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J.1NK D.> CJ1.LPLIN. vm^ '^> L\. sllSiC".-- 9S. p. lA PUBLlXSHRn BV THE XMEUirvN tRACT SOCIETY, IM TUEMyAT bmvxT, nosxoN. ^ GEMS OP THE BOG; A TALE OF THE IRISH PEASANTRY. MRS. JANE D. CHAPLIN. !■ L ?l3 .C37 Entered according to Act of Congross, in the year 1869, by JANE DUNBAU ClIAl'LIN. In the Clerk's Offlco of t!.e District Court of tho District of AlasHackusetts. The principal characters and Bcenes in the foUowing pages ore dniwn, very nearly, from real life. The Btory was first published as a serial in the "Watchman and Beflector." J. D. C. ^ ^. year 1869, by N. the District of the following life. The story Watchman and 4 coyTEyrn. XXV. A CoxflBf RATED Live XXVI. Visit from Friesd am) Foe S13 XXVII. Goiso TO Ameuica, 223 XWIII. A l-AlSKfl. I'AUTISO . . 329 XXIX. Stoles nv the Foe 339 XXX. I'ATIEST IX TBIBULATIOX, XXXI. New IIcmeb is tue New World, . . • • 3»3 8G3 XXXII. Padpy'8 Wisdom XXXIII. A Joyful Meetiso, 381 XXXIV. The Old Fob aqain, 888 XXXV. rBOMOTlOIC AMD BEWABD, ••" iili^i^rfarMi^MtfMift^'MiwMiwhii GEMS OF THE BOG. CHAPTER I. THE PIBST FAMILIES OP KILLYROOKE. THE picturesque little liamlet of Killyrooko consisted of one long row of straw-thatched cottages, each having its garden patch stocked with potatoes and cabbages, and graced by a pig-pen. In most of the dwellings a hole in the wall sufficed for a window, while the floor was only the hard-beaten earth. Art had never entered Killyrooko ; but nature, so lavish of her bounties to all beautiful Ireland, had not forgotten this remote and quiet nook. The green lawns, the fields of flax and barley, the high old hedges, the bluest r id brightest of waters, (he blackest and richest of bogs had ■HP e 0^3/5 OF THE BOO. charms unutterable for the hearts of hor simple children. A.s the Switzer inoiuna for his mountains, and the Icelander for his snows, 60 they, when exiled, mourn for their native bogs. Tlic society of Killyrooko, huml)lo as it was, boasted of its distinctions as much as did that of neighboring towns. The fanner — so called — sat upon the pinnacle of the little social fabric. Ho leased a bit of land, and owned a donkey, two or three cows, and pigs whoso name was legion. The next grade wore the laborers, many of them meriting that name only in harvest, lining as they did in idleness and want most of the year ; while the lowliest of all were the professional beggars, who lived on Uio bounty of the gentry and larger farmers in the surrounding region, and who made their lieadquarters in Killyrooke, finding shelter in dilapidated huts and cow-houses, or with the tender-hearted peasants. At one end of tho long street lay in quiet beauty tho little " Lough," a heritage of mercy to tho people. Beside its bright* waters tho JUtJtm, ♦ ■- THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 7 her simple IS for Ilia his snows, leir native as it was, as did tliat — so called ittle social d owned a pigs whoso ifc were the that name in idleness the lowliest i, who lived sier farmers made their ; shelter in or with the lay in quiet ige of mercy b» waters the ruddy daughters of the hamlet met once a week to wash their garments and to gossip over alfaii-s of common interest. All day these nymplis stood knee deep in the water, splashing it about, eitlicr in work or play, while their plaintive Irisli airs, chanted in time with their riibbiiig, and their merry wild laughter, woke the echoes from the neighboring hills. The washing done, they spread their clothes on the briglit turf around the " Lougl<," and then sat down to wait for sunset, which always brought brothers, friends and lovers, as well as the older people, who came from curiosity to see and hear all that interested the girls and boys. - What " Change " is to the city merchant, what the tavern and the store are to the remote villager, what the " sewing-society " is to ladies among us, the Lough was, at the time of which we write, to the dwellers iu Killyrooke. Hero the old men bargained for lonkeys and discussed the probable price, of potatoes; here the young "boys" planned long tramps to fairs and horse-races, and ex- • QEMS OF THE BOO. - !' changed soft words with the ruddj-cheekod girls resting on the green banks. And in the background the mothers whispered their secrets of juy or woe in each other's ears, and the grandmothers — always the nursery-maids amoi/g the the lowly Irish — swung themselves to and fro, wailing the babies to slumber, and varying their motion and their music )jy an occasional blow or epithet aimed at the older urchins, who thwarted their efforts by tickling the toes of tlie drowsy infants. We have said there was an aristocracy in this humble Killyrooke. It comprised the rival houses of Shcehra and O'Gorman, and arose mainly from tlie iact tliat their ancestors had more land and better cottages tlian their neighbors, and tliat their dwellings alone had each a glass window to admit the light and to exclude the rain. But alas for human great- ness ! There must bo always some drawback to its perfect enjoyment. Tliese families had for generations been bitter rivals as well as equals, and the distii\ction enjoyed by both wM i \t m ) t a^m f-- mm Jj-clicekod . And in )erod their s ears, and rsei-y-maids tliomsclvcs uinbei, and usic by an ; the older by tickling stocraoy in prised the rman, and • ancestors tlian their alone had ;ht and to nan groat- drawback milies had as well as i by both THE FinST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. » cbove tlioir neighbors could not atone for the heart-burnings and envy on the one hand, and the wounded feelings on tlic other. But at the time when our story begins, the equality was broken, and the rivalry was waning. Slotli had taken captive the represen- tative of tho O'Gornians ; while that " whicli biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder " had bound in its not less ruinous coil tho wife, Biddy. Tims nine young scions of tho house were left without care or restraint, save the brawlings exchanged between them- selves, and the beatings bestowed on the younger eight by the first-born of the family, Nan, a briglit girl of seventeen. Nan O'Gorman was very fair, having in some way monopolized all tho beauty in tho family. Once in a while tho dying energy of lior race would suddenly flash up in lior breast, and for days she would scrub and sweep the cottage, wabh the children's faces, switcli tho pigs from tlio door-way, and begin to spin yarn for the winter's stockings. Then the embers would die out, and Nan was off to a race on 10 OEMS OF THE BOO. a slionr, roturniiigiii such company and at buch a time as pk-ascd liersclf. Moan\vliil« ilio little ones got a meal, or a crust, or went siipperless to bed, accordii 2 to the quantity of whiskey their mother had been able to procure. Is it any wonder, then, that the clay chimney had fallen, and that the envied glass window had been boarded up for want of panes ? While the O'Gormans wore thus falling to decay, the Shcehans, who lived across the way, still prospered in woildly things, and kept up their honor and their name. Prudence and in- dustry, long the guardians of Uieir humble dwelling, still spread their wings above it ; plenty blessed the cottage and tlie laud, and none in want wore ever scut empty from the door. . There was not, and never had boen,oi.v. point ou which these two families could meet in sym- pathy. " We are no farther apart now," said John Sheehan, the farmer of Daisy Farm, " than we iver war. The O'Gormans hrvo been Papists since the time when there war darkness on the face o' the deep, as mentioned in Scrip- /* THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE 11 md at such lij ilio littlo siipporlesa of whiskey euro. Is it limticy had (riudow had I falling to iss the way, id kept up nice and in- cir humble i abovo it ; 3 laud, and y from the n,ohv point loet in sym- now," said 'aisy Farm, 8 hrvo been ar darkness ed iu Scrip- tur ', and the Shcehans have been Protestants since the day in which God said, ' Let there bo h-ht.' " But neither of these men, we are sorry to say, was a consistent defender of his own faith ; for while Pat O'Gorraan would roll up his sleeves and fight in defence of the " mother church " and all her mummeries, he lived in utter disregard of the decalogue she command- ed him to obey. And John Sheehan, with the Assembly's Catechism on his tongue, and a liatred of all Popery in his heart, was only a self-righteous Pliarisee, walking in the ligl»t of the fire his own hands had kindled. He gloried in his "la ning," in his Protestantism, in his Scotch descent, iu the piety of his par- ents, in the respect paid him in the little Pres- byterian church of the next town, and in every thing he had and did. Ho lacked humility, and was in great danger of striking a rock, as he sailed on with his eyes shut to the dangers aroiuid him. Ho was blind while boasting of his clear sight ; dead in siu while ho fancied himself a living and active member, to whom A iH OEMS OF THE BOO. the " body of Christ " was under great obliga- tion. " It's a fine thing to bo a Ciiristian," he said, " but a finer tiling to be a rispcctiblo Christian." But, for all this sclf-dcccption, John Sheehan led a very different life from hi.s neighbor. Tiio dorniouse-lilte existence of O'Gorman wo have mentioned already. John Sheehan, like Iiis ancestors, was noted for his mercy to the poor and liis strict nttenlion to his own busi- ness. It was his proudest boast — and John was a proud man — that his ancestors wore all of his own way of tliinking, and that the grcat- great-rrandfathcr back of tiieni all, Hugh Mc- Millan, was a Scotch Covenantor; and that wliilo a drop of tliat holy biood was left in his veins he would liato sin and cleave to temper- ance and virtue; and that no beggar or outcast should bo sent hungry from his door ; he would feed and shelter Protestants for their own Bakes, and Catholics for the love of God, who made and bears with them. Daisy Farm was well-tilled, and divided by wide ditches an. hedges of long growth, and >")it Md «i i i)' .,t i iiB - i iii ji i i Mi^ i w i t i»tt«i l f t r. . ^■i THE FinST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 13 ir great obliga- Cliristiaii," he 1 a rispcctiblo John Sheehan neighbor. Tlio i-inan we have chan, like liis •cy to the poor [lis own busi- st — and John cstors wore all tliat the grcat- \\\, Hugh Mc- ;or ; and that vas left in his ave to tcmpcr- ;gar or outcast loor ; he would for tlieir own I of God, who nd divided hj ij, growth, and John's htti'vcsta were always the richest in the rcjrion. His cattle were well fed and housed, and treated almost like members of his family. Not t-cldom did ho address a restless cow in soft tones, saying, " Gently, dear, gently." He was tlic soul of good nature, so that the O'Gor- tiiaiis had found it much harder keeping up ciuuity with him, than with his stern, resolute old father before him. It was very hard to hate the man who called their dirty children " dearies," and who fed them with ginger- bread. As John kept up the reputation of the farm, so did his wife that of tlie dairy and poultry- yard. Hia aged mother was still regarded as head of the family, and treated with a defer' cnco amounting to veneration. Her husband, wliilo he lived, had always called her " Honey," so her dairy-maid and the farm-servant fell in- to the way of calling her " Misthress Honey," and to John she had always been " Mammy Honey." And when John lirought a young mistress to the cottage, the good woman found herself called " Mammy Honey," by way of 14 GEMS OF THE BOO. If distiiicHon from the new Mistress Shoelian, by all Killyrooke. Never was a sweet name more justly applied. Her gentleness, love of peace and true generosity had long made her a won- der — almost an object of awe — among lier neiglibors. To her was due the peace which had cheered the last hours of the old rivals — her husband and the father of Pat O' Gorman, — and her soft word had often turned away from John and his wife the wrath of the present occupants of the ruined cot. Mammy Honey was not merely a good-tem- pered woman ; she possessed a strong mind and a noble heart. The stern blood of the old McMillans flowed through her veins, and the faith whicli had enabled them to sing psalms of triumph in the face of tbeir foes still burned in her heart and lighted up her eyes. Had she lived in the days of the Covenanters, rather than have yielded her conscience to a tyrannical king she would have added her blood to that wliteh then moistened the Scottish moors. For fifty years, since she came a bride to ^^mS&mDKmmKum timtt- s Shoehan, by 3ot namo more lovo of peace ido her a won- — among lier 3 peace whicli ) old rivals — at O' Gorman, L turned away of the present [y a good-tem- strong mind ood of the old reins, and the to sing psalms les still burned 3r eyes. Had Covenanters, onscience to a .VQ added her ed the Scottish me a bride to THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLTROOKE. 15 Killyrooke, Mammy Honey had walked blame- less among her neighbors, yielding her inter- ests, her feelings, every thing but her con- science, for peace's sake. While no bitter words ever escaped her lips against the pre- vailing religion, she set her face with Puritanic firmuess against all which she believed to be heresy, so tiiat while serving and watchiiig, as had always been her wont, by ti»e sick-bed of her neighbors, she had never suffered her eyes to look upon, nor her ears to hear, the forms * and mummeries which she regarded as the idolatry forbidden in the Word of Truth. While the thriftless women about her en- vied her neat cottage, her fruitful garden, and her whole glass window, they loved her, and, aside from the rival O'Gormans, there was scarcely one in the hamlet who would have listened silently while her name was lightly spoken ; a few were even sensitive, for her sake, when the church of her love was reviled. When, arrayed in her brown Sunday gown, ond cloak of duffle gray, with her broad frilled cap bound to her head by a black ribbou, and 4mM> g^ 16 OEMS OF nil': Doa. ^ ■■■4 loaning on John's strong arm, Mammy Honey walked erect and firm to the little Presbyte- rian cliurch at Cloynmally, she looked like a duchess in disguise ratlier than like the hum- ble peasant slio was. ' One Sunday morning as she set off thus, her farm-servant, Paddy Mannon — of whom more anon — exclaimed to a trail of companions who passed on their way to mass, while ho, easy soul, sf|t astride the stile gazing at them, "Look at her, b'ys, this gold morning! Heaven smile on her beauty! Sure, thin, she was made for a throne, but sint in mis- take to a farm ; and will ye dare to say that because she turns her back on the church, and * his riverenco,' and the saints, and the picturs, and the beads, that she'll not enter heaven ? 'Dade I'll fight the first one as dares say it ; and ril bet my new brogues with any of ye that tliere's not as fine-looking a woman in heaven now as herself is — tlie bet to be paid when we gits there and proves it." And Paddy jvinked at his comrades, to impress them with his shrewdness, while they laughed and called 'm/iMKirtuK:m»mi»«a0inmiaeta>m^ THE FIRST FAMILIES OF KILLYROOKE. 