 327 

That I will. If the elder likes to go with me 
he's wilcome, for laud's pliiitj there, and if 
not, he'll just have to 'bide where he is." 

"Ah, Tim my, my lad, yen's no way to 
spake o' thim that's done so much for ye, and 
that's so proud o' ye," said Peggy. 

" Who's proud o' me, Misthress Shoehan ? " 
asked the boy. "Not my father, sure; he's 
sore ashamed o' me, and always askin' me 
why I arn't like Ned McGee and the Carney 
lads ; and they goes about nights howlin' like 
bears, and stonin' old women's cats, and the 
like. And all the triflin' J does is to whittle 
thread-winders, and gather flowers, and buy 
sugar plums, for the girls ; and for that he 
calls me ' a sheep.' No, none is proud of me, 
but one loves me, — that's my mother." 

" Dear lad. Elder Peter is too proud o' ye 
for a Christian man. He's never done tellin' 
o' yer fine lessons and yer honest behavior; 
and both himself and Mr. Murray is just quite 
proud o' yer Latin larnin', hopin' yerselfwill 
be a schoolmasther yet," said Peggy, trium- 
phantly. 



328 GEMS OF THE BOfJ. 

Timmy laughed outright. " Latin is stuff 
for the like o' me ! I'm not the maldn' o' a 
scholar, and if I should even drag on at the 
hook till I'd get a scliool, woe to tlie urcliins 
benatli me ! Tliis great power o' strengtli 
that's williin my hones must come out and 
strike somewliere ; if not tlie stone or tlie land, 
then on tlie hoys' ))acks. SpaJce ye, tliat has 
such power over tlie elder, and strive to get 
the harness oiX my showldcrs, that I may be a 
man as well as look like one. Ilcrc am I, 
more nor seventeen years old, and yet askin' 
loy father may I do this or that to arn my 
bread ; and so doin' just nothing at all. I'll 
sure be ' a sheep' at this rate." 

Peggy promised him her influence ; and 
while they were talking thus the post-chaise 
drove up. They took their places on the top, 
and were off for the home for which Peggy's 
heart was yearning. She was hoping the love 
yet left her there might fill the blank just 
made by Bessie's departure. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

STOLEN BY THE FOE. 

PEGGY had left Marion in care of the cot- 
tage, with many charges to " be tinder o' 
lier poor, lovin' father, and civil to Paddy, and 
to have all things shinin' on her return." 

Childlike, Marion had dried her tears, and 
begun to picture to herself the beautiful 
things which Bessie would send her from 
America, and to anticipate her own voyage 
thither. She was a great '' tease," and was 
already laying plans to worry the indulgent, 
easy John into speedy preparations for the 
cliange. 

By dinner time she was singing about the 
cottage as merrily as if no empty seat were 
there, and as if the pillow beside her own were 
still to be pressed by tlie bright head which 
had used to lie there. 

329 



330 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

John and Paddy liad at longcli dried their 
tears, and gone to work in a Held at some 
little distance from the house. Towards 
nightfall they heard loud voices in the direc- 
tion of the cottage, and tlien shouts and 
cries. 

" Whist, Paddy," cried John. '' Wliat can 
yon noises be ? " 

"Och," replied Paddy, coolly, "it's on'y 
some o' our neiglibors l)ating the life out o' a 
few o' their spare cjiilder. Wlicn my milkin' 
time comes, I'll go up and quiet the distar- 
bance." 

John smiled, and as the voices ceased ho 
thought no more of ihe circumstances till he 
returned liome and fjund the stool and pail Ijc- 
sidc 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 the 
yard, whither he had gone to milk, holding up 
the little red, shawl Marion always wore at 



STOLEN BY THE FOE. 331 

milking, and crying out, in a tone of agony, 
" Where's our child ? Tlie gypsies or the evil 
sperits has stole her away, and left midniglit in 
my soul. Olione ! who'll give me my child 
afore I dies o' fear ? " 

John grasped the little kerchief, and hold- 
ing it up towards the light, gazed at it as if he 
hoped tliere to read the mystery of her ab- 
sence. Jacob did not look more anxiously at 
the coat of many colors. 

The two'ran from house to house in great 
alarm, hoping to learn the child's fate. The 
neighbors had heard a noise, but " thought 
Paddy was batin' the boys who had stolen his 
ducks, and that the cries came from them." 
They almost ridiculed the fears of these two 
strong men, but they joined in their search 
til rough bog and wood, and finally wandered 
toward the lough. One person had see a strange 
man and a woman, in black talking with 
Marion at the cow-yard, and another had seen 
a strange horse and jaunting car standing at 
the end of the lane ; but that was all. 



'6^2 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

There was littlo sleep that iiiglit in Killy- 
rookc. John and Paddy, weeping like children 
and accompanied by a band of pitying neigli- 
bors, went from house to house, blew the horn 
and draggetUthe lough. 

While the men were abroad, the women, 
each with her rush taper in hand, went to the 
cottage to gossip over the mystery. In their 
womanly tenderness they forgot all differences, 
and all forgave Peggy for her neat dairy, 
lier 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. 

Searching proved all in vain ; so the neigh- 
bors dropped otf, one by one, till only Mr. Mur- 
ray and Elder Peter remained. 

" Have you no suspicion, John, where sho . 
can be?" asked the minister. 



STOLEN BY THE FOE. 333 

" Niver a one," replied John, shaking his 
head mournfllll3^ " And how'll iver I meet 
Peggy after betrayin' her trust thus ? " 

" You, perhaps, liave 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 here, as I'd be 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 lier or to breathe her name, like the 
fool I bees, go talkin' to her ? 

" She asked me about the fortun' Miss 
Grey gave the childern, and where was the 



334 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

gold kept; audi told.licr in a l)clt :il)out the 

darliii' cliilders' waists. And slic asked by 

* 
wl»at vessel would Bessie go., and who would go 

witli her, and all tliat like. 