17 laininy Iloiioy ttlo Prcsl»yto- loukcd like a like tho hum- it off thus, lier jfwlioiu more ' companions ass, while he, zing at them, >ld morning ! ! Sure, thin, tt sint in mis- ire to say that le church, and nd the picturs, 3ntcr heaven ? dares say it ; rith auy of ye ; a woman in bet to be paid ." And Paddy ress them with iied and called back, " How comes it, Paddy, that ye 'bides in tlio true churdi ycrpelf, while ye believe that Protestants will entar heaven as well as our- selves ? " " How is it, indade ? " replied Paddy. " It's because I was boru in it, and can't throw it off like ray coat, and I wouldn't if I could, be so mane. I'm not plazed wif' the freckles on my face, but do ye think I'm going to skin myself to get clear o' them ? I don't like these dull little eyes o' my own, but do ye tliink I'll pull them out o' my head for that same ? Indade, no ! I stands on my honor, I docs, in this matter o' religion ; and though' tliouiKclves has fed, and clothed, a' J rared me from a starved workhouse-child, I'll not throw up my religion to plazo them. I'm great on conscience, and I'm not the h'y to sell my principles for a home, my birthright for a bowl ()' porridge, as one meau-sperited lad in tho Scriptur' did ; not I." Paddy was a man made up of contradictions, lie was faithful to tlie Sheehans but he was so (jareless of the poor wages he earned that wi0m\ «RPB rs OEMS OF TIIK BOa. 1 lio cither gave or tlwcw thcLi away as soon as he got tlieiu. lie Iiad a x^ifo and child, and would go almost wild with joy when they came to see him, hut if months elapsed without a visit, he never sought them out, nor felt any anxiety for their welfare. He made all man- ner of sport of " his riveronce and the church," but almost fell on his knees at sight of the priest, and shook with fear when rebuked by him for unfaithfulness. He was as light- hearted as the colt he was rearing, and felt no more care for the future. It was joy enough for him to live, and " sarve Misthress Honey." (^- — Al ?-^i. ■■^'k ay ns soon as nd child, and len they came ;cd without a , nor felt ony lade all man- [ the church," sight of the 1 rebuked by vm as light- g, and felt no IS joy enough ress Honey." CHAPTER n. A NEW MISTRESS. JOHN Sheohan had lived many years after his father's death with no companion but his mother and Faddy Mannon. Being of a very social nature, he sometimes complained that tiic cottage was " a dale too silent and lone " for him; and yet he had reached thirty without a tliought of marrying. When one suggested tiiat he needed a wife, he would ask, with filial jealousy, " Do ye see any thing goin' wrong about the cottage or farm, that a wife could mend ? And where would I ever find a woman tliat would bide bein' subject to Mammy Honey ? And that every body about mo shall be, while Heaven spares her — the darling." He had scarcely uttered these words to a neighbor who was bantering him one day, when ho drove off to sell five " lovely young pigs " .^^r- .r.'':i'^rm jig ^i- 'gy — • " 80 QEMS OF TEE BOO. I to Farmer Doane, a prosperous man in the next county. Arrived there, lie received a welco*ne botli as nicrcliaiit and as guest, and after pocketing his silver, took his place at the long deal table, on which smoked the sweet bacon, potatoes ai)d cabbage raised on tiio farm. Here his eye fell on Peggy O'Canty, a young orphan who assisted the good wife in the dairy, and whom the worthy couple alveays addressed as " Peggy, jewel." Ho stole one sly glance at her as she poured out the buttermilk at table, and another when he left the kitchen to ac- company Doaiie to the cow-houso ; and then he mustered courage to ask her name and history. In a marvellously short time John had pigs to sell again, to the great amazement of Mam- my Honey, who looked upon it very much like selling her relations ; and in this second visit to Doane's ho fairly lost his heart, and came home laying plans to brighten up the cottage, and buy a new donkey-cart and a suit of " younger-lookin' clothes." When he got t*addy Mannou off to his bed *^ owdMMKMiMltWOxMtMllnt., A NEW MISTRESS. %l an in ilie next ired a wclcoTie ist, and after CO at the long 3 sweet bacon, 10 farm. Hero young orphan the dairy, and addressed as sly glance at milk at table, itchen to ac- so ; and then or naino and John had pigs ment of Main- ery much like 8 second visit art, and came 3 the cottage, ud a suit of )ff to his bed in the loft that night, John opened his mind to his mother, dwelling on Peggy's charms of face, and manner, and heart, as if he had known her for years, while the truth was ho had never yet spoken to her! "And now, Mammy Honey," he said, "here's the way open for mo to have company, and for yo to have liclp in the cottage and the dairy ; what would you say to my bringing her here ? " " I'd think well o' it, John," replied the old woman, " if I knew she war a humble, God- fearing child, for it's such a one yo need, and not a flighty thing that would be running ofif to fairs and races and leading ye farther off from God — which same is unneodful. Ye must ride over to Doane's some day and ask him is tho girl a Protestant and a Christian, and does she mind her duty humbly, as if sho felt tho Masther's eye on her. And more, John, dear, ask is sho tinder and loving ; for I could niver give ye up without getting back love as my payment ; for yc aro all I have loft in tho world, now! O, lad, it's a great thing for a mother to give her only son to another woman, and a * 22 GEMS OF THE BOG. one she niver saw ! But as I have not been a selfisli inotiior, no more will I be now ! May ton thousand blessings rest on ye both, darling, and may I live to see yo Imppy together." John soon " got leave of his mother" — ho was a man of six feet two, weighing two hundred pounds ! — "to ask a lino of character from the minister of Oloynmally to Peggy's master, bogging his leave to marry her." Hitherto Peggy had never heard of his inten- tions, and was quite amazed when her master explained matters to her in presence of the suitor. After John had left the house, she expressed great surprise to her mistress why such a fine, settled body should bo looking after a poor, foolish, shy tiling like herself. But the acquaintance grow and ripened as well as it would have done environed by the strictest rules of etiquette. When at last the matter was settled, Peggy could hardly toll which she loved most, John or his mother. She was quite as proud of Mammy Honey — who had visited ht>r with an offering of ten hanks of flax yarn, ten ells of lineu aud six pairs of . ^iViiiai:: w^^a:Lv;&i:sK.j'. . #ar Q not been a > now ! May joth, darling, ;otlier." other" — ho 3ighing two of character to Peggy's aarry her." >f his inten- her master once of tlio house, she listrcss why ooking after ir. But the I well as it he strictest the matter .1 which she . She was — who had 1 hanks of ix pairs of A NEW MJSTRE88. 28 stockings — as of her son, "the fine settled masther." When the marriage ceremony was over, John brought Pcfegy homo in the new donkey- cart, — tlie only equipage his establishment boasted. Manuny tloncy stood in the cottago door arrayed in her besi cap and gown, to receive them, while Paddy Mannon, in his Sunday corduroys and brogues, took the donkey's bridle, and stood waiting to witness Peggy's reception. j ' F«lding the young orphan to her breast, Mannny Honey cried out, with the eloquence of her people, " Blissed bo the God and Father of the orphan, that has this day given ye a mother, Peggy O'Canty ! Blissed be the God and husband of the widow, that has this day given me a daughter, who never had a one before ! It is this old heart, jewel, lAiat will hide ye where trouble can never find ye ; and it's on yer loviu' breast, mavourneen, that I'll loan and forget there's such things as old age and wakeness in the world." Then throwing her arms around the stalwart i i?i;i mi Hi 11 GEMS OF TBFI BOO. form of John, she cried out, " Ye, darlin', are the con o' a righteous man, and have come of a long line o' them that feared God. Tlie promise to the seed o' thd rigliteous has been fulfilled to ye, and see now t'.iat ye 'bide in the fear o' God and seek Him henceforth with tlie whole heart. Look, boy," she continued, " and see what God has given ye to make your home shine like heaven, and to close the dying eyes o' yer ^!d motlier ! God save ye, John, from ever piercing her heart with one sharp word. And now the grace o' God Jjido on ye both and on this house ! " Peggy was a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl, "made of love, entirely," John himself — and who should know better than he ? — being witness in the case. She loved everything, from John and liis mother down to the ducks and th^chr"kens ; whatever had life shared in her love or pity. She now bound up her hair under a snowy cap, saying, " As John are ten years older nor me, he'll be plazed to see me layin' oflF girlish ways and lookin' sober-like." Bhe applied Lersolf to her work with that --0mm^^^ ui r- A NEW MISTRESS. 25 «Yo, darlin', and have come ed God. Tlie :eous has been jre 'bide in the iforth with tlie lie contiiined, ye to make d to close tlie God save yo, iart witli one ) o' God Jjido ir-liaircd girl, himself — and he ? — being 5d everything, 1 to the ducks life shared in d up her hair I John are ten ized to see me i' sober-like." >rk with that gliid spirit wliicli changes toil to a blessing, iiiid «)oii bccaiiio the modol wife of the region. The whitest flax, tlio sweetest butter and the brightest licarth-stoiie were hers. But such was lier liumility that she took none of the credit, but always spoke of " Mammy Honey's silver flax " and " Mammy Honey's golden i)iittcr ; ■ ' and wondered why John ever chose her for his wife, and how Mammy Honey could l)ear so patiently with her slow ways, and never weary teaching her her own " il- cgant " ones ! . , "^Uny a richer and wiser bride has gone to her husband's home without such a welcome as Poggy received at Daisy Farm; many a mother has given away a son with no such re- turn of love to cheer Jier declining days as that in wiiicli Mammy Honey now rejoiced, and for which she praised God in prayer and song, and tliank-offorings to every beggar she could find. And the thatch, which she declared was "just full o' the prayers of centuries," sheltered a happier family than did the lofty dome and wainscoted walls of Harploy Hall, — the seat of I i9 .«5 'I'll m OEMS OF THE BOG. the gentleman who owned and neglected Killy- rooke, and the region between it and his fine mansion. Years wore on at Daisy Farm. The family had their sorrows, but tiiey were hardly worth the name. John had lost a donkey one year and a cow the next, and Mammy Honey was afflicted by "gapes" among her feathered family, beside having a pet lamb mangled and torn by the ferocious dog of the 0' Gorman boys. But Peggy's trials were the sorest, while she had the least strength to endure them. Her careless neighbor across the way was constantly accusing the innocent creature of trying to outsiiine her in the neatness of her person and in the order of her household, — a t''iug easily done by any one. The neglected little ones, catcfiing the spirit of their mother, felt at liberty to annoy her also. The big boj ii stoned her ducks, stole her Christmas turkeys, and turned their half-famished pigs into her cherished cabbage garden. But, according to her first resolution, she returned good for evil, and, with the sympathy of Mammy Honey, A NEW MISTRESS. W' I 3glected Killy- t and his fine I. The family hardly worth ikoy Olio year ly Honey was her feathered mangled and lie 0' Gorman e the sorest, th to endure jross the way >cent creature eatness of her ousehold, — a riio neglected their mother, The big boj a tmas turkeys, pigs into her , according to good for evil, mmy Honey, bore their insults with meekness and patience. Once, sorely annoyed, she shed tears, when I that old piiilosopher said, in soothing tones, "It's yer ould mammy that knows, mavour- necn, how hard all this is to the flesh, for she's gone through it for nigh half a cent'ry with the O'Gormans in the grave and them alive ; and I can say this for my promise-keepin' God, that so has He helped me through all these years that I never gave them back au angry word, or laid up one ha' pcth o' re- viiige agin them, but always pitied them. And so I did, dear, till the pity turned to love, and in tlie end brought back love again. For wlicn the ould mother o' this man come down to death, it was I alone must smooth her pil- j low and mix her drink, and I — Protestant tliougli I was — must close her eyes in death. I She remembered how patient I had borne with ! her, and this was all the way she had o' asking I my forgiveness. And if she had not it would ha' been all the same, for God never forgets, jewel! Patience with them will bring heaps I of heaven's gold into yer own heart, and ye'U '9 t 28 OEMS OF THE BOO. • find tliat even them is helpin' ye on in the road to glory, by-aiid-by." And under such wise instructions Peggy took up the cross which the old saint was about laying down, and moved meekly on. Now the cruel neighbor had one cause of boasting of wliich poor Peggy was very sensi- tive. She had, in her own words, " nine as bulky childer as ye could find ony day at Blarney Fair." Peggy had none, and John was fond of children even to a weakness. But the pure-hearted creature was resolved to turn even this bitter cup to one of sweetness, by her submission to God's will, and her tenderness towards all little children. So, when he:' ca.o- less neighbor was away from home, she would call in two or three of the youngest of the flock, and after treating them to clean faces, would feed them with her sweet bread and milk, and keep them till John's return from the field, knowing how fond he was of chil- dren's prattle. Once when " the masthor " expressed pleas- ure at their frolicsome ways, she said, "I'll SSSnummmmim JO. ou ill the road tructions Peggy 1 old saint was meekly on. i one cause of was very sensi- rords, "nine as ind ony day at none, and John weakness. But resolved to turn iveetness, by her her tenderness , when he:' cato- lomo, she would jroungest of the to clean faces, nreet bread and ii's return from he was of chil- A y^EW MISTRESS. 