" Slie said hrrsilf was goin' to America as 
soon as the passage money was arned ; and 
tliat now, in the mane time, slie was about the 
country sarviu' a society o' holy ladies in the 
great city^ by lay in' tax on tlie people and col- 
lictin' money and orphinls for a new 'sliylum 
they war huildin'. Ocli ! ocli I if tliat same 
sarpint witli a human face has stole off our 
jewel ! Wliat an illigant orpldnt slie'd be to 
ornamint a 'sliylum with ! I i)ela7e yon one's 
got licr by my folly. Ocli, ye miserable man, 
Paddy Mannon, will ye niver larn wisdom by 
the sorrow ye bring on yersilfand others ! " 

"- Paddy, did you tell any one that the child- 
ren carried Miss Grey's gold about them ? " 
asked Mr. Murray. 

" Dade I did. I heerd my misthress say she 
was sewin' 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'on's gold 



STOLEN BY THE FOE. 335 

would be there, too ; and that if yon one 
thought to steal it, she'd (ind it unpossible 1 " 

There was now a loud knock at the door, 
and Paddy leaped half way across the floor to 
open it. There was Father Clakey's honest 
old face, flushed with excitement and terror. 
At sight 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 
since he had left his flock that he had met the 
priest face to face. Whenever he had seen 
him coming down the road, he had always 
found it convenient to run into the cow-house 
and draw tlie 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. " Pve a sore fear 
on my heart that evil's come to her through 
the mad boasting o' this fool, Mannon. Come 
out o' that, ye miserable cretur," cried tlie 
priest, striking a heavy blow on the back o' the 
settle. Paddy shrieked as if it had fallen on 



oo6 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

his head, but did not appear. '• Come out and 
tell what ye revaled to yoii woman in black, 
after ye left the smith's shop whore ye were 
boasting about the gold. I'm told, sir," he 
said, addressing Mr. Murray, " by the man o' 
the shop, tliat this woman followed him out, 
talkin' with him, till he got afraid o' her and 
ran home over the fields." 

Tiioy could hear Paddy \s loud l^reathing and 
almost the beating of his heart; but they could 
not get him out of his hiding-place till Mr. 
Murray 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 crept out, pale as one of his own ghosts, 
and whispered, " I knows no more ; Fs told ye 
all." 

'' \yiiat did yon woman say to ye, Man- 
non ? " cried Father Clakey, stamping his foot 
on the floor. 

" She — she — och ! she said she war akin to 
our chil — childer ! that hersilf was ather their 
mother or their cusin, — shcM forget which! 
But that bein' their kin, she'd get enough o' 



STOLEX BY THE FOE. 337 

the gold to carry her across the sea, — what- 
iver ! och ! my heart ! " 

"And why, then, didn't ye tell this at once 
to yer misthress, ye miserable loon ? " cried 
the priest. 

" Bekase, yer, — yer riverence, she said if 
I'd tell a word she spake, she'd bate me afore 
all the 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 iver the 
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. The 
House o' Corriction is the place for ye, 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 
childer." 

" 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 

22 



338 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

no money about her ; if she find that out too 
late, she'll set her adrift in a strange place. 
Though if she had tlie two in America, she'd 
make capital out o' tliem ; — Heaven help 
them, the hue rispectful things they war to 
ivery body, I've had men out sarching for 
the child till I got this word, and tlien 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. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 

IT was part of Timmy's plan not to appear 
to have been far away, and, at bis leisure, 
to drop in at bis borne as if be bad only been 
at bis cousins', wliere be often passed a nigbt. 
So wben be and Peggy were set down at " tbe 
turn o' tbe road," be insisted on walking to 
Killyrooke witb ber, carrying ber baskets. 

It was just at nigbtfall tbey entered tbe 
cottage. Mr. Murray, Elder Peter and some 
balf dozen otber friends were tbere again, con- 
soling Jobn and Paddy, wbo bad spent tbe day 
in unavailing tears. 

' Wben Peggy saw tbese grave men sitting 
in her little parlor in solemn conclave, she was 
surprised. As no smile ligbted any face in 
the group, she took alarm, and turning very 

339 



340 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

pale, cried, " whore's my darliii' child, that 
she's not at the gate to greet me ? " 

Still no one spoke, and she cried out, 
" John, Where's my child ? " 

Poor John hurst into tears, and could not 
reply. Mr. Murray tlieii said, calmly, " Mis- 
tress Sheehan, you arc not of tliosc wlio expect 
to receive good at the hand of the Lord and 
not evil. You have scon too much of His 
mercy to douht Ilim iv)w, even thougli clouds 
and darkness surround Him." 

" Is she dead, then ? tell me, dear hearts, 
and not kape me in this great fear. I, that 
ha' given all to God, did not withhold her. 
And if He has taken her to Himself, He's took 
no more nor His own." 

Encouraged hy her calmness, John hegan a 
recital of the painful story. As soon as " the wo- 
man dressed in hlack " was mentioned, Peggy 
cried out, " I saw her, darlin', with my own 
two eyes, and I heard her voice. It was my 
larnbie she war draggin' in tears, on shipboard 
— ocli, it war yon fearful woman ; and I 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 341 

might have saved the child — Timmy and I. 
She war at our very hand, wern't she, dear 
boy?" 

Timmy nodded, and Elder Peter looked 
surprised at his knowing what was seen on 
shipboard ; but he was too shrewd to ask ques- 
tions. 

" If ye had told me the darlin' were hid 
safe in the grave, I'd ha' done like David when 
his child war dead ; but to be in her hands," 
exclaimed Peggy. 

" She's not in her hands nor yet in her 
power. Mistress Sheehan," replied Mr. Mur- 
ray. " She's as safe now, surely, as if she 
were in the grave, and the same love watches 
over her. Bessie is on the ship, and will re- 
port 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 you not to cast away your confidence, 
which hath great recompense of reward. God 
has brought you through great and sore trials 
already, and be assured He will not now give 
your peace over into the hand of your enemy." 



342 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" He will not, dear Mr. Murray," cried 
Peggy, smiling through her tears. '' That's 
an inimy that's vanquih^hed and tliat has lost 
her power. She may plot evil, hut can never 
carry it out agin us, for we're hid under the 
shadow o' the Almighty. Once, friends, in 
the midnight, I had a sore struggle ahout 
yon one ; and I thought she'd yet triumph, 
hut the great peace come and rolled like a 
hillow o' love o'er my soul, and the fear was 
gone, and has never come hack since then. 
Her voice makes me start for a moment, hut 
then I rememhers that she's under my feet, 
and no weapon formed agin me or mine can 
prosper. Ye may think this hold talk, friends, 
for a poor weak sinner, hut I've had the word 
o' the 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 he it unto 
thee." 

When John and Peggy opened the door to 
let their guests out, they saw several of their 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 343 

luimble neighbors waiting at the gate for their 
departure, that they might go in and sympa- 
thize with Peggy. Once within the cottage, 
they commenced, in true Irish style, to weep 
and howl ; while 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 which astonished them, said, '' Take 
seats, kind neighbors, and cease this noise. 
It breaks my heart, and it will not bring back 
my child. Nather let me hear any that would 
befriend me curse a soul that God has made. 
Hundreds o' prayers has gone up to Heaven 
from 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 made 
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 



344 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

being being one of lier professions, for the 
practice of which she always expected to be 
paid. 

" Yes, Betty, I'm heart-sick for my child, 
but I'm not goin' to rave like an onrasonin' 
woman. I belave she's in the Lord's hand, 
and whoevcr's there is safe. Ye all know, 
dear women, how I loves the child ; so look at 
me now and see what strengtli God can give 
to a poor weak mortal. Tliis is the comfort 
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 in a fiery furnace, and others again in 
a den full up o' lions ; and couldn't it bear 
mo 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." 

This last sentence set the poor neighbors to 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 345 

howling and weeping again, for they realized 
the sad loss this family would be to poor 
Killyrooke, whence the younger people, and 
indeed all who were able to work, were going 
as ^ast as they could get money to pay their 
passage lo America. 

" Cease yer howlin' there, ould bodies," 
cried Paddy, who had slipped off his chair at 
the departure of " the fine, company " and seat- 
ed himself 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 my- 
silf in pertic'lar ! Why, whin I raches yon 
illigant country, I'll be no more ' Paddy Man- 
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 Sheehan,' and ' Mish Mar'on 
Sheehan,' and ' Misther Mannon,' as well as 



346 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

the grand lady and gintleman — John and 
Peggy — above us all ! " 

" Paddy, cease yer nonsinse now, like a 
good man, wliilc I liave a few words with the 
pityin' 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 tlic milkin' with licr strong young 
hands, and Sullivan's wife will make the 
butter as nate 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 lie was laid up o' the shivers." 

" Ten thousand thanks to ye all, good neigh- 
bors," 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 



PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 347 

used to do ; and beside that, if any o' ye are 
o'erburdened, I'll lend a hand with the needle. 
I'd wish, dear neighbors, to be that lovin' and 
helpful to ye while I 'bide here, 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 
he said, ' I will send ye another Comforter,' 
and ye see he has fulfilled his word to me. 
I'd be wild now only for that. He's as ready 
to comfort ye, as me, if ye'll but go to Him." 



CHAPTER XXXL 

NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 

NAN 0' Gorman liad been for some time 
plotting against the gold which she fan- 
cied Miss Grey was to leave in vast snras to the 
Shechan girls. Having heard tliat a mystery 
hung abont the fate of their mother, she had 
walked all that distance to learn what slie could 
from Miss Grey, saying that Peggy had sent her. 
Although slie got little information for the 
trouble, she saw enough to satisfy lier that 
there was wcaltli in the liousc ; and concluded 
that, as there were no cliildrcn, tlicre would be 
no legal heirs to it. When, therefore, she 
heard, first by rumor and then from Paddy Man- 
non, that the girls wore now ricli, and carried 
tlieir gold about their waists, she thought her 
hour had come to reacli America — that land of 
golden dreams. She had therefore laid her plans 

348 



NEW HOJIFS IX THE NEW WORLD. 340 

for sailing in the same sliip with Bessie, re- 
garding the meek widow McRea as no obstacle 
whatever in the way she had marked out. Ifc 
then occurred to her that she '' miglit as well 
have both fortunes as one ; " so, after Peggy 
bad gone in the day's post-chaise with Bessie, 
she, with an accomplice, had watched about the 
cottage till slie was sure Marion was alone, and 
then leaving their horse and jaunting-car in a 
by-l»ne, accosted the child as she came out to 
milk. 

Marion, of course, was fearless of danger, 
and cliatted freely of the family plans. Nan 
induced her to leave the yard, and go to the 
lane to see the jaunting-car in which she was 
to be driven to the sea-port that night. Once 
there, she was pressed in, and, seated on a 
trunk, was driven off in a state of dreadful 
terror, having by this time recognized in the 
woman in black the one who had shouted so 
roughly to herself and her sister on the road- 
side, some little time before. 

Nan was very tender in her manner towards 
her, and told her that she was her mother. She 



350 GEMS OF THE BO a. 

said that long ago, being in great trouble, she 
had " taken lave of lier sinscs and wandered 
off," and that when afterwards she " came 
back to lier wits," Miss Grey and Peggy liad 
her cliildren, and refused to give them up ; l)ut 
that now, finding Bessie was^ going across tlie 
sea, slie liad resolved to foHow her, and to have 
both her children to herself. 