29 bring them over ony day, dear, to play with yp, iHit neither yer mother nor myself Is plazed to have ye cross the street after them, nor yet to chat with their father as ye have o' late ; " f.)r she liad noticed that for the last few weeks O'Gorman had frequently called to him to cou»e over and hear a letter from Jim, in " Amciiky," or to smoke a pipe with him. Tiiis was an unwonted civility which John had not power to refuse — indeed, he had not power to refuse anything to anybody, lie had been held in by his stern father and his resolute mother from going among evil con)panions, but he had never yet learned to say "no" in his own name. And no man, however old he may be, is safe till he can do that. 1 expressed pleas- she said, " I'll /-^ t CHAPTER III. MAMMY HONET. AD ARK day comos sooner or later to every dwelling. If no other shadow falls across its sunshine, death's surely will, and sad in- deed is the home over which his wing broods. Mammy Honey was now ncaring the end of her fourscore years. Her labors had been one by one relinquished; her dairy was no longer inspected daily, the music of her flax- wheel had ceased, and lastly, the bright knit- ting-needles had been passed through the gray ball and laid away forever. But still her heart was fresh and warm, and ther^^fore she had not outlived her usefulness ; there were yet some little acts of love which she could per- form for her children. But one night — a night never to bo forgot- ten at Daisy Farm — she was prostrated by a M •as MAMMY nONET. 81 or later to every ;dow falls across ill, and sad iii- 3 wing broods, jaring the end abors bad been ' dairy was no sic of lier flax- ;be brigbt knit- irougli tlie gray t still ber bcart rv^fore sbe bad tbero were yet sbo could per- Br to bo forgot- prostrated by a siuliieii palsy, and became tbenceforth like a Jiolpk'ss cbild in tbc care of Peggy. " It's a life's load ye'a got now," cried out licr iiurd-hearted neigbbor to Peggy, tbc morn- ing aftor tliis calamity. " Tiio Slicebans will get good pay out of ye now, for all tbe fine liv- ing yo've bad tiiere tbcso last years! Ocb, but she'll bo a burden ! " " 0, no, don't say tbat, neigbbor," replied Peggy. "It's such a burden as I pray God to lot me carry to tbo end o' ray days. If He'll only spare ber to me, I'll bo tbo tbank- fulest cbild Ho bas in all tbc wide world, and never weary o' ber day or nigbt — tbe darlin'." " Ye know well tbat this is a widow's curse that has fallen on tbe ould body, o' course ? " j asked Biddy O'Gorman. " A curse fallen on ber blissed bead ? It I can never be ! " replied Peggy, turning pale. "Yis that same," repeated Mrs. Biddy. ["It was this way: When Jobn and my bus- I band were b'ys, there cam' along ould Bet Mig- honl teilin' fortun's, and as yer kitchen was the iiugest in Killyrooko, sbe asked might tiio 4. 30 8S GEMS OF THE BOG. crowds como to lier there. And Maminy Slicohaii said, ' No deeds o' darkness shall ho done benath the roof through which prayer lias risen night and morn for more nor a cen- tury.' Tiicn Bet was sore angered, and stand- ing in the road just fornint the door, she pulled off her cap and let her gray locks fly to tlio winds, while she prayed that Mammy Sheclian might, afore she died, lose the power to ask a drink o' water, and that no child might ever after be horn in that cottage again — and so there hav'n't — and worse nor all, that her heart might be broken by the child she had that time, — that's John." " What, not my darlin' John ? " cried Peggy, leaning against the donkey-post for support. " Yis, that same," replied Biddy, . " and then she prayed, too, that the son o' them who did resave her in — that's ray husband — niigiit have as many childor as there war moons in the year, and thim all grow to bo lords and ladies ! " and the cnicl woman held up her rosy infant before Peggy, and then €~ % And Mammy jarkiicss iiliall I which prayer are nor a cen- cd, and stand- tho door, sho ray locks fly to that Mammy led, lose tho , and that no '.n that cottage ; — and worse be broken by lat's John." ohn ? " cried oukoy-post for Biddy, . " and son o' them nay husband — as there war ill grow to be cl woman held rjrv, and theu MAMMY HONEY. 8t prcMSud it to her breast, casting, as she did so, a look of trinmpli at tlie terrified listener. " Tlic curse about no more childer in the cuttugo has come true, then ; and now the palsy will forbid the ould body to ask water, and the other one about John, — well, well, there's no tcUin' what a man will come to, till he's safe in his grave ! " added she. "0, Biddy, ye scare the life out o' me," cried Peggy, and then she rushed, pale and breathless, towards the cottage. The rasping tones of Biddy's voice had pierced tho little room where Mammy Honey lay in her weak- ness, and she cried, as Peggy entered, " Come hero, flower o' my heart ! Surely, yor fear o' a sinful woman is not greater nor your trust in God ! His blissing rested on this cottage long years after I smoothed tho dying pillow o' poor Bet in the workhouse, and will yet rest here if ye 'bide in His love. The lack o' cliilder is sometimes the lack o' sorrow, and God knows best where to sind them. Theu, the last evil word she spoke — about my John — 0, Peggy, if he goes asthray when I'm no ,.« H OEMS OF THE BOG. longer here to hould him in, it'll bo because o' the evil in his heart, and not for her curse; for she knew no more o' the futur' nor ye do. He's powerful o' body, but he's wake o' will, Peggy, and he's fearful forgetful o' his Maker. Watch him, and pray for him, dear, when I'm at rest. I've, laid down that burden now, and though his feet may slide sometimes, I know ho will be brought in at tho last." Harvest was drawing on, and John Shcehau had his reapers all engaged ; and an uncouth and famished-looking set they wore, gathered from the road where they were begging for work, as starving men beg for broad. John was full of business, and of joy, too ; for the harvest was very heavy and tho >ycath- er fine. " Pcggj', dear," he said, " one pair o' hands can never fade this host o' men, and tind on the dairy, and wait on tho Mammy Honey. Now, dear, let us call in a nurse to mind her, or ye'll destroy yerself before this hard season is over." Mamuiy Honey heard this from her little inner room. Her will was as strong as ever, and so ■II r I ■liiiira^ltiiiilMII7eath- J, " one pair o' t o' men, and ti the Mammy in a nurse to self before this 1 her little inner as ever, and so MAJLVr HONEY. U was his obedience to it. " No, John," s'.ie cried, " ye can niver tako away the child God sont me in my old ago, to fade your men. Yc can call in somebody to do your rough work, and pay lier for it ; but I can not buy siicli love and tiuderncas as Peggy's with gold ; and the life would just go out o' mo if I lost the sight o' her dear eyes. 'Bide by your poor failin' mother, Feggy, dear," she cried imploringly. " So I will, darlin'," replied the gentle Peg- gy, " though the rapors should starve for it. Better the mildew fall on the grain than ye bo neglected that has been every other body's sarvaut in sickness. And more nor that, it's a small while only that I'll have ye, and I grudges every hour that Pm losin' o' yer com- puiiy. It's not an hour agono since yon bright Niu\ O'Gorman sprang over the stile, begging would I suffer har to come in and hilp rao tlirough till harvest. She says it's a sorry lifo she lades at homo, betwano the abuse o' her mother and the throublo o' the childor. She's a fair, pTeasant-voiced cretur, and it's a I r^ 86 OEMS OF THE BOO. pity no ono takes lior by tlio hand to save her. I'd a mind to ax ye might I bid her in to the kitchen for ton days ; but then the thought o' her mother, and the fearful scavin' she gave me about yon beggar's curse come over me, and I hadn't power to be spakin' their name." " No, no, my jewel, that will never do ! " re- plied Mammy Honey. " There's evil blood ill the veins o' the whole race. Tiiey tri- umphed over mo when tlie hand o' tlio Lord touched me. The sua could not shine on the harvest if the reapers as gathered it war fed by an O'Gorman, nor " Hero Mammy Honey stopped suddenly, and throwing up her hands as if "tartlird by I. or own words, cried, •• Alas, alas, chil<.ler ! what am I saying ? 1b thi? the spirit o' Him that spint His last breath prayin' for his inomios ? Is this all the mootness I have for liio homo I'm roachirs' after, and whoso (ioors is just opening to let me in ? Ts thero more hatred and rcvinge jumy heart, now that I stand on ^J.c brink o' Jor>]aa and soo the promi;ied l\ , iSm when I was far hvd„o.,aUgn.ml.W--d oIs«dtl,a.ho..a,od"mtUmo^uudm»- Latrod ovory O'Oorraan, doad.l.v,..' or ,ot ::J < patroLingV ad„.Utod «,at aUo wa, I , a t vicious of ti>o na,no. After aw d , 1 „mn«od bv her wild, ^m^\^i\f Jolm socmcd amusca uy n ,vays aud even Mammy Honoy asked for Uttlo It 'tions at her hand, and addressed her ^;:;;y,as,"Nanny,mycUUd;;a^^^^^^^ ified by Peggy's forbearance with her. m. liiliitiiiirr^' $ U' standard od her by iin. 08 for the a, and she abling and nnon, who t unclirist- ivin' or yet at she was I'tcr awhile, d, sprightly cd for little Irossod her id was grat- ler. CHAPTER IV. PADDY MANNON. THE harvest was gathered in, or " stacked,** and immense heaps of peat in the yard pro- mised light and warmth for the coming winter. The heavy work of the farm being over, Paddy Mannon was at \Umty to attend " fairs " and races, and to multo his annual visit to his wife, " a most ondnstrious young woman, who provided for herself and cliild intirely by begging, and never bothered him at all no more nor if he war a young b'y without ft wife." ' Meg Mannon's home was a dilapidated hut on the roadside, many miles from Killyrooke. She had a field of operation too productive to leave even for a husband. Mammy Honey had otforod her work when she was first married, but sUe declined it, saying, " I was brought up 40 OEMS OF THE BOO. a beggar, misthress, and I understand my oon business better tban another one's. ♦ Let tbo Bbocmaker stick to bis last.' I'll j"8t bide where I am, and visit Paddy at whiles o' leisure." . • ; - •, •Meg's home- was not as good as a thrifty far- mcr'8°cow-house. A woolen coverlet, the gift of Mammy Honey, supplied the missing door. A barrel, sawn asunder, served for chairs, and a whole one, with a rough board across it, for a table. A sack, filled with straw and covered with plenty of warm blankets, composed a bed seldom visited by care for the morrow. The walls, t)irough which the light peeped, were ornamented by pictures ; one of the Virgin and Holy Child, another representing the benevo- lent St. Patrick banishing serpents from Ireland, and a third, portraying a fat monk, bareheaded and barefooted, beating, most un- mercifully, some half-dozen sinners, whof race and sex must remain forever a mystery. - Meg Mannou was a fine specimen of a prosperous 1 rish beggar, and was, on the whole, a proud and happy woman, having nothing iia jite'Tii / ^'' ■'•■'"■■* —-«>.. f-. PADDY MANNON. m and no pipe id with such cd no more ,11 if she had paid her fees she had any icd her sins mrial. After responsibility lone in this; »me curse all da them, that aso of a purer bandages can s." But few, id to tr what lie mass of the are at ease in ere struggling it for the light irabition unful- ;a, where they ss and lived in fine stone houses. They wore always planning a fund to pay their passage. Tlie first farthing, however, had never been laid aside for it, although Paddy talked of the " passage-money " as if it were all ready in the bank, waiting to be called for. He enjoyed the dream of future grandeur more than most men do the reality ; and neither toil, poverty, nor yet separation from those he loved, had power to dim the sun- shine in his light heart. He had as little care for the morrow as the birds of the air or the lilies of the field. But this was not the rcsiilt of faith ; for, after all the labor dear Mammy Honey had expended on him from childhood up, Bhe was forced to confess at last that " poor, foolish Paddy lived like the beast o' the field, forgetting that there was a God above him." When this saint-like old woman lay on her bed and felt that her work for souls was nearly done, she called Paddy to her and recounted the mercies of God to him during the long years he had dwelt under her roof, begging him to be wise and repent while it was called to-day, lost he should be cut ofiT in his sins. MtMHi Mial* 44 OEMS OF THE BOG. «* Whist, noo, misthrcss dear," lio replied; »♦ it will do for yc, wlioso time is ycr own, to be rcadin' and prayiu' l.Mf ycr daylight. The likes o' me has to do it all up of a Sunday. When I puts on a clano shiit and shaves me, then I says my prayers as well as the best o' thim Noo, dear, there's scores o' boys about here that tells their beads twice a day, and yet them same will swc ar, and drink, and steal, and lio. And ycisilf knows that poor Paddy, that prays only of a S.uiday, is as sober, and honest, and loving as the daylight abooveus. Noo what better would I bo if I was confissn.g to the priest and muttorin' over the beads half my time ? " « Paddy, Paddy, my poor lad ! it's not con- fessing to man, nor yet counting yer beads that will save yer soul. What will ye do when death comes ? " "Och, dear heart, fAm Pll pray as fast as any o' thitr ! I always dae» whin Pm ia trouble. Don't ye mind the night my ould granny died at the workhouse, how I prayed? I had the beads in my hand all night, and if I *- PADDY ilANNOW. 4fi ho replied; cr own, to be lylight. The }f a Sunday, d shaves me, 18 the best o' o' boys about k day, and yet ik, and steal, t poor Paddy, as sober, and ight abooveus. was confissing the beads half ! it's not con- ' yer beads that ill ye do when pray as fast as >i whin I'm in night my ould I, how I prayed? all night, and if I'd bo to fall asleep for a minute, sure I'd Bprin",' up and go at it agaiu, fear her ghost wouM ooine to mo I " Munuuy Uonoy groaned. " Oli, Paddy, it's iiigii quartcs* a ceut'ry since I took yo in hand, and tliis is all I've accomplished for ye ! Sure I'm aithcr a blind lader o' the blind, or a most unprofitablo sarvant ! " " Och, no, Misthrcss Honey, ye're nather o* them ; the fault o' ray not hcediu' yer religica is on the head o' his rirorence, for he watches mc as the cat watches the mouse, and tells me if I'm a * turn-coat,' that the ghosts o' all my Catholic anchesfcers will como down upon me niid tear me to piepes, and I'll lose my soul then — sure ! " " t'addy, my poor man," replied his mis- tress, "yo are fast in the net o' Satan, and how can I die and leave yo there ? " " Don't tell mo that; I'll be 'feared to go to my bed alono for a month ; for I'm e'en more scared o' yon Satan, nor o' the ghosts th:m- selves ! But keep yo aisy, dear heart, for I've 411 GEMS OF THE bOO. no doubt I'll get into hcave.i some tvay. Kins riverencoischatingmcrilbolotinforyer sake Yc've done good enough to get yer- silf and Ma.lher John, and mesilf all safo through; and as for the young mistiness - there could be no excuse for keeping her out at all, at all; for she's as hooly now as any lu '''such were the low ideas Paddy entertained of heaven and the way of life, after all the efforts which had been made to enlighten las darkness. Nor was his a solitary case; he was surrounded by men and women who lived as they listed, a,.d who trusted for eternal hap- piness to their good works-a poor array L,andinthe.-.orsoftho saints and he Virgin, while they were as ignorant of the plan of salvation as are the far-off heathen "Oh Paddy," said his mistress, "I could lay down my life for' the salvatio.i o' poor blind Killyrooke, includin' John and yers.lf! But that wouldn't save ye. Ye must repent o yer Bias and believe iu the Lord Jesus for yor- PADDY MANNON. 