" Wliy, then, couldn't you tell tliis to our 
dear mammj," asked the child, " and not 
break her heart l)y stealing me ? " 

" A body can niver stale what's already lier 
own, darliii'," replied tlic woman. " Kape yo 
quite asy, and ye'U see ye niver had sich a 
friend as mysilf afore." 

The man, too, wlio drove, was kind and 
jovial, and described America, where he had 
been, as a glorious country, in which it was 
holiday all tlie week, and gold was to be had 
for taking. 

Nan 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 

A.S the sun rose bigli, the party neared the 
wharf, and the man, setting down Nan's small 
trunk, drove off to witness the sailing of the 
vessel from a hight beyond. Leadhig Marion 
by one hand, and dragging her trunk with tlie 
other, Nan pushed and elbowed her way< 
through the crowd, with an independence that 
would have satisfied the most ardent advocate 
of woman's right to any work and any post. 

Bessie was astounded by the sight of her 
sister and the tale of the coarse woman, but 
with her natural delicacy she strove to hide 
her, anguish from the rude company on the 
deck. The Widow McRea, holding fast to her 
own children, lest Nan might claim them too, 
accused her of kidnapping Marion, but her 
voice was soon drowned in a torrent of words ; 
and then the deck was cleared of all but pas- 
sengers, and the ship got under way. 



As soon as they were fairly off. Nan walked 
about on a tour of discovery, to see if there 



352 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

miglit not be some of lier acquaintances on 
board. Bessie calmed Marion's fears by saying 
tliat tliey would find some Christian hearts in 
America to pity tliem. 

" Do you think she's our motlier, Bessie ? " 
^sked Marion. 

*/ No," replied Bessie. " I think she's the 
body our dear mammy dreaded so greatly. 
But, dear child, God will 'hide with us on sea 
as well as on land if we but trust Him ; and 
we will trust Him, come life or death." 

It took but a few liours to consign the 
Widow McRea and tlie four girls to their 
berths, where tliey spent most of their time. 
But when the Atlantic Ocean assailed the 
equanimity of Xan O'Gorman, lie found more 
tlian his match, and came off beaten. It 
would have taken two oceans tossed by the 
wildest storms to lay her 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 
New York. The girls clung frantically to the 



poor- widow, lest tlicy might be separated froiii 
her ; but on the vessel's touching at Castle 
Garden, Nan seized a hand of each, and dragged 
them to the nearest hack. She ordered the 
driver to secure her box, and then drive them 
to some house kept bv one of her own country 
people. Bessie told the man she would not go 
with this woman, and Marion reached out her 
arms from the carriage window, calling piti- 
fully after the Widow McRea. But before the 
bewildered creature could reply, the hackman 
mounted his box, touched his horses with the 
whip, and drove oflf 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 her 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. 



Bessie and Marion made quite a little stir 

23 



354 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

m tlie Intelligence-oflBce, whither Nan escorted 
them on the third clay after their arrival, in 
search of nurse places. Such neat, pretty and 
modest little maidens were not met with every 
day in that place. 

Here tliey attracted at once the attention of a 
fine-looking lady who was looking for two girls 
to act as cliild's maids for herself and sister, 
living door by door. 

" What church do you attend ? " was one of 
the questions she put to them. 

" We're Protestants, ma'am," replied Bessie. 
" It was to the Presbyterian church we went at 
home." 

" But it's Catholics they'll be in this coun- 
try, ma'am," exclaimed Nan, looking resolute- 
ly, almost defiantly, at the lady. 

Bessie turned pale, but collecting herself in 
a moment, she looked imploringly into the kind 
face before her, and said, in tremulous tones, 
" I fear God, dear lady, and I'd never deny my 
faith. We are Protestants, like the dear ones 
who taught us to love and trust Him only. If 
you'll look no farther, but take us two with 



NEW HOMES m THE NEW WORLD. 355 

you, you'll never repent it, for we'll be faith- 
ful, and the Lord will bless you for having pity 
on us." 

This was strange talk in a place where ser- 
vants were questioning ladies, and making 
terms for them to accept. The lady was 
charmed with their pleasant manners, and witli 
their artless expressions of trust in God, and 
she announced to the person who kept the 
office that her choice was made.- 

" But, 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 suffer them 
to have half o't then, and the other half will 
go to support their poor widely mother." 

" But, my good woman," said tlie lady, 
" you look stronger than either of them. Why 
not take a [)laco and support yourself? " 

" Och, dear lady, I'm a lone widdy, don't ye 
see? Tlic Widdy Sheehan." 

" 1 know no reason why widows sliould not 
labor ns well as other women, if they have 
strength to do it," said the lady, who was as 
resolute as herself. 



356 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Will, will, I must git a bit over the sea- 
feeliii', and liuiit two or three cousins first," 
replied Nan ; " and now ifye'll only take them 
off my hands at once, I'll sind tlieir box after 
them, and visit them once a week — small 
consolation — " and shaking all tlirce cordially 
by the hand, she saw tliciu walk off together, 
aild then seated liersclf to make now acquain- 
tances. 

Mrs. Maxwell and h3r sister were cliarmed 
with their neat little nurses who were capable 
and patient at tiicu* work, and wlio 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 the 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 fearful thing for a 
woman to come down from great prosperity, as 
mysilf have done. If ye could know my fate, 
ye'd cry the full o' yer two hands o' tears. I 
had a lovely cottage with a farm to't, and 



NEW HOMES IX THE HEW WORLD. 357 

COWS, and pigs, and a donkey, and ducks, and 
geese, and hins, and a sliilf full o' red and 
green delf ware, and feather bids, and a row 
o' milkpans as would reach from here to where 
our ship landed," — a distance of about four 
miles. " And och, my heart ! the husband I 
had ! He was the ilegintest 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 he been dead ? " asked 
Mrs. Maxwell. 