47 ivay. K Ins ot in for yer to get yer- silf all safo inisthiess — sping lior out low as any in y entertained after all the enlighten hia ary case ; he acn who lived )r eternal hap- - a poor array laints and the ant of the plan icathcn. ress, " I could iratiou o' poor, »n and yorsilf. must repent o' i Jesus for yor* selves. I can no more do it for you than the priest, for I'm a poor sinner, like himself and ye." "Well, dear," replied Paddy, a little piqued; " as to bein' such a. fearful sinner — ivory one must spake for hisself — and I'm just sure Fm not quite evil yet. Lookin' at mysilf beside the other boys, I'm a raal da- ccut-bchaved lad, and dosarve as respictablo a funeral as ony o' thim — yis, and respictablor too ! " This last sentence was uttered with some sharpness, as if his funeral arrangements were being then made, and did not meet his approbation. But suddenly remembering that in this one item of c.vpondituro, if in no other, he was independent of his master, he added, with a smart toss of the head, " I desarves a fine wake and a funeral, and I'll get them too ; fur Meg and me has made a promish together, that whichever of the twos dies first shall be buried fine, if it takes the livin' one the rest o' her days to pay for it ! Then ye think, mis- thress, that not a Catholic body will be let in i :j! i 48 GEMS OF THE BOO. to heaven at ail ?" be added, returning to the first subject. , „ •' t he- u No, Paddy, I think no such thuig. I be lavo if ever my eyes see 'the King mH.s beauty,' I sbuU see beside him poor Demm Burke, who bore his sufferings so patient, and blissed God in the furnace, and d.ed w.th the 1.0 0' Jesus on hi. lips. In a dar place Dennis had spied a great light, a u made after U, and walked in it. But the cloud was bo tbick about him he did not see how to g t clear out o' the Romish church on earth. But he's all right now, where the name o a church is o' no avail, but where Jesus has ,aved all who trusted in Him, from the errors and blindness of arth. And more ban ould Dennis is safe in Christ, while hav^n' a name in yor church. There's good Mammy Crogm e ,«« liat fall ; the two o' us had that spun for mo last tail , , , iast a little heaven together a talkin o the ove 0' God, and a wishin new days for poor L-eland. And some o' the hoHest of men Uved aud died in the Catholic church." i... PADDY MANN ON. 49 rning to the tiling. I be- King i» His poor Dennis , patient, and died with the a dark place id made after cloud was so 00 how to got rch on earth, the namo o' a iiore Jesus has 'rom the errors more than ould havin' a name Mammy Crogin, w two o' us had a talkin' o' the «? days for poor lest of mea lived !h." "Och, then, sure Fm safe in it!" cried Paddy, quite relieved to find his mistress had sympathy with any of his faith. " Oil, uo, for ye are not like them ones, Paddy. They saw the errors of Rome, though tlioy saw not the way of deliverance from her, but came themselves into the gospel road, the only one that can lade us to God. Even the pope hasn't power to bar the way from his children, if they seek it with a true heart. But go now to yer work, lad. I can only pray for ye and yer masther, as I have iver done, that ye may bo drawn by an iverlasting love ; for yo will never como o' yerselves ; John is too wise in his own eyes to take a guide, and ye are too ignorant to know yer need o* one ! Heaven help yo both, poor lads ! " . This old saint seemed one born out of place and out of season ; one who, had she been placed with hands unfettered, whore she had helpers, would have done a mighty work among the lowly. She was a Bible saint, hav- ing as her only other books, Pilgrim's Pro- gress, Boston's Fourfold State, and Baxter's tdSH Juii tt m mniik - 50 OEMS OF THE BOO. Sainis' Rest. She had none of tlio appManccs of our day a.id our land, wUerewith to bring the truth before men. No books, no tracts, no prayer-raeetuigs ; but, for all this, she kept tho enemy at bay in her own hamlet, and foiled bis efforts many a time at Cloynmally. *«•■ appMaiiccs h to bring [) tracts, no lio kept tho , and foiled lly. i ,> .■>S,fiU??'J.v., : ,>:.?«*: •■^■'r'r'"'-f' :!r';:i:^f^'' CHAPTER V. - A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. WHEN the autumn winds brought the sere leaves from the branches, the strong staff and tho beautiful rod on which tho honor of tho Sheehans had leaned so long was bro- ken. Tho setting of Mammy Honey's sun was nmrked by a brilliancy and beauty surpassing even that of her pure and glowing overy-day life. Tlje peace of heaven shone through her clear eyes, and her brow, long deeply lined, grew smooth and fair like that of a child, llcr blanched locks fell from beneath the broad frill of her cap in waves of silver, as she sat pillowed in her rudo easy chair before tlio little glass window. Her soul had seemed for days floating on a sea of peace. No fear of death, no desire for life cast a sliadow over SI *-•■ 0t GEMS OF THE BOG. her joy. Her voice, long unstrung, had re- gained its old melody, and she cheered hor heart with hymns and snatches of the Psalins as paraphrased for the Scottish church. Her chil- dren, while they moved about their toil, heard her singing, as she iieared the cold river, — •• The hour of my departure's come, I hear the voice that calls me home 5 And now, Lord, let sorrow cease. And let Thy servant die in peace ! " \i Yet if the Holy One felt the tempter's power in His mortal conflict, is it strange that some of His followers arc forced to cry with Him, «»This is the hour and the power of dark- ness"? Is it not enough that the disciple be as his Master ; that the same thorns pierce his feet ; that the same spear wound his heart ; and that the same vinegar, mingled with gall, bo put to his lips ? Blessed bo fellowship with Jesus, oven though it bo the fellowship of Buffering! Need wo, then, wonder that a transient cloud shadowed the peace of this blessed old saint 1 ill ig, had re- lieercd l»or e Psalins as . Her cliil- ■ toil, heard Id river, — e ; ptor's power that some y with Him, rcr of dark- the disciple horns pierce id his heart ; 3d with gall, ilowship with ellowship of ansient cloud id old saiut ? A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 63 It disturbed her vision of her children's future and her hopes of Ireland, leaving her own prospects still glorious. Wliat true motlier can bo satisfied with heaven for her- self alone ? Mammy Honey was going to her Fatlier's kingdom ; but she wanted Jolin, and Paddy, and all Ireland, and indeed, the whole world, to follow her there. For Peggy she had no fears, as she said, " Heaven would not be complate without her." " Mavourneen," she called to Peggy, on the last day of her life, " come now and let me lane my head on yer lovin' bussum. Call Johjj, too, darlin', for this is tlie wakeness o' failin' natur' ! I'm just now puttin' foot into the cold waters, but I see the horses and the chariots waitin' me beyond ; so I know that I sliall sup ere break o' day with Him I'm sick o' heart to see ! True, the arrow is in my breast ; but like Christiana's token, it is pintod with love. I hears the bells beginnin' to ring in heaven, rejoicin' over another poor sinner come oiT conqueror through grace. But I've a partin' word on the bank of Jordan for ye 1 1 04 GEMS OF THE BOO. twos — my dailins'. I would be to warn yc that the diviVa not dead, but still goes roariu' about ; and if ivcr lie strives to damage yo, it'll bo by putting a space between yer two hearts ! I've no fears o' yo' Peggy, my jewel, for ye have even now the meek and lowly sperit o' the lovin' Master. But Oh, John, John ! ye are all taken up with the grain, and the peat, and the pratecs, and the dedr bastes, and the powltry ! I'm afeared ye'U let the very mercies o' God lade ye astray from Him till ye lose yer soul! Peggy, love, watch him every hour and keep a fast hould on him, and bring him safe to mo at last! Til expect that o' ye, darUrC. And now I'd bo to give my partin' orders. I had a vision, dears, days agone, that drank up my sperit with anguish ; and I must tell it ye afore tho trumpet sounds for me, that I may put yo on yer guard." " No evil can come on this house while the thatch hangs to the rufT, Mammy," sobbed Peggy ; " there's been that many prayers sent to Heaven from it ! " • ». ■ v C A CLOUD OVER DAISY PARM. 55 ;o warn yc )es roariu* I am age yo, !u yer two , my jewel, and lowly ; Oil, John, the grain, id the dedr ed ye'll let astray from 'eggy, love, I fast lionld mo at last! now I'd bo id a vision, p my sporit iu' o' late. many evil to the firo liilder that )Ued John. )r bravrlin', od has sent m He's sent heed ye my I face o' tlie sorely baten Heaven pity tlie child — home when I'm gone, and live ? yersilvcs like two tartlc-doves till I see yo ajfain." For a little time Mammy Honey lay as if done with all below. Tlicn slje cried out. " Oh, that God would pity Ireland, — poor, swate Ireland, bound in ciiains and darkness! The men of God go to the far-off hathen, to the black man and the red man ; but who o' them all pities my people, ground under the heel o' the Man o' Sin ! How can I die and leave them thus ! " Then a smile passed over her pale face, and she whispered, " When the isles of the sea shall be converted unto Thee, the dearest and the greenest o' them all shall not be forgotten! Good night, jewels." And she was not, for God had taken her. > * * ..1,1. When the form of Mammy Honey was borne from the cottage to the little Presbyterian church in Cloynmally, all Killyrooke followed it. Many who had never entered a Protestant church before stole in there ; and such as dared not enter lest they might thereby lose their souls, stood without; wringing their .J <- 58 OEifS OF THE BOO. hands, and howling out lamentations for her who had " left a huge spot impty, and earned the heart o' KiUyrooko to the grave witii her!" When the coffin had been lowered into the grave, the pastor of the little Hock in Cloyn- mally seized this rare opportunity of explaui- ing to the poor people the way of salvation through Cluist alone. Ho spoke of the holy life by which their dead friend had honored her faitli among them, and through which she had now entered into rest. While ho was yet speaking, a simple youth from KiUyrooke, known there by no other name than « the poor fool" and who had a reputation for second sight, mounted the wall, and uttered a succes- sion of the most unearthly howls, till every eye was turned on him. "Oohoul! Oohoul! Oohoul! Bats, and owls and ravens; the air is full o' 'um! Tljis is the evil day for Daisy Farm and the Shechans! I seed a white dove perched on the coffin o' Mammy Honey, and it followed her here ; and it'll bide on her grave whin we's are gone boom ; and then .t U C- 1 for her carried ivc with into tlie u Cloy 11- explain- salvatioii the lioly honored which sho was yet illyrooke, ' the poor or second . a siicces- till every Oolionl ! s; the air for Daisy i a white my Honey, bide on tier id then it'll A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 59 die on the turf above her, and never go back more to hover in peace over tlio cottage ! But owls, and bats and ravens will bide tiiero, and clap their wings and hoot, and croak through the long black night that '11 never be lifted off the place ! " Tlicn he clapped his hands and laughed loud and long, as he looked up to the heavens. " Och, ooh ! " he cried, " but this same is the blessed day for herself that fed the beggars, and knit warm stockiu's for mesilf these nine years agone ! She shuk off her heresy like a varmint with her last britlj, and bid John to tell o't. I sees her now passin' through the fires o' purgatory, the first Sheohan tliat ever got through since heaven war l)uilt. And now, look ! look ! she's let in among the hooly •the only Protestant body in the hape ! " The peojde stood as if turned to stone hj the ravings of the idiot, who was really more knave than fool. But John, whose pride was tonchod by this reflection on his family and his faitli, forgot the decorum incumbent on him as a mourner. He stepped out from among the 60 GEMS OF THE BOO. people, and cried, " Hoot, there, poor crack- brain ' Go Lome and tell l.im that bid ye do this onchristian dado to broken hearts, that not a Sheehan ever lived on arth - mesdf ex- cepted-bnt's in heaven to day! and tell hiin that whiles I'm the rospictable man I am, na- ther owls, bats nor ravens shall get lave to bide above my boom, nor yet will ye ever be fed there again. Away with ye!" Poor Peggy, who could not endure an- cry words, foil fainting with exhaustion and fear. Kind won.cn gathered about her, say- ing "Well may she sink now, poor body. Her bist friend's in the grave. Did ever man's mother get love like this from his wife!" What hour in life so sad as the evcnmg after the funeral of one beloved? John arid Peggy ,ot v^ the deep shadow of tho broad clay chimney-placo, where the peat was sinoking and smouldering, but neithor spoke. She was nursing her grief, he laying plans to punish the poor fool. At length Nan O'Gorman rose from the little casement where she had been Bitting with her chin resting on her chubby ^^^^j,t-*8t' Jf!