^' Dead ? Indade, ma'am, it's not dead at all 

* 

that he is," cried Nan, intent only on making 
out a good story. 

'' But you told me you were a widow," said 
the lady. 

Nan's memory had failed her for a moment, 
but she was not one to give up her point. 
" So he is dead to me, dear," she sobbed out, 
" but 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 



358 GEMS OF THE. BOG. 

that's lost mine a worse way." And moving 
lier chair close to Mrs. Maxwell, she whis- 
pered, confidentially, " He turned me out o' 
doors, dear, and my lovely cliilder, and there's 
an evil woman now enjoyin' all my good 
things, — my farm, and my iligant cups and 
saucers, and nhie skeins o' grey yarn I spun, 
and — and — and my husband." 

" But your daughters speak very tenderly 
of their father, and tell me how ho used to 
pray for them," said the lady. 

" Och, dear heart," cried Nan, " they like 
lim because there's much of his evil natur in 
thimselves. Didn't ye see how mane they 
"\rere, not wantin' me to have all their 
wages ?" 

" They ought not to give you even half," 
said the lady. " I shall insist on their keeping 
most of their wages, and you must go to work 
yourself." 

" Och," cried Nan, " and what do you think 
I came here for ? I could live by work at 
home. I had a father's house full of plinty, 
and would niver ha' left it only that these two 



NEW HOMES IxY TEE NEW WORLD. 359 

evil-minded girls ran off and hid in the ship, 
and I had 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 
Mrs. Maxwell. 

"Once a month, is it?" cried Nan, ris- 
ing ; " indade 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, 
she slammed the door behind her in a way 
that told poorly for her gentle blood. 

That evening, after the little ones were 
asleep, Mrs. Maxwell, as was her custom, went 
into the nursery to see that all was right, and 
there she found her little nurse in tears. 

" Why, Bessie, what's the matter, child ? " 
she asked. 

" 0, ma'am," cried the girl, " there's a 
heavy trouble lying on my heart, and I'm 
afraid I'll die in this strange land, and leave 
my darlin' sister alone." 



360 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" Bessie, I'm sure there's something wrong 
between you and your mother, and I insist ou 
knowing what it is ; I will protect you, if you 
are doing right," said the lady, kindly. 

" 0, ma'am, wlicn we were in tlie 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 shig more till she finds iis — I'm 
sure o' that.". 

" Bessie, is this woman your mother ? " 
asked Mrs. Maxwell. " She neither speaka 
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 nunnery 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 



NMJW HOMES IX THE XE]V WORLD. 361 

Mrs. Maxwell, with tears iu her eyes. " Teil 
me the whole story, and Mr. Maxwell will pro- 
tect you as if you were his own." 

Thus encouraged, Bessie told all she knew 
of herself and the Sheehans, and the little she 
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 
children 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 even under such 
painful circumstances. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

paddy's wisdom. 

PEGGY'S love for the children whom God 
had placed in her care, was truly a mo- 
ther's love ; and none but a mother can im- 
agine the anguish which at times filled her 
soul while John was busy settling his af- 
fairs to follow them. But scarcely did that 
anguisli come, before the " great peace " 
would roll over lier 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, which those only know whose hearts are 
fixed on God, and who have entered into an 
everlasting covenant with Him. 

The knitting and the singing went on as 
usual at the sunset hour ; but her guests were 

362 



PADDY'S WISDOM. 3G3 

leaving one by one, as their families deserted 
their miserable homes for better ones over the 
sea. Her work was going before her, and 
therefore she felt less reluctance at leaving 
Ireland than if her field were growing about 
her. 

As the preparations were going on, John 
said, '' And now, my jewel, I must spake to 
ye o' the Maid o' Longford. I suppose ye 
couldn't sell her ? " 

"• No more than I could sell one 'o my 
children," cried Peggy. " She's more than 
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 as if she had 
the power o' pityin' me ; and she loved me, 
too. She's not young, the poor dear, more 
than ourselves, but she'll be useful several 
years yet. So I've resolved to give her to Mr. 
Murray ; and should his family die, or follow 
us over the sea, to have her left for the next 
minister that takes his place, and always to 
'bide on that land." 



S64 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

" That's wise indado ! " cried John. " Elder 
Peter will buy Silverhorn, and will be as tinder 
o' her as I have been." 

"■ I hope thin he'll not fade her 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 tliat 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 tliat know ye laugh 
at ye and no more ; but in America, where 
none wears short clothes, they'll think ye're an 
idiot. Go to the workhouse and give thim 
to old Dinnis. They'll fit him, and kape him 
warm many a winter if he nades them." 

*' Och ! but what fine thoughts are always 
comin' into yer head and out o' yer mouth, 
darlin' ! " exclaimed Paddy. " And won't the 
old man dance, spite o' his rheumatics, whin 
he sees himsilf in thim fine clothes ! " and 
springing up the ladder that led to his loft, 
Paddy tied the clothes up in a bundle and de- 



PADDY'S WISDOM. 365 

parted, much to the relief of Peggy, who had 
feared strong resistance on his part. We are 
sorry to say, however, that he went no farther, 
than the cow-house, where he stowed the bun- 
dle away among his treasures in a " deal 
chest ; " and then sat down long enough to go 
to the workhouse and 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 either too poor or too old to 
emigrate. While Peggy, in gentle tones, was 
giving them her parting advice and blessing, 
Master Timmy walked in, radiant with excite- 
ment. 

"The battle's won without blood, Misther 
Sheehan ! " he cried. I' got twenty pounds o' 
money, and the free consint o' the Elder to ac- 
company ye. When he saw I would go, he 
gave consint to save me from the sin o' disobe- 
dience, the dear man ; and he'll soon follow ; 
for nather he nor the lovin' mother will brathe 



366 . GEMS OF THE BOG. 

long out o' sight o' me. I'll show them 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 ha' been fine, indeed, if I, 
after I'd stirred up half tlie 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 
liini. lie tliouglit these remarks of Timmy's 
rather personal ; so, turning round abruptly he 
said, " Pho, ycr 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 
Iiis 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 hoe 
potatoes, if she but have good health and com- 
mon sinse ; but put the best o' thim on a huge 
block o' granite, and bid her hew out a monu- 
ment or an ornamental gate-post, and see what 
work shell make on't! Setting the maids 



PADDY'S WISDOM. . 367 

aside, ye can put an idiot on his knees, and 
lie can pull weeds as well as a giant or a col- 
lege-larned man ; but set him to hewing 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 Peter made as fine work 
on't as the poor fool, afore he'dlarned," replied 
Paddy. " Ah Timmy, lad, the arth is the ma- 
terial for an honest man to delve in ! " 

"The arth's filthy," said Timmy, to draw 
Paddy out ; " a man can never work in it 
without 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 Misthress used to read to us 
that when He made his first man, and had 
ivery thing afore him to selict from, didn't he 
pass by the stones, the jewels, and the gold 
and the silver and the tin, and make him a fine 
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 tliought 



GEMS OF THE BOG. 

— that farmin's the noblest work at all ; and 
while I'm doin' 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 yer Protestant Bible tells 
too, aboot a man that wint out to sow, and 
about a husbandman that had a vineyard ; but 
will ye show me the place where's mintioned 
a man that stood hackin' away at a gravestone 
or a gate-post ? Ye'll not find it at all." 

Timmy was a little crest-fallen by Paddy's 
reasoning, but lauglied it off by saying, " Paddy, 
the church was chated when ye were put on a 
farm to work. Ye sliould be aitlier a priest or 
a parson, with all the fine thoughts ye have. 
What war ye tliinkin' so grave about when I 
came in, with yer head out o' the casement, 
and yer eyes lookin' up at the clouds ? " 

'• Well, Timmy, lad, it war fine thoughts I 
had entirely you time ! I war lookin' at the 
moon, and thinkin' how neglected-like she 
war, and how light sot by o' most people. 
Hapes thinks a dale o' the sun, bekase he 
stares so fierce down on us, and makes such a 



PADDY'S WISDOM. 369 

show o' himsilf. And bekase the 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 without 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 the moon that's 
saved many a fine life ! " 

" But Paddy, man," cried Timmy, " there'd 
be no light at all in tlie 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 Pve as many eyes as these 'stronomies 
has ? And can't I see that the sun's no where 
about to be givin' her light? He's gone en- 
tirely out o' the way afore the moon rises at 
all ! It's a great trick wise men has got 

24 



370 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

o' these days, telliii' such stuff aud thinkiii' 
they'll make onlarncd folks bclave 'em agin 
their wits ; but I'm not one o' tlie fools that'll 
do it. I'll bclave me owu^ eyes aud me own 
sinses afore I'll belave Mr. Murray himself, — 
'dade T will. One o' his boys was foolin' me 
as we walked home together from the post- 
office, one night, by tcUiu' me that some o' the 
stars he pointed out was made o' dippers ; — 
as if he thought I was fool enough to belave 
him ! Dippers, indade ! " 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

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 they're new off the ship, 
and are suffering from tlie sport the lads are 
making of their old-fashioned Irish clothes. 
Let's cross this path, and give them a hand and 

371 



372 GEMS OF THE BOO. 

a kind word. Maybe some o' tliein arc home- 
less and friendless. And it may be a long day 
before tliey fmd such friends as God raised up 
for us at the very first. Perhaps tlicre'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, kindly, to the one woman of the party. 
" What part o' poor Ir.land arc you from ? " 

" Coouty Kirry, me and these,''^ she replied, 
pointing to three rough-looking fellows on tlie 
bench beside her. " Thim two is from Clare, 
and yon man with his back to us, — him in 
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 MEETING. 373 

threw her arms round the neck of the rough 
old emigrant, and wept aloud for joy. Bessie, 
too, put her arms about him and- kissed him, 
and called him " a darlin', kind old creatur'," 
and clapped her hands and laughed for joy, all 
■unconscious, for the moment, of the crowd of 
idlers they were attracting. 

" And where are mammy, and father, and 
all who came with ye ? And will ye take us to 
them now ? And how long were ye on the 
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 them. 

" Ye see, my darlin's, y^r father had the 
paper with Misther Mixwill's place wrote on 
it, so I had to trust my mimory. That failed 
me, and IVe 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' thim walk 
up jintlemen's steps, — and yet not a body in 



374 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

all Anieriky seemed ever to ha' heerd o' yer 
comin' at all." 

" And who are these witli you, Paddy ? " 
asked Bessie. 

" Ocli, dear, tliey're poor imioceat 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 the fine 
sights, poor things ! " 

" But 0, Paddy, why did mammy ever let 
you bring those fearful lookin' clothes with 
ye ? " asked Bessie. 

" She don't know I have them on at all, 
dear, but tliinks 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 tliey 
should see for once that I had fine clothes, and 
that a respictable man bewilled thim to me, if 
I niver 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." 



A JOYFUL MEETING. 375 

«* 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 place 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'm 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 his coat. 
" Dears," he said mournfully, " I used to 
think Ameriky all the hiven I'd iver ask for, 
but now I'm here, tho heart is as heavy and 



876 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

cold as a stone in my brist. IVe left the 
bones o' Meg and little' Pat — him as war 
Johnny Sheehan — 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 niver do that in this fine 
place." 

" Paddy," said Bessie, " I haven't asked you 
how ye left all the friends in Killyrooke and 
Cloynmally, — Mr. Murray's family, and — and 
— and Elder Peter, too ; I hope he was well ? " 

" All's well, dear, and partic'lar the Elder. 
He's thrivin' fine on the stones he ates, 
and growin' every day 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 left ? " she asked, 
in surprise at Paddy's manner. 