«i*«*^«^' ■■'^'^ A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 61 or crack" bid yo do aits, that mcsilf ex- i tell liiin I am, iia- 3t lave to '6 ever be nduro an- ustion and t her, say- poor body! ever rnau's ife ! " fcning after and Peggy broad clay as smoking e. She was s to punish Jorman rose ihe had been her chubby hands, gazing at the passers-by. She fell Mpon her knees before the fire, and began blowing the peat to light it. A sudden gleam fell across her face, and Peggy cried out, " Quit blowijig, Nanny, for I cannot bear ony light on my eyes this night, when Mammy Honey is lying in the dark, cold grave. I be- lieve WY own heart lies with her, for I feel the damp and cold o' the grftve all aboot me ; " and she shuddered fearfully. "It's a huge cold ye've taken standin' so long on the fresh-tarned arth, dear," said John. Ho rose and took down a coarse frieze cloak from the peg on which it hung, and was wrapping it about her, when she cried, " O, John, that is her cloak ! How can ye touch it with thoughtless hands!" And burying her face in its folds, she kissed it again and again with floods of tears. « Who'll help me on to heaven now ? " she sobbed. " Don't be breakin' yer heart this way, jewel. Sure you've got me left," said John tenderly. Peggy made no reply, but with a deep groan, she closed her eyes, and laid her pallid cheek ^ OEMS OF THE BOG. against the cold clay chimney, and claBp'u.g hcrtals, whispered, "0, God of Mammy Honey ! will Ye not pity her child ? " A heavy step was now heard on the door- stone, and a merry well-known voice cried out, » Safe hoom again and wilcome to ye, Paddy Mannonl and that gentleman, with a bundle on a stick over his shoulder, leaped in with a whoop and a comical grimace. Ho had just returned from his yearly visit to Meg, and was wholly ignorant of the great sorrow at the cottage, ne stepped on tip-toe to the nmer door, and peeped in, hoping to c eer Mammy Houcy with the sight of his honest face. All was quiet there, and i.i perfect order. Pac.ay turned round, and seeing Peggy's ever busy hands folded helplessly on her lap, the truth burst upon his mi.»d, and ho cried out, "It's surely not dead that she is ! " -Yis, yis, Paddy, dead and alone in the churchyard; and why didn't God let mo go with her- when the heart o' mo is dead too? cried Peggy, with a fresh burst of tears. Paddy dropped the stick and bundle, and fall- *n..i«ii**f*— ••"'•'"^ •* ■^IPiiipiiiip jlaspnig Mammy \e door- •ied out, 3, Paddy a bundle 11 with a had just and was 7 at the Lho iimer Mammy face. All •. Pa(?.dy ever busy the truth out, « It's ne ill the let mo go ead too ? " ; of tears, lo, aud fall' A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 63 ill-,' down botweon John and Peggy on his kiieos, covered his face with his great rough 1 unds, and gave way also to a flood of tears. Soon ho broke out into a wild Irish wail, and chanted the praise of his lost mistress in a sort of rliyme, for whidi ho was very famous in the region, often being sent for to " iiowl out varses " over tlie dead whose relatives were no poets. , lie ran over her history and I»or vir- tues, from her childhood till tlie day she took possession of him, at tlie work-house. As a specimen of Paddy's poetical genius we will give the portion of the wail referring to him- self: — " And from the workhouse once she tuk Poor Paddy Mannon — that was luokl And rarcd him up a gplindid youth, Haped full o' vartue and o' truth ; Until he'd be to marry Mog, Who — rather far than work — would beg; She tachcd her how to spin and knit. But work she wouldn't, not a bit! Auil when that silver mornin' dawned On which my little Pat WM horned. She filled poor Paddy's heart with joy, By askin' God to bliss the boy. " 64 OEMS OF THE BOG. He told ofher holy life, in Which She " fed bc-ars, sought after peaee, and loved her JLs better nor herself;'' and how wheu utUc old mosthor" was taken from her she u thanked God .till that Himself was left to 1.0,; "he told how "She walked down quite contmt into the grave, satisfied that .hod find hlvenbeyont,"whieh, he added," she d.d, too and is there to-night." Eaeh sentence ended ,ith a wild howl peculiar to himself, winch no one could imitate. This duty over, poor, thoughtless Paddy seated himself, and was soon doubly comtorted by a bowl of bread and milk, and by the announcement that Mammy Honey had bo- qncathed him the blue deal chest ecn.tau.mg the wardrobe of the deceased Daddy bheehan . och ' but I wish this same had happened aforelwint; Meg would ha' been that proud to go with me, dressed up in that h on s xnan's Sunday coat, to Blarney Fan-, he exclaimed. „.. uO Paddy, Paddy!" cried Peggy, mourn- fully, '"yo surety did not wish her sooner ♦-• ■■ A CLOUD OVER DAIST FARM. 65 she " fed oved her 3W, wlieu i her she as left to 3WU quite she'd find e did, too, 3UC0 ended self, which ess Paddy r comforted md by the ey had bo- , containing dy Siicchan. id happened 1 that provid that honest y Fair," ho •cggy, inouru- li her sooner gone ? Lave yor foolish talking now, and go 10 bed like a good lad." " To bed in the loft is it, misthress dear ? " cried Paddy. " Sure there's not gold enough in all Ireland to timpt me up there alone. She'll ),o coming back oot o' her grave to watch do I say my prayers. 'Deed, I'll sit in this cliair till the marciful daylight comes, with the peat fire for protiction." Ho started suddenly, and turned towards the inner door, which, being on a crack, creaked on its hinges. " Och, but I think I saw hej' there now, shakin' Iior head at mo for the small drop o' whisky I drank witli Mike Troobrig on my way homo from the Fair. Pra that scared o' her that I'll niver touch another drop while tlio life's in mo! I've hoard often that dead people sees ivery thing a body does," and cast- ing another cautious glance at the door, he ciiod, *' Ilooly Mother Mary, protict me ! " " If tho blissod saint could come back and sit down i beside us, you surely would not bo nfearod o' her," said Peggy. " When she did only good on .this sinful arlli, she'd do «e QEMS OF THE BOG. no evil now that she's seen God a.id is like Him If I could but see tho shadow of her here, my poor sick heart would lape up for joy. Butril never, never see her more -unless, please God, I grow holy enough to go where she's siugin' to-night. But 0, John, how can she sing there if sl.e knows that her Peggy 8 heart is breaking down here ? John, John will you strive to help me on and to seek God yersclf ? " "Ay will I, darlin', and ye'll see well get on well in tlio way. I'll set out anew, dear ; I'll give two pound ton — ' » Cease telling what ye'll do, and think on what's been done for ye, darlin'. Ye never did a thing in yer life that would help ye on to heaven. What is our poor righteousness, John,toreeommindustoGod? Let us not be like the Papists, to trust in our own deeds." , Paddy sat with his beads in his hand, and nodded in the chair by the fire all night, occa- Bionally calling out, » Are you there, Masther John 1 " and being assured that protection was is lilco of her , for joy. - unless, p where how can Peggy's n, John, seek God we'll get BW, dear ; think on Ye never p ye on to teousness, Let us not our own hand, and light, occa- •0, Masthor itection was 1 A CLOUD OVER DAISY FARM. 67 1 at hand, he wonld doze again. After that 1 Jol ni iiirod a neighbor's boy to sleep with him | " weeks in the loft. -'. ..-.. ■- y\/'. ,',i.>' -•i^:-,v ■■ - I'/ry y 'v:^'- " •t "t' 1 1 • '- '(':■ ■•■■■■:■■■■,' •• ; ;,i-,;-': /'lA ■■■:"'■ ■•■.- -;, sij ,''^,; r ,'.■■ 1 ' . - ■' : ■ .■:•' )vl- ,,-^.\-ii/^- '; 1 ^1 ■■■^=.-;vff-V'::«'w.'.i..T' ;'.;- _ ,. "..:.,:,;::,■,■ , 1 ■■" V ;• ■ ";5^-^i .v.-.f :^":''- -■:■■--' S^'Wi^/^ ■ ■A,H«''''>^^^-v-.: .,■ -,%;:; /-::,.- ■,, . ;:j„,.-.y.; , ;:; I i^'^' = :it:-y\ .n;r •' j-.r ;,/;.•■ iUc^ •:.: .>.C3 I '•-:--. .■^'^'t.V ■>:,;.',;>,';■,;;,,; ,v ......■,■* ■' ,, . I ' ; ■■;■ ' ■ ;;■;:-:' ^r'^ ' y:rS-'"'--'' ■ 1 ■■_ '■• * ■ 'f „;•>.,„■. ;:■> ■-, 'i< ■■';;,'«■, .;?* ^B ■ I . :., ::: . -' : . ^.: ■„, a ;&. Sl. ..^.l-riiVi. , . JJ is* ' "j^f */' .,„, . ■ 1 ... ■; ^ ■ «,# v/ -■,■■■: "'-:;■•■ '.'-.(f-^ ♦•- ( CHAPTER VI. 0ON!iTJCT AND VICTORY WHEN the cottage was again restored to its old order and quiet -that order a.id quiet 80 painful to a bereaved heart -Peggy had "not worlc enough to keep the grief down " When she folded her hands to rest she suffered "such a hunger after the blissed one "that she grew nearly wild. She felt a constant impulse to run to Cloynmally and he down on the grave; and her prayer was no that God would sanctify her bereavement, but that He would take her " jist now and without delay to Himself and to the darlin' one. ^ » Come, jewel," said John, one day, "ye ve wept the full 0' a bucket o' tears; now cheer up and see if ye can't fill the place o' Mammy Honey in Killyrooke. Ye' ve always been a great sheep," Ue added, looking at her proudly, 68 r?^^'"^i^-™',..^i^!F!-> CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 69 istorcd to >rder and ; — Peggy the giicf ,8 to rest, he blissed She felt a lly and lie ir was not omeiit, but iid without aue." Jay, " yo've now cheer . o' Mammy ays been a tier proudly, " and it did well to have ye so when there was a strong mother in the cottage ; but now that ye are the mistress o' the house, ye must put on a brave face or I'll be left without a woman at ail!" ■-,■;;.•■:■;' >.■--'", So Peggy— poor, faithful heart — set out in real earnest to keep her sorrow down, that she might be a good, obedient and cheerful wife. Slie now, according to Mammy Honey's re- quest, called Nannie to her and told her as gently as possible that she had no further need of her services, and soothed her disappoint- ment—for Nan thought herself settled for life — by giving her a little silver brooch which Mammy Honey had worn in her maid- enhood. « Nannie, child," she said, «' remem- ber when you go from me that there's a God aboove ye; and so never let one onpure thought 'bide in the heart that beats under Mammy Honey's brooch. None but a hooly heart iver yet throbbed beneath it ; and only for its reminding ye o' her, and so, may be, ladin' ye to her God, makes me part with it ■ms 70 OEMS OF THE BOO. at all." And she kissed the little pin teii- doi'ly. Nan grasped the trifle eagerly, expressed regret that there was not a red stone in it, fastened it into the bosom of her linsey-woolsey gown, and stepped up to Peggy's nine-by- twelve looking-glass to admire herself. Turning her head this way and that to get a full view of her comeliness, she replied, " One thing is sure ; if ye won't keep me here I'll go over to Mike Crogan's, for he wants a bar- maid. Ho says my red cheeks is just the things to draw in guests o' market days, and he'll give me ten shillings a year more nor the last one had. She's destroyed entirely by the small pox, ye know." " Don't go there, Nannie. It's but a rough place at best, and what with fightin', and pitchin' coppers, and bettin' on donkeys o' market days, it's growiu' to be a curse to the town it's in. Take a place at sarvice, or else 'bide at home, knitting and mending for the childor," said Peggy. CONFUCT AND VICTORY. 71 pin tcu- xpressed le in it, -woolsey nine-by- : to get a d, " One •e I'll go ,s a bar- just the lays, and I nor the ly by the a rough tin', and lukeys o' se to the e, or else I for the ■ " I'll do nather one nor yet the other," re- plied Nan, pertly, "for I'm my own masther now.?' With several other gifts and words of ad- vice, which were thrown away on Nan, Peggy parted with her the next day, and saw her set off — without crossing the road to speak to her mother — for Drougally, where Mike Crogan kept a poor inn for drovers, under the style of " The Bull's-horn's Inn." Once more alone, Peggy sat down to Mam- my Honey's little flax-wheel. But the wheel caught and would not turn, and the thread knotted and snarled so that she could make no progress. Ah, it takes a happy, or at least an easy heart, to do effectually the lowliest work ! She put the wheel away in the inner room and seated herself, knitting in hand. She looked around the kitchen which had been for years so like a palace to her ; but now the -laoky rafters frowned on her, and the whole ])laco looked poor, empty and gloomy. She glanced wiihin her own heart, but all there was blackness and darkness. Dropping her v^msmmmmm ft 72 GEMS OF THE BOO. hands helplessly at her side, she cried, » Hif- enly Father, had yo no pity left for ycr poor orphant Peggy, when ye took the blissed Maiu- niy Houey away where ye had millions more like her, and left the world without a one, and my heart broke in two pieces ? Sure, ye can nivcr love me, or yo would ha' spared me this, by takin' me along with her ! " Ajid then the hitherto patient and submis- sive woman cherished hard thoughts of God, and doubted not only Uis mercy but His power. She was for a season iu the hands of the tempter and loft to buffet with him alone. Awful thoughts, of which she had never before dreamed, came rushing madly over her hitherto placid mind, like deafening torrents. " Perhaps, lifter all," she thought, « there is no God and no immortality. Per- haps Mammy Honey, and the minister, and all the church have been deceived, and the dear heart has slipped out of life-like her own pet lamb that died in the spring - to lie snise- less forever!" The bare suspicion against God filled her soul with anguish ; and falling CONFLICT AND VICTOR T. 73 !cv poor 3(1 Maiu- iis more DUO, and , yc can mo this, submis- of God, but His lie hands Yith hiin she had ig madly deafening tliought, ity. Pcr- ir, and all the dear 5 her own ) lie sinse- in against nd falling on her knees she shrieked out, " I'm undone, undone ! I've grieved the Holy Spirit by castiu away ray confidence, which hath great recompense o' reward ; and now I've lost God as well as. Mammy Honey, and I'm goiu' wild ! " Just then the words of the dying saint came to mind, " Remember, dears, the divil is not dead yet ; " and she realized his presence, tempting her to curse God and die, and trem- bled as a young lamb in the fangs of a wolf. Waving her hand bel ind her, she cried out in lier agony, " ' Get thee behind me, Satan,' for I have not the power o' Him yo trifled with and lied to on the mountain ! I cannot fast forty days and forty nights ; Lord, bind him hand and foot, that he do not destroy me ! " J " Why, then, if that can be so, I've been twice ' born again ; ' once when I was a lonely orphan t at dear Farmer Doane's, and now this last night again. And, John, look at me, and tell mo if I'm the same Peggy ye saw breakiu' her heart these last days because God didn't give up the rule o' all things — even life and death — into her foolish hands ? " " 1 wad niver great on thaology," replied John, " and if ye'd like, I'll drive ye to Cloyn- mally to ask yon question o' the minister to- morrow* " To-morrow ! I must walk the two miles as soon as my work is over, and call upon him, and good elder Peter, and them all, to bless and praise His holy name that Ho has revealed 78 OEMS OF THE BOO. Himself to me above all my sins o' doubt and distrust, and sent tbo divil off ashamed to his own place — asliamed b' the mane sperit that bid liini to pass by the strong soldiers o' the cross to fight with a poor, weak and ignorant child like inosilf." " And will ye go alone, yerself, to the minis- ter's house ? " asked John ; for that was a stretch of courage in her for which he was not prepared. • ^ . " Indade will I, though I never made that bold before. Why, John, I would go into his pulpit if God bid me, to tell o' His wondrous love — how Ho rovaled Himself to me as the altogether lovely, the last night, when all the world but mo was slocpin'. I think I'll never have time to sleep more while I live, John ; a whole life o' wakin' hours is far too short to praise Him in ! Och, but blissed bo His name, T'li have a whole ctariiity to finish in — but finished my praise can niver, nivor bo." Paddy Mnunon's appetite was the token to him thaf^ breakfast was ready. Ho liad drawn near the cottage and stood at, the door, amazed i>aiiii]|irtii CONFLICT AND VICTORY. 