" Well, dear child," cried Paddy, " he was 



A JOYFUL MEETING. 377 

living when we sailed ; but Timmy will never 
cross the sea to America." 

" Was Just 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, darlin' ; whin 
ye come to us your mammy will revale 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 on the ship — one 
Teddy Flask." 

" Who is he ? I never heard of him," said 
Bessie. 

" Well, he's ather a cousin to me, or Fm 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 I'll do to her," he 
added. 



378 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

"Paddy, go on now, and we'll tell you all at 
night," said Bessie. " Our time has come to 
be at home." 

When the little nurses reached Mr. Max- 
well's they found their father waiting them. 
The joyful meeting was almost as grateful to 
Mrs. Maxwell as to themselves, for she had 
now lieard all their story from John, and was 
prepared to welcome the whole family to her 
heart. 

The girls went with John to meet their 
beloved mammy, and to be surprised by the 
pleasant and merry face of Master Timmy, who 
had accompanied them ! 

" Wliy, Timmy, lad," cried Bessie, " Paddy 
made me believe that you were dead. I was 
afeared to ask my father, lest 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 consint rather 
than suffer me to come without. And the 
darlin' mother pladed that he'd give me all 
the clothes and tools and money I'd nade, and 



A JOYFUL MEETING. 379 

send me off with his blessin'. And it'll be 
a short day afore ye'll see them all here, that's 
if the Elder can lave Mr. Murray behind." 

" But why, then, didn't t/ou come to seek us, 
Timmy, and not let Paddy give me yon fearful 
scared" asked Bessie. 

" I stayed here to watch the boxes," said 
Timmy. " 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 we see 
in a short space, but him in ' the ould masther's 
shute ' that we thought safe in the workhouse, 
goiu' off the steps 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 old Ireland and young America, 
hand in hand ! ' Ye'd ha' thought he'd 
known the lads all his life by the tarms they 
was on ; he givin' them Irish pennies, and 
singin' Irish songs to them ifore he'd been two 



380 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

hours off the ship. He called the stupid loons 
he was ladin' about, ' these poor sthrangers in 
a sthrange land,' and said he must put himself 
about getting work and homes for them on the 
morrow ! Ye'd a thouglit he'd lived in Amer- 
ica all his life, and had hapes of influence in 
it. There's one thing we've done for America, 
already ; we've brought her a man, the like o' 
whom, for wisdom and folly, she never saw 
before." 



CHAPTER XXXIY. 

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 their 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 soon made her humble city 
home shine as brightly as the cottage in Killy- 
rooke had done ; and her grateful heart was 
gladdened every Sunday evening by seeing the 
pleasant faces of her children again at her 
table. 

But tlicse " Gems of the Bog " did not sit sel- 
fishly and quietly down to rejoice in their deliv- 

381 



382 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

erance from enemies, and their safe conduct to 
a land flowing with milk and honey. They 
looked about at once for work, each one ask- 
ing, " What shall I render unto the Lord for 
all His benefits toward me ? " 

Peggy soon found neighbors who needed 
help and comfort, and without breathing a 
word against their faith, she talked to them of 
that wdiich 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 tlie store, and in the neighborhood 
where he lived. Relieved from the pressure 
of his old conviction at home — that all had 
known his sin and therefore regarded him as a 
hypocrite, — he 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 now and then for a chat, 
and they too would listen, and sometimes sing. 
Mr. Maxwell, who was himself an earnest 
worker in the same good cause, supplied John 



THE OLD FOE AGAIN. 383 

with books of interest to read and to lend to 
his neighbors ; 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 desire 
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 in 
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 



384 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

under the green shade ; and he exclaimed, 
" And whin did ye lose yer eyes, Nan ? " 

" I'm not Nan 0' 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, his 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 Mannon all the way over the 
sea to tormint 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 Carforny, 
where they gets high wages for sittin' still. 
Don't till on me, for I'm sore afraid o' yon 
starn Misther Mixwill, who thritened to 'rist 
me ; and I'll promise niver more to go nare 
the Sheehans while I live. Will ye plidge yer 
honor ? " 

'' No," said Paddy, " Pll call the first polish- 
man I see, and get ye put into prison for life." 

And Paddy, in his zeal to expose the impos^ 



TEE OLD FOE AGAIN, 385 

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 had little idea of the vastness 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 Xan's genealogy, and on the 
fate which had " well nigh swipt the blood 
o' the race off the face o' the arth ontirely." 

His audience became quite interested in 
Nan's history, and Paddy, seeing this, greu 
eloquent, and throwing back his head, gave 
vent to a torrent of " varses." 

** Och, lads o' Ameriky ! Sons o' the free ! 
I'd like to be makin' a bargain with ye. 
That ye'll jine me in sarchin this wide city o'er. 
Till we bring Nan 0' Gorman a Justice afore. 

** Nather silver nor gold has poor Paddy to give, 
But he'll love ye and bL'.ss ye as long as ye live, 
If ye'll help him to clare her quite off on the sea , 
For he'U niver rest asy in the land where she be ! " 

Of course this and much more of the same 



386 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

style charmed the boys, and many of them fol* 
lowed Paddy when he moved on, asking him 
where he lived, and if he made poetry for a 
living. 

Paddy was so flattered that he was tempted 
to tell a lie, and own himself " a varse-maker 
by trade whereby he arned a line livin', howl- 
in' at funerals and singin' at fairs in the ould 
countliry ; " but he said he had changed his 
business in this city, " and was now tamester 
to Mr. Mixwill, ontirely." 

At dinner-time Paddy went home, his face 
radiant with good news. 

"Look, dear," he said to Peggy, "I've fine 
news to tell ye. I've found Nan, and I have 
consorted with a score o' boys to delude her off 
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 us, and I hope the Lord will pity and 
save her," said Peggy. 