79 mbt and i to his Bi'it that 8 o' the ignorant 10 mmis- b was a ) was not ado that into hia yondrou8 10 as the 1 all the I'll never '0, John ; short to lis name, in — but token to ad drawn r, amazed at the joyful animation of his mistress, usually 80 calm and silent. He entered and took his seat at tlie table, before tiie snowy potatoes and the savory herring. " She's been convarted into a new Misthress Iloney," ho said to John. " Sure, I never heerd her say the like o' yon afore. What's coorao over her, that the tears is all dried and she a psalm singing 1 " " Whist, Paddy," said John. " She's got peace to her soul that ye could niver under- stand if I should strive to explain to ye." Alas, the poor man did not himself understand Peggy's sudden transition from anguish to Joy ; but he did not tell Paddy this. " This cooms in the way o' our religion," he added. " And, dear," said ho to Peggy ; " be sure ye take the dnrlin' mannny's little egg basket to the minis- tor's, and till his lady we'll keep up the gift o' herself as long as wo have a hin to cackle aboot tlic doors ! For I'll be sorry the minister should think there weren't a Christian left in tiie cottage to fade tho Lord's sarvants, now my mother's gone ! " SSMMI CHAPTER VII. VISIT TO THE MINISTER. • THE soft breozo of the bright autumnal afternoon was playing among tho leaves of the luxuriant woodbine which overhung the porch of the unpretending house of Mr. Mur- ray, the excellent minister of Cloynmally, when Peggy tapped at the door. Slie asked tho maid, " Do yo think tho minister would be at leisure to spake a few words to me ? " She was ushered into tho little parlor, where Mrs. Murray sat reading to Iku- boys, and was kindly received. Before she was seated, Mr. Murray entered, and holding out his iiand, spoke in very gentle tones, as is natural when wo address one in Ui>op affliction. " My good friund," ho said, " I'm sorry you Bhould have to come after mo in your sorrow. I was going dowu to Killyrooke in an hour or 80 a VISIT TO THE MimSTER. 81 two, to seo you. I met John and heard how crushed you were by your great loss — and our loss, too, Peggy ; for we are all mourners in Cloynmally." Peggy dropped a low courtesy and looked up to him with a beaming face. " Dear Mr. Murray," she began, " it's not to talk o' death or sorrow I've come ; but to tell ye something that's wonderful and glorious — more like a message from heaven than of arth. I don't know whore to begin nor what to say." Mr. Murray saw the unnatural light in tho mild blue eye, and said, " As you are so shy, Poggy, perhaps you'd feel more free to talk witli nio alone in my study." " 0, dear heart, no ! " cried Poggy. " I want the whole of Cloynmally and Killyrooke — tlie wliolo world, to know what God has done for me, a poor, rebillious, weak, shy tiling, unworth his care or notice ! Do yo think, sir, tliat iver a body wjis * born again' twice? " " I believe, Poggy, that many who have been truly renewed in heart are afterward brought jJUU-lJi l IJJIIIllH. ■m GEMS OF THE BOO. into a fuller liglit and joy, which seems to them almost like a new birth," replied Mr. Murray. , '";•"■ ■"^''■'^"•. "Well, dear Mr. Murray, ye know well what a weak child I have been — in spent — always holding on to Mammy Honey's skirt to keep my hope up. I've been years a hungcrin' and a thirstin' after righteousness. But mind ' what blindness I was in ! When I'd pray, I'd say, ' Make mo holy like Mammy Honey,' and not, ' as He is holy.' I made that blissed saint my pattern, and was iver strivin' to be like her and to plaze her. If God helped me to forgive my poor neighbors and to retarn them good for evil, I rejoiced, and thought, ' That is like her ai\d will plaze her.' « When the fear o' death would come over me I was in great trouble because I'd be parted from her, and I used to pray that God would take us two at one time, havin' a kind o' dim hope that her strength and courage would help to uphold me. But God came and took her from mo, and I'd fallen into sin and doubted his mercy; and woe's me, I charged raii - m,mmm VISIT TO THE MimSTER. 88 God with forgettiu' to be gracious and not kcepin' His covenant with the orphant! Satan tlien came and brought with him black- ness and horrible darkness; and I lost God and hope, as well as her ! Och, ye would ha' pitied me, dear sir, for I'd none to speak to — for John didn't understand me. I prayed for hours, till I sank exliausted on ray pillow and fell asleep. Then I dramed that I was walkin* weary and lame through huge bogs full o* holes and pits, and it black night about me. I dropped my staflFand feared to go on without it, and stood cryin'. All of a suddent it grew light, and there before me stood the two shinin' ones that Bunyan saw, and they bid me have gjod heart and walk bravely homeward. I told them I was hurted and could not go alone. Then said one o' them, ' Ye are niver alone; for tiiough ye see him not for yer blindness, the Saviour is beside ye always, and bcnath ye are the everlasting arms. It is this which has kept ye so that ye could not, and that ye will not fall — forivor ! ' I looked at my right hand, and there stood one like unto '"If: ^ OEMS OF THE BOO. the Son o' man, and all the time I'd been held up by Him and didn't know it. He turned His lovin' eyes on me and spake ; but the words I can nivcr tell, for they're gone fi-om me ; but they left my soul haped full o' joy, and now there's room for nothing else there ! I'm just flyin' to go and be foriver with Him, and yit I'm quite contint to 'bide here tin thousand years if by that same I could add a whit to His glory or bring one poor soul to taste His love. And my heart is that full o' love to my neighbors that I could take tliem all into my arms : they are no longer miserable •Papists' to me, but dear sinners that I must get saved with this great salvation! Did ye iver hear the like o' this before, sir? I walked all the way to ask ye." « Yes, my good woman," replied the minis- ter, looking in wonder at the radiant face over which tears of joy were freely coursing. « I know two persons who have enjoyed such wondrous revelations of God's mercy. One of them was a godly Scotch minister in Dundee. , He told me that he once had a season of such le minis- face over iing. "I yred such One of Dundee. )U of such VISIT TO THE MIlfiaTER. 85 perfect and conscious union with Christ that lie liad no will of his own left. Ho felt his whole being, for time and eternity, swallowed up in God. His glorious perfections and attri- butes were revealed to him in a way that led him to realize something of the glory of heaven, where Ho is all and in all. But I'll tell you, my dear friend, what else he said — not to dis- courage you, but so that, should his words come true, you will see that no strange thing is befalling you. He said that in all the cases he had known of this wondrous revelation, God was thus preparing the soul either for some great work or some great sorrow. Immedi- ately after his own triumphant view of God, there was such an outpouring of the Spirit as had not been in that city for a half century ; and he was thus fitted to gather in the lambs and to edify the saints. A worthy old saint, named Carmichal, experienced, years ago, much the same displays of God's power in his soul, leading him to make a new and fuller sur- render of himself and his all to Christ. Not long after this a fearful distemper prevailed, #1 OEMS OF THE BOO. and his three children were smitten down and his house left unto him desolate. And he said that he gave them up with joy in his soul — that he could not refrain from falling on his knees hefore his neighbors, and thanking God that Ho had accepted those whom he had so often committed to His care." « And so, dear Mr. Murray, them two had a heaven as well as mysilf on arth. But what could labor be but joy, after one has had a look at the Saviour's face ? I can't see what could como that one would have the boldness to call ' throuble,' after yon vision o' heaven in tlie soul." "-:■'' /'■-";■,:-■■-';, ■'■-^ ;'».- ■•'.■■' -^ ,■;■■ "Why, Peggy, death must ever remain a curse, for it separates us from those we love, you know, even if they and we are prepared to meet again," said the minister. " But it can never be a curse to me, dear heart, after this day. If I had twenty Mammy Honeys I'd give them all to Him, though I'd not a one beside, in all the world, to love me. What could I hold back from one who gave Himself for me ? " VISIT TO THE MINISTER. 87 "All, Peggy, my good woman, you have reached a height your minister haa not yet caught sight of. The King has held out His Bceptro to you and suffered you to speak in His presence chamber. Go home and ask Him to reveal Himself to me — His weary servant who haa long toiled for souls in darkness hero — as He has dona to you. And may the God of peace abide wiih you." - •/ All this time Peggy liad held Mammy Honey's little egg-basket on her arm, and now, "ccoUecting herself, she gave it with John's oaossage to Mrs. Murray, and said, " The sun is iinking, find I must go to look after my milk when poor Paddy brings it in. And I must take a step into the church-yard as I go, to look at the swate, pacof'ii grave where my darlin' is sleepin." And with a "-ourtesy she departed. As she passed thi^ igh the little flowei^gar- deu on her way to the "oad, Peggy stooped to look at a little flower "Pluck as many as you please, my dear friciil," said the minister, who stood in the door watching her. She I ^a^ * . ..'".;",*■ iSt. .;*a«. -™^.»?i?Lt; Vtki';' .^'W*. .•- ^j*«**^u«^^^.ii^ '^^'*^*--^^-^^^-^5i>4^i*Mi^^«£fe4i^^ -^^^ofv.-.'jivw ;-'.., '■•.'-':■ - ^■■-'- ■'i'' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I m 11^ »J IIIIIM "S m !• m M 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 M 6" — ». # /} ^ /} om^ ■el fii o A» W / L Photographic Sciences Corporation \ 4^ 33 WEST MAIN STRUT WEBSTIR.N.Y. MS80 (716) 873-4S03 ^9) V 4^ ^ \\ Q> ^ \^^ ^ t^ r , %<' w'- f/u f/. CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques ■ ---.>••. .'«^'-'"''-''*'«~*' ■•'-Vw»^«4tUii.ii'.. 88 OEMS OF THE BOO. gatliered a few sprigs of mignonette and licart's-case, and, curtseying lier thanks, went on. As Mr. Murray closed the door, ho saw her press them to lier lips. " Ah, look at her! " he said to his wife. "Her heart is so full of love to-day that she is forced to pour it out on the smallest things that God has made ! Oh, for her exceeding great joy ! " When Peggy reached the little church-ya.-d, she stood a moment looking over the hcdgo which surrounded it ; then she passed in, and \ip a path to the new-made grave. A work- man was there trimming the hedge ; two little boys were wandering about hand-in-hand in solemn curiosity, whispering their questions and answers to each other ; a score of merry birds wore trilling and twittering — they hud no fear of death. But Peggy heeded neither sight nor sound. She was alone with God. " Sure," she said, " this can never be the aw- ful place we left so late ! all here is calm and holy and homelike ! and she, the mother o' my heart, is but slapin' after the wary day. -,-. "ifo'^.a iU^'iAi*!.; )nette and laiiks, went I door, he ill, look at lieart is so ed to pour t God haa ■tjoy!" Imrch-ya.'d, tho hedge ised in, and I. A work- ledge ; two and-in-hand r questions 3 of merry — they hud dcd neither with God. be tho aw- I calm and mother o' wary day. ■(»f'^**iiiw^i»-'i-'- VISIT TO THE MINISTER. This is but the open door to hiven, my Father's house, where herself is a waitin' mo ! But whin I reach the place, my heart will bo that full o' Himself, that it'll be a space ere I run to her! He is to me, as niver till this day, the altogether lovely! He makes death aisy and the grave blissed. 0, death ! where is *hy sting, 0, grave ! where is thy victory ? They are both gone ; and we, when we is risen with Christ, will be conquerors, and shall wear the crown ! Oh, tho love o' God in Christ Jesus ! How iver shall I show it to the world, and brii'g them all to taste it ! " She sat on the new-laid sod, smoothing it gently with her hand. " I must away now, darlin', homo to my duties ; the roughest o' thim all looks jist lovely to me now! I'll never again ask to bring ye back from ihe joy o' the Lord; never weep more for ye, and never cast reflections on God, by sayin' — ' I've lost my mother;' for I've not! I have her still, far safer and surer nor before, in the bosom o' the Lord. Farewell, darlin' dust ! %^, 90 GEMS OF THE BOO. for there's nothing hero but that ! " And with a plaoid face, the lovnig crea'ure pressed a fervent kiss on " the dear arth that covered the darlin'," laid the little flowers upon it, and went on her homeward way. And with ■e pressed a lat covered irs upon it, CHAPTER VIII. SINGING AND WOBKINa. WHEN Peggy returned to her labors, a light seemed to shine over every homely thing she touched, and toil was changed from a curse to a blessing. When the dairy work was over, sho stirred up the peat, which usually supplied her with light, and brought out once more the little wheel. The flax flew a" if by magic under her fingers, and the threads ran from it like silver wires in the changing firelight ; and before she knew it, she was ding- ing at her work. Tlmt she had rarely done in her happiest day, for, as John said, " sho was snch a quiet-like mousie yo'd nivcr know sho was in tlio world but only for the power o' work she tarned off her two hands." It had been Mammy Honey's wont to cheer lab r with Bong, and Peggy had now resolved to bo as 92 GEMS OF THE BOO. nearly like her as possible, in all things. John joined her song, and at the end of the first verso Peggy, turned to Paddy, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, mending the donkey's harness. He always insisted that " though it was manners entirely to sit in a cheer, if it was rest a lad was afther, there was nothing like a smooth clay floor for that." " Paddy," said his mistress,'' ye've got a swate voice whin ye sing yon heap o' nonsinsc ; why can't yo use it, dear man, to praise the Lord with ? " "I'm afcared o' that cudgel o' his rivor- enco's, misthress dear. I've felt the weight o't moor nor once , and one time warn't my shoulders black and blue with the knocks I got o't for larnin' the 'Simbly's Catechism? I promished him that day I'd hear no more prayers here, and forgit that same catechism — sure I know it so well now that I can say ivory blissed word o't and count at the same time ! Whin Misthress Honey wint and asked him what her b'y had ben doin' that dosarved im- braces like yon, didn't ho toll ber I'd boon « SINOma AND WORKING. 