" I'd be very sorry for that, for it would be 
quite discouragin' entirely if she was trated 



THE OLD FOE AGAIN. 387 

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 tratement as oursilves," exclaimed 
Paddy. 

" Oh, poor man, it's little we deserves from 
the hand o' the Lord ourselves." said Peggy. 

" Humph ! I'll niver give in but I desarves 
a finer heaven nor she ! " 

" Ye desarve no heaven at all, Paddy. If 
any o' us be so happy as to enter in at last, it 
will be o' free grace." 



CHAPTER XXXY. 

PROMOTION AND REWARD. 

WHEN the Shccliaii family had been about 
six montlis 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. " Pm 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 

388 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 389 

Mixwill seemiu' to think there was jist only one 
man in the place ! It war ' Sheehan ' here 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 steppin' 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 Ids 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 tlie 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 unnerable 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'll 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 



390 GEMS OF, THE BOG. 

followed us to Ameriky, and will hunt us till 
we hides in the grave. Och, och, wliy iver did 
I lave my own peaceful grave in Ireland, and 
come here to be buried in a strange man's 
grave ? " 

When John came in, and " the lad " was 
gone, Peggy said, witli a smile, '' Paddy says 
ye are tarned out o' yer place, and made a 
coal liaver, dear." 

" A coal haver ! " cried John. " The sim- 
ple fellow has been listening to tlie talk o' two 
gentlemen with Mr. Maxwell al)out me. It 
seems, darlin', that the liearts of some 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 thimselves 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 talkin' to all that will listen. 
They had heard through Mr. Maxwell o' our 
poor efforts among our neighbors, and came to 
see would he let me off to be a worker for 
them — a ' colporter,' as they calls it. And 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 391 

that's 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 me 
worthy, I'd begin at once. I really belave, 
darlin', that I've 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 ? I'm going to strive 
hinceforth to think only on the love and the 
marcy that has washed them all away." 

Paddy's only remark, when he 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," 
he made himself very useful among the lada 



392 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

whom Joliii gathered into his kitchen in the 
evening to listen to reading and to be kept out 
of mischief. Paddy aided greatly in the work 
by forming acquaintances among the young 
men and boys, whom he decoyed into the 
" tachin'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 singing ; and scores thus 
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 ofibrts, and pulling his hat over his 
eyes, said, " Misthress darlin, there come a 
very troubling thought into my head when 1 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 393 

was strivin' to drag in these wild lads to hear 
the siiigin' 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, becase I thought, bein' a Catholic, I'd push 
into heaven among the crowd, few o' whom 
war as good as mysilf. And since I've turned 
Protestant I've trusted that I'd git in for bein' 
in such fine company. And jist now I'm 
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 ? Becase I hasn't any." 

" I'm glad, my dear man, that ye've found it 
out," cried Peggy, "for I've 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, " I'm surprised 
that I've been let live all this time, hatin' 



394 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

ivery body that didn't jist admire us, and 
scorniii' all that warii't equally grand. And 
now 1 look worse to mysilf nor even Nan. She 
did as she war tached, and I didn't. And 
what'll I do now ? " 

" Yc'U just have to do what every other sin- 
ner does, Paddy, before he finds pace ; believe 
what Jesus says, and give yersilf to Him." 

'' I'll do that, 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 free gift. 

*' ' Jesus, Thy blood and righteousness 
My beauty are, my glorious dress ; 
'Mid flaming worlds 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 nor a lie on yer 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 395 

tongue ! Look at the inarcy I've had o' the Lord. 
Such religious laruiu', — catechisms and com- 
mandments and psalms and hums bate into me 
from the time I left the workhouse, till this 
hour! And I've laughed at the catechism, and 
broke the commandments, and twisted the holy 
varses into nonsiuse. Mjsilf 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 
set 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 
clarks in Mr. Mixwell's store that ye were 
niver common farmer people at home, but that 
my masther war brother to Harply Hall, and 



396 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

that we only tuk a freak and came off to 
Ameriky iu disguish for a little sport, — the 
way Yictoory of England do at tunes ! I told 
them we laughed at the pittance Mr. Mixwill 
gives us in wages, and often threw it away 
among the boys on our road homo, and that I 
war yer 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 yer sin, and humble yersilf before 
them, and tell them ye've repinted and, are 
seeking the Lord," said Peggy. 

Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, 
" I used to think if iver I could grow rich and 
liavo 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' while I lives ! " 

" Paddy," said his mistress, " there's one only 
can give ye pace, poor man, and ye know 
wliere to find Him. Go to Him and confess 
yor sin, and ask Him to pity and pardon ye 



PROMOTION AND REWARD. 397 

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'U 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 
be 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 I'd lay my life down rather nor 
grieve Him." 

There was a marked change in poor Paddy 
after this time. Although lie kept his merry old 



398 GEMS OF THE BOG. 

heart, and still " consorted with boys in place o' 
men "; his calm and modest d^eanor, and his 
zeal in every work of mercy gave great joy to 
those who had spent eo jauch labor on him. 

At the end of three years, the Sheehans 
were joined in their new 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 on 
still farther by the genial influences which now 
surrounded him in the church to which he had 
been at once introduced. 

Timmy had grown into a strong and noble 
m«n, proud of his trade and of his skill at it. 
He rejoiced that " 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. He had now become a real helper to his 
friends in every good work. Timmy had not, 
however, overcome " his old wakeness " which 
he had inherited from some far-off ancestor. 
When the Elder saw that he devoted 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 son'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 
Timmy and Bessie may ere long set up another 
new home in the New World. 

And here we take leave of these " Gems of 
tlie Bog," asking, for their sakes, the sympathy 
of the reader, in that class for whom especially 
they labored and prayed. 



THE END. 



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