93 ings. John of tho first was sitting }r, mending iisisted that to sit in a •, there was for that." got a swate isinse ; why Q tho Lord ' his river- 3 weight o'fc warn't my nocks I got )chism ? I r no more atochism — m say ivory samo time ! asked him sarved im- r rd been Stalin' pears out o' his garden ? It nigh broke iior heart thinkin' that I, a well-fed lad, would be that mean and vicious! And niver a pear did he raise in tliat ould garden ! " Well, thin slie put me to larnin' the com- mandmint, 'Thou shalt not stale ; ' and tho drst time I confissed, didn't lie draw that out o' me and give mo another batin' ? So betwixt the twos o' 'em poor Paddy had a sorry life o't, and the wise conclusion I come to was jist tliis : to belave my dear misthress' religion, and to pretind that I belaved his. So that ways I gets on quite asy. No, no, I'll not be caught by any neighbor that'll chance in, a singing hums, but I'll listen ; that's all ye can expect o' me." " Tliere, there, Paddy, don't hinder the swate singin' all night with yer talk, foolish man. Keep quiet while we sing, and try to praise God in yer heart," said John. " Ay," replied Paddy, " I wull. Don't ye think, masther, the lather o' thim reins war rotten entirely whin we bought em? I was toUin' Jack Garin— — " itnUMU'titilii't i '; M 94 OEMS OF THE BOO. " Whist, Paddy," cried John, sharply, " and listen to tlie singin'." "I wull, thin," answered Paddy, bending over his work, and pressing his lips together so tiglitly that no word could slip through unawares. When Peggy had finished her spinning and her singing for tlio night, she brought out two large bags filled with yarn, carded and spun by the hands now folded forever. She poured out the hanks on the table, and looking proud- ly at the high mound they made, said, " Look, John and Paddy ! , It's little o' this yo'll need, for she left ye both supplied with warm stock- ings for five years. So the nady will get it ; and I've had jist a lovely thought come to me, like it had come from herself in heaven." " May be ; but it wouldn't need come so far, for yer own heart's full o' as good and pure thoughts as is to bo found any where ; " replied John ; " but let us hear this one." " Whin I was wonderin' what more lovin' ■work I could do in the world, this came to my mind, that I was young and strong, a'ld ini)Miifiifcidiwj»j[<>i^.. •ply, " and r, bending IS together p through uning and lit out two and spun he poured ing proud- d, " Look, yo'll need, arm stock- ^ill get it ; »mo to me, .ven." une so far, and pure ; " replied ore lovin' line to my roug, a'ld fiiUiiAiiriairiiiiiiiaifcjiliifc, SmaiNO AUTD WORKINO. didn't nnde all the slape I'm takin' ; and that if I'd rise one hour arlier and go to slape one hour later, nddin' that time to the hours I could give to her old work for the nady, it ^ould atone a bit for the loss o' her, and it would make me that glad to feel that myself was honored by fiUin' her place ir. tlie poor's hearts ; " and parcelling out the yarn she continued, " Thim skeins will bo enough for Teddy Byrns, and thim for old Davie Loon. These will knit four pairs for the poor babies o' careless Kate Connor, and tliese for lamo Jerry, and them for the poor fool, and——" " Quit, Peggy, woman," cried John, starting up, and manifesting a temper tiiat she had seldom seen before ; " would ye be turnin' yer back on yer husband's honor and on tlie rispic- tability o' all the race o' Sheohan by covering the feet o' yon vile scapegrace ? I hope the toes will freeze off his two feet, and that he'll starve to death with the cold afore spring laughs on the fields agin — to disgrace a fine rispictable funeral as he did yon day, -— the villyan ! " tmm 96 OEMS OF THE BOO. «' " Mam my Honey both clothed and faded her inimies, John, and it's no more nor the Musther bids us all do. Sure, there'd bo a great tarnin' up o' tilings if Himself sliould cease to fade ony but His friends ! 0, dear man, mind He's sent His rain on our fields mony the time when we war livin' forgetful enough o' Him, and has had an eye on every cratur' in herd or fold while we war slapiu' warm in our bed." " Peggy, woman, ye'ro a great sheep. I b^ lave if one should slap ye in the face ye'd offer him bread and milk to pay him for his attin- tions ! Now mind what I say — that seldom bids ye agin yer will, as other husbands does — let no mouthful that I arns iver go betwane the teeth o' yon fool, and let no wool off" my sheep's backs ever cover his old feet ! I'm plannin' yet how I'll punish him for yon onre- ligious insult, and ye'd be knittin' stockiu's for him the manewhile ! Indade ! " Peggy jaade no reply ; but Paddy's ready tongue filled up the gap which would other- wise have been left in the couversatiou. ]nin'na■}ll,ii&riai^«ll ^iwiiiii^iV'iirVtfiifiahiiJiifi*! - and faded >re nor the lere'd be a self sliould i! 0, dear our fields a' forgetful e on every war slapiu' eep. I be- J ye'd offer r his attin- liat seldom sba'jds docs go betwane ool off my feet ! I'm * you onre- i' stockiu's Idy's ready ould other- iou. SiyOINO AND WORKING. VT " Masther, dear," ho cried, eagerly, " will ye lave his punishment in my hands ? I'll hide ahind the hedge when I sees him comin', all dressed in a shate wid horns on my head, and hug him in my two arms. He's the cowardest cratur' in Killyrooke, and that would tarmint him far more nor the hugest batin ! " " Och, John, dear, don't let Paddy taze him, for he's one o' the Lord's stricken ones, and we'd surely grieve Him if we'd be to scare away the bit o' sinse he has. Shame on ye, Paddy Mannon ! Ye that are so afeared o' ghosts and the Evil One that ye daren't go to yer bed alone, and has to be coaxed up to the kitchen fire like a froze lamb ; ye to be plot- tin' torture like yon for a poor thing that's witless enough to do ony man's biddin' ! " " Well, noo, both o' ye do my hiddin\" said John. " Paddy, ye lave yon fool in yer mas- ther's hand; and, Peggy, let me see no stockiu's goin' out o' the cottage to him." This resolute tone was so unlike the yielding John that Peggy looked up in alarm, and made no reply. Bemembering, as she never 7 ■iSim pvunnpii 98 GEMS or TUE BOG. ceased to do, that all there belonged to John, and that she came to him a poor orphan with lier worldly all in a little blue trunk that Paddy had carried into tlio cottage in one hand, she submitted to his will. « iMi r i la il i i ai . H ir« ti Ml >>ir ii iii'^ifi-tmn'a^ •■tirt ihiiiiftii 1 to John, plian with runk that ;e ill one CHAPTER IX. AN UKWELCOME GUEST. THE winter, long and dreary, wore away, and the first whisperings of spring were heard among the brandies around the cottage. Cheerfully as the fond Peggy had yielded up her mother to God, she yet suffered at times an unutterable longing for her, and an unde- fined dread lest the swallows might not come back to build under tho thatch, and that the liawthorn and honeysuckle would forget to bloom. It seemed impossible that the birds could come, now that the hand which had fed them was gone, or that the vinos could creep upwaid in their silent strength when her hand was not there to train them ; or that the sham rock and the daisy could peep above the cold sod, when she who had so loved their lowly beauty was no longer there to smile on them. 100 GEMS OF THE BOO. Nature is n-^t retarded in her progress by any changes in our homes, but moves on in her noiseless work to cheer the hearts and pro- vide for the wants of tho living. Fruits succeeded the blossoms, and again the grain waved with its ripened burden in the fields of Daisy Farm. The reapers were busy with John and Paddy at a distance from the house. Peggy felt keenly the loss, which seemed renewed by this commemorative sea- son. The stillness of the cottage impressed her so painfully, one day, that she was glad when the sinking sun shone aslant the door- stone, reminding her that it was time to go to her milking. The shadows had begun to fall before she had finished her wo; k in the barn- yard ; and being sad, she was not as brave as usual. At) she took up her stool in one hand and her shining pail in the other, and turned to go towards " Maid o' Longford," the last cow, she was not a little startled at seeing a tall, thin figure close behind her in tho garb of a beggar. The famine was just then beginning to cast its shadow over poor Ireland, and k.tMMiMMd'lL*' ■ W^miihMvM tKiir ] 'ii)»iiiriiiii>i progress by lovcs on in irts and pro- , and again Lirdeu in the s were busy ice from the loss, which lorative sea- e impressed 10 was glad it the door- irae to go to )egun to fall ,n the bam- as brave as in one hand id turned to le last cow, icing a tall, 10 garb of a 1 beginning I'eland, and AN UNWELCOME QUEST. 101 beggars were becoming not only plenty, but insolent, often threatening and cursing those who did not meet all their demands. Always timid, Peggy was really terrified as the close, black hood was not lifted from the face of the silent beggar. "And what is it I can do for ye, poor thing?" she asked, in a tremulous voice. " Peggy," replied the woman, « it's a si 3lter and a bit o' bread I wants. For the love o' God and Mammy Honey take me in, for I'm dying with hunger and wakeness." The voice struck Peggy with n sudden faint- ness, and she exclaimed, " Sure, Nanny, tluT is never ye, lookin' thus miserable ? " " It's no other," replied the girl, throwing back her hood, and showing her wan face. " Peggy, Mammy Honey never refused shelter even to a dumb brute." "No more will her child do it," replied Peggy. " I'll give ye all ye nade." " Well, thin, I nades a homo more nor any thing else. I've been tindin' bar ilsewhere since I left ould Crogan, who niver paid me a 102 GEMS OF THE BOG. lia' pith, and I was sick tho last three mouths in a hospital, and have walked all the road home, and am dyin'." "Why not go to yer own father's house, child? Where elho would one go in throu- ble ? " asked Peggy. " Tliey'ro angered with me for lavin' thim that suddent. My mother sint word she'd murther mo if iver I come aboot here agin." " And why thin did ye come, child ? " asked Peggy. "To find marcy at yer hand, ye happy •woman. Lot mo 'bide under ye' marciful ruff," she answered, in an imploring tone. Peggy's heart sank within her, but her kindness triumphed over her fears, and sho replied, " Ye may 'bide hero, Nanny, till ye'ro warmed and fed, but if they'd give mo Harploy Hall I could never give 70 a home. Mammy Honey bid us two live by ourselves, with her last brith. But come with me now into the cottage ; " and Peggy took the little rod shawl from off her own shoulders, and wrapped it around the girl, who was shivering, for the AN UNWELCOMr GUEST. 108 •ee mouths [ the road ;r's house, iu throu- lavin' thim rord she'd agin." d?" asked ye happy ' marciful ; toue. ', but hop 9, aud sho y, till ye' re no Harpley I. Mammy s, with her )«r iuto the [J rod shawl wrapped it ng, for the dew was falling, and led the way to the cot- tage. Here she stirred the peat till the waiting kettle puffed out anew its steam, aud then, taking down from a high shelf the tiny canister, mixed a cup of tea. When Nan was well warmed and revived by a good supper, her old assurance returned. " Come, Peggy," she said, coaxingly, " give a poor, disappointed and abused girl a home iu yer cottage, and I'll spin and wave for ye from daybreak till midnight." "Nanny," replied Peggy, summoning all her courage, "I'll do ye good ony way but this. Ye can niver ^bide in this house. John made me misthress o't the day God took the darliu' mother to Himself ; and while I remain that ye can never slape under this thatch." Nan gave a low, derisive laugh, which made her wan face terrible, and said, " If I war a Protestant ye'd kapo me. But take yer own way ; there's poor luck follows them as tarns the homeless oot o' doors." " Ye are not homeless, child, and nather am I thrntin' ye out; but doin' my hist for ye," I m 104 OEMS OF THE BOO. replied Peggy. " Paddy Mannon, that's o' yer own religion, has often declared he'd not 'bide under the same ruff with ye, for he's heard evil tales o' ye, child, since ye left me. So, when yo'ro well rested, go over to the father's house and get forgiveness, and be a good girl. There come my rapers now over the field, and I must take up their supper. Here's a crown, if ye'd be wantin' any little comforts." Nan rose feebly, took the proffered crown, turned her deep blue eyes sorrowfully on the good woman, and said in a hollow tone, which struck to her heart, "Ye may see the day. Peg O'Canty, when ye'U cross this door-stone with a sorrowfuUer heart nor I do now ! " Peggy was startled by her wild manner, and cried, "Och, Nanny, child, don't be cursin' yer bist friend! I'm ony mindin' Mammy Honey's biddin', and yet I must tell ye that I'm more afeared o' ye nor o' death itself." " And well ye may be," cried Nan, as with another stare at the timid woman she departed for her home. ■iftiii»wvwfrtitftrtn mimMlmmtilmmmltlllgi , that's o' i he'd not re, for he's ye left me. )ver to the , and be a s now over eir supper. i' any little jred crown, ■iiUy on the tone, which se the day, door-stone ow ! " lanncr, and be cursin' n' Mammy tell ye that I itself." Ian, as with he departed yiUjlil^^ AN UNWELCOME OVEST. 105 Peggy was in an agony. She could then have given her the cottage and all it con- tained, so great was her fear of Nan's designs on licr peace of mind. The serpent's tooth had euterod Peggy's heart, and she could scarcely wait till the reapers had gone out to smoke by the roadside, to cry, "Tell me once for all, John, that ye love me more nor all else in the world." John laughed and asked, " Who other have I to love, jewel ? " When Peggy told the story of Nan's visit, he said, " Ye did well, for she's not fit company for ye, and I'll not sufier her aboot the place after the word o' our mother." And Peggy was satisfied, and laughed at her own fears and those of Paddy, roused by Nan's boast, which had reached their ears that though John was her father's playmate, she would be his second wife, and have that fine cottage and dairy yet. I* P IP U CHAPTER X. FAMINE AND DEATH. THE fever which followed in the wake of starvation in Ireland some twenty yeata ago, had been sweeping off its victims in the surro. ading rej^ion, but had not hitherto reached Killyrooke, nor yet had the potatoes there suffered to any greet extent. The peo- ple listened witli white lips to any account of *' the sickness," and if a person came from an infected region they fled from him as if he had the plague. Tlic stoutest hearts quailed before the dreadful scourge, and men were afraid even to be merciful to the starving, lest the next day their own little ones might be crying for bread. Meg Mannon had extended h • begging ex- cursion unwittingly into a village where tho fever had jurt broken out. Tl - half-starved IM m w u m rm MMwijn m 4MintlltKKltamttllSl$ p^j^mufi 10 wake of wonty yeats tims ill tlio lot hitliorto Lhe potatoes t. The peo- accouub of ime from an as if he had nailed before afraid even est the next >e crying for begging ex- ;e wliere the half-starved 10 FAMINE AND DEATH. 107 and poorly sheltered people were flying, panic- stricken, ill every direction. Here she fell sick, and gave a pauper two shillings to walk three miles to Killyrooke for Paddy, who ran all the way there, howling piteously, talking to her and crying real tears, and not the mock ones he got up for strangers. He reached the workliouse "just in time to see her die without a word o' love to the fine b'y who had been layin' down his very life for her all the years she war his wife." Oh, the overflowing anguish of that poor, foolish heart in that bitter hour, with none to speak a soothing word, and the gruff beadle giving his orders impatiently to have Meg buried before her form was cold ! Paddy grasped this dignitary by the arm j and while his tears ran like a summer shower, he cried, " Oh, if yer honor has the heart o' a hoosband benath his waistcoat, I imploores him to give me the swate clay o' my lovely wife till I gets it waked and buried in holy ground at Killyrooke — the only place in all the wide world worth bein' buried in." 108 OEMS OF THE BOG. The hard heart of the beadle was moved by Paddy's deep grief, and he finally promised to lot the body remain in an out-building till the devoted husband could make his arrangements at home, and return for it with the donkey- cart. So, carrying the frightened little Pat in his arms, Paddy ran back at the top of his speed — he had won a fine pipe and a steel tobacco- box once at a foot race — and rushed breathless into the cottage. *' Och — masther — John — and Peggy, ye angel o' a woman — I've a great honor — to ask o' ye. For the sake o' — Mammy Honey — that nive.* denied me an honor — for the sake o' the Virgin — Mary — and all the saints ontirely — would ye let me— bring Meg— the dear dead jewel — to the ould cow-house fernint the bog to-night to be waked, and thin to be buried the morrow ? " Terrified as they were by the very name of the sickness by which Meg had died, and by the sight of Paddy and his boy from an infected house, they had not the heart to deny his re- iMHta s moved by promised to liug till the rrangements the donkey- ! Pat iu his of his speed tcel tobacco- ;d breathless Peggy, yo t honor — to mmy Honey r — for the ill the saints g Meg — the louse fernint thill to be 3ry name of lied, and by a an infected deny his re- ■Ha MHkt' FAMINE AXD DEATH. lOf quest. But the prudent John dared not trust his donkey in the infected region, and told Paddy so. He, nothing daunted, replied, sob- bing bitterly, " Och, masther, heart o' love, if ye'd be to lend me the loan o' the dray we drags water with from the loch, I .a quite willin' to be a donkey mesilf, for the sake o' kapin' my word to the dead jewel, that I'd give her a fine funeral. Och ! och ! But it's black night entirely in my soul now and will iver be till the day when I lies down beside her. I'll never ate, drink or smoke more ; why would I when she's dead ? Och ! och ! oo, hoo ! " It really seemed to Peggy that Paddy's heart would break through* its strong breast- works with its tremendous throes. Peggy wept too, not that she cared milch for the beggar-woman, but from sympathy with him. She told Paddy to take poor little Pat into the cow-house and feed him well, and put him to rest in the hay till his return, for John was not willing either father or child should remain iu the cottage a moment. Having done this, PIBP it; 110 GE3IS OF THE BOO. and in a marvclously short timo returned with hig melancholy burden ou the dray, he went off to spend his quarter's wages in ginger- bread, whisky and tobacco, and to invite his fiienls to the melancholy feast. But the news had preceded him, and they all fled from him with screams of terror. So he returned homo and shouted to his mistress from the stile : *' Sure, I've lost my quarter's wages, for not a one will come to the wake ; the fools is all afeard o' Meg, as harmless a cretur' as iver begged bread. But she'll get a prayer said for the repowse o' her sowl, as good a one as if she war the lady o' Harpley Hall, and I'll settle wiih his riverence at ihe end o' my uixt quarter." And Paddy, who was so afraid of death that he ran off a few months before and stayed away two days when the oldest donkey died, sat alone in the cow-house all night beside his dead, singing a dirge, or howling and crying. Now and then he consoled himself with his pipe, but he dared not even cast a sly glance limed with ', he went in ginger- invite his it the news from him irned home . the stile : 3, for not a bols is all ;ur' as iver yer said for »ne as if she i I'll settle >' my uixt d of death 5 and stayed onkoy died, lit beside his and crying, elf with his I sly glance FAMINE AND DEATB. Ill at the whisky jug, lest that might bring up Mammy Honey, who was a sworn foe to every thing like it. Some mourners plant rare flowers and rear costly monuments over their beloved dead ; but it costs them nothing compared with what Paddy endured before he thus rose triumphant over inborn cowardice and natural superstition. Had he believed that his doing so would have helped Meg's unshriven soul to slip more easily through purgatory, he would have lain down and been buried beside her. In the gray light of the morning, while little Pat was sleeping soundly in the hj"./, Paddy drew poor Meg to the httlo Catholic churchyard and, lowered her gently uito a grave he had dug there the night before, talking to her all the time amid bursts of tears, " It's yer own Paddy, dear, that's puttin' ye to rist. It war him made yer bed, and only for little Pat he'd come and lie down aside ye. Sure I'd niver let ould Murtagh dig yer grave with his dirty hands. No, darliii', mesilf did it with me best Sunday clothes on, — thim as was Daddy j»p:afc*fra g*' w 'S' fc Wirea1cfast out ihild, Peggy 'ay between )een quaran- i cow-house the dreaded 5 to the cot- sad and milk the farthest " Paddy, yer masther and mo is both wonderful taken up with yon curly-headed lamb o' yours ; and he bids ye not take him back to the workhouse, for lie's to 'bide with us and be our child, as wc niver had one o' our own. And who can tell, Paddy, but God took Meg away tliat the poor larabio might be spared a beggar's life, and grow up a holy man to fear God and to sarvo liis gineration." : i " Very like He did, thin," replied Paddy, " and if so, it war a great stroke o' luck that sint her to that town the very day the faver began ! " *' Don't say that, Paddy, o' the poor mother ; for whativer failiu's Meg had, slie was tinder o' the boy — niver lavin' him about among neighbors, as the half o' them do, but draggin' him weary miles on her back ! " " That's true, iudade ! But for all, it was luck to little Pat, that tuk her off, if therebys he's to be rared the son o' a fine, rispectable farmer, place o' beiu' reared a beggar. It's fine luck for little Pat, though it's raurther for "UN SBOHBIIini 114 GEMS OF THE BOG. me, poor distracted lad that I am, witliout a heart in me bussum ! Oboo ! boo ! boo ! " " And wbo can tell, Paddy, but tbo cbild's innocent prattle may win yer mastbcr away from bis frolics with thim outidy urcliiiis across the road? He's such a loon about childcr, the poor, foolish man! We'll kape tlie boy that swate and clano that the very minister himself could take him on his knee and kiss him." "Dado will ye," replied Paddy, looking proudly at the pretty, bright boy. "But what about the religion, though?" he asked, as the disadvantages of the offer began to sug- gest themselves. " His riverence will bate the life out o' me if I suffer him to be tached yon 'Simbly's Catechism and the ten Protestajit commandmints." " Paddy, if we takes 1 'm for our child, he'll be namei Johnny Sheehan, and the priest will have no more to say aboot him nor he does aboot Mr. Murray's boys. And Paddy, I belave yer bearin' false witness agin Father* am, witliout a 30 ! hoo!" jut tho child's masthcr away jutidy urchins a loon about ! We'll kape that the very ax on his knee ?addy, looking \, boy. "But I ? " he asked, r began to sug- 30 will bate the be tachcd you tea Protostapt our child, he'll I the priest will im nor he does And Paddy, I ss agin Father* FAMINE AND DEATH. 115 Clakcy. Ycr masther will tell him whin nixt he gocH by, that we've taken little Pat for our child, and had him new named." So little Pat was stripped of his beggar's garb, dressed like a farmer's child, and i)laced on a high stool of John's manufacture, at the table. Ho at once began to call Peggy " mam- my," and John " daddy ; " and being almost a stranger to his father, he now called him " Paddy Mannon," as every body else did> Whenever John came in from the field the little fellow would run to meet him ; and when he was seated in the cottage, he would climb on his knee, and putting his arms round his nock, call liira " pretty daddy," and ask, " May mo ride donkey ? What did old donkey say ? " Then John would tell long stories of what tho donkeys, cows and ducks asked about " the now little lambie that had come to. the cottage, with black wool on his head and red roses on his checks ! " John taught him to count, and to tell the names of coin, and to whistle ; Peggy taught him tho command- ments, and the words of Jesus, " Suffer tho 116 OEMS OF THE BOG. li V, I little children to come unto Me, for of such is the kingdom of heaven." Before ho had been there a week, whistles, tin carts, a jumping- jack and a drum, — trifles which liad never before found tlieir way to Killyrooko, were scattered over Peggy's kitchen-floor, and John never went to town but he brought homo sonio toy, about as new- and surprising to him and Paddy as to the boy. All three agreed tliat a child was a wonderful thing for making sun- shine in a cottage. One day, before poor Meg had been a week in her grave, Peggy went out of the cottage, leading little Johnny by the hand, to feed the poultry. As she neared the stile which, led from the garden into a barley-field, she saw Paddy mounted on the topmost rail, mending his corduroy breeches with a darning needle and twine, and singing, with the full power of his lungs — and that is saying a great deal — •• Norra is a fine gerl, Cbakcs liko the rose, , , People tbiiik t:Ue is the quane, Every wliere slic goes! O, tlio flower of Tippcrary! •• f such is tho 3 lidd been a jumpiiig- liad never rooko, were r, and John . home some to him and ;reed that a aaking sun- been a week the cottage, , to feed tho which, led 3ld, she saw ail, mending 'ning needle ill power of -cat deal — srary!" " 0, Paddy, Paddy," cried Peggy, « that's puroly not ye, singing yon foolish song ! What were ye and the priest doin' but a few days agonc in tho churchyard ?" " Ilooly nu)tlier ! " cried Paddy, springing from tlie stile and throwing up both hands in surprise, " Sure I'd forgot ontirely that Meg was dead at all ! Ye don't think, dear mis- thress, that she'll come back to haunt me for singin' aboot the 'Flower o' Tipperary ' ? Be- lavo mo that I've not at all made up me mind aboot another wife yet, or even whether I'll take one or not ; and why would I, miserable man that I am, when the wide warld hasn't another like lier ? Where would I iver find one so strong as she, that would nivor ask me for the price o' a peck o' male in the year, but take all the care o' hersilf and her boy, and buy all my tobaccy beside ! Oohoo ! Oohoo ! How'U I iver live in the arth without me jewel Meg?" and he wrung his hands, and wept and groaned pitoously. i His grief, however, was soon spent, and he sprang up on tho stilo again and resumed his n! 118 GKM8 OF THE BOO. mending with as much spirit as if no great SOI row was on him. Paddy loved his friends Avhilo they were with him, but "out of sight" they were soon " out of mind," and he was as jolly and contented as if he had never known them. Peggy suflFered some anxiety about the com- panions with whom little Johnny would mingle when he could no longer be kept at her side. Her heart shrank from his hearing an oath or witnessing the brawls of the neigh- boring children. Nan, who had not yet been murdered by her parents, as she had predicted she would be, often brought over her mother's baby, a bright, plump creature, neat to a marvel, for him, to play with Johnny, and occasionally took her seat, uninvited, at the supper-table. This, of course, yexed Peggy, . but she bore it meekly, bei..g too much afraid of Nan to forbid her visits. The good woman's fears for little Johnny's future were all needless. For one short year he made sunshine in the cottage, and then came a sickuoss which gave no alarm till too .iuatriiinnia c " if no great I his friends ut of sight" d he was as never known »ut the com- hnny would V be kept at his hearing )f the noigh- iiot yet been ad predicted lier mother's , neat to a Johnny, and vited, at the exed Peggy, . much afraid ;tle Johnny's short year ro, and then ilarm till too late for help , and soon his prattle was hushed in doath. And again the cottage was silent. Peggy wept as if Jier heart would break ; and yet she blamed John for his boisterous grief, saying, "Don't let yer neighbors say, dear, that ye wail louder for a beggar's baby iior for yer own holy mother! Thank God with me, John, that the little darlin's safe with Himself, rather than us taken and him left in the hands o' poor, careless Paddy. Heaven will bo more liko our home, John, now that we've both our mother and our child there." Heaven was to John a place very far off; and he gave little thought to it — or, indeed, to any thing beyond his home-work and his crops. So, after a sad week or two, he was the same as before ho had found and lost the child. . Wliile John and Peggy were weeping over the little cold form lying on Mammy Honey's bed — now a sacred place — Paddy was flying about with an excited business air, making arrangements for the funeral, and comforting ' >. " l\ 1'30 GEMS OF THE BOO. Peggy and John as if lie lilinsclf had no part iu the afllicliou. He had given the child away, therefore his death wus nothing which particularly concerned hira. Iiad no part t the child thing which CHAPTER XI. A QBEAT SOBROW. "VrOT a week had passed, after the death of 11 little Johnny, when Paddy saw his mas- ter tossing coppers among the little O'Gor- mans, and stepping up behind him, said, "Yo'd better quit that, Marsther John. Remember what ye promised by the deathbed o' yer mother, and kapo clare o' the villyaus altogether." « Yer right, Paddy, I'll do that," replied John, " and not grieve poor Peggy, that likes the whole race so ill." Peggy had had but little time to weep for Johnny, when a message came by the post- chaise that Mammy Honey's sister, an aged and friendless woman, lay on her deathbed ; and begging that Peggy would come to her at '^<--- -.- 191 " i'i i.i ■P**"^' 122 GEMS OF THE BOO. once. Seventy miles away ! It seemed to her as far, and attended with as many dangers, as a voyage round the world would to us. But duty called ; and so the timid woman prepared to face the world, and make her way to Bal- dorgan. John and Paddy both promised her to attend faithfully to the kitchen and the dairy till her return ; and, with some misgivings as to the fate of the poultry, Peggy set off, weep- ing at the thought of leaving her " ilegant home and John," even for a few weeks. " Now, Paddy," she said, as he grasped her hand at parting, " mind I bid yo be tinder and respictful to all the cows when yo're a milkin', but partic'lar to the Maid o' Longford ; for yo know that ye'ro often impatient when she lifts her foot, and spakos in ways that hurts her feclin's." «« I'll bear that in mind, thin," said Paddy, " and good luck go with yo and bring ye spady home." For four weeks Peggy ministered to her aged fricud before she died, and thea followed R enied to hor dangers, as to us. But an prepared way to Bal- sed her to id the dairy lisgivings as et off, weep- er " ilogant seks. grasped her tinder and re a milkin', ;ford ; for yo lien she liflts it hurts her said Paddy, •ing ye spady tored to her .hea followed A ORE AT SORROW. 118 her to the grave, a solitary mounior She ahuost flew at tlie tliought of home, now that bIic was released. JSIjo could not wait twenty- four hours for the post-chaise that passed through the village where she was, but walked five hours to meet one which went sooner from the next town. All the way along the dusty road she was drawing bright pictures of her home, whicli never seemed so beautiful to her as when absent from it ; and her heart beat proudly at the thought of the Welcome await- ing her. Tlio post-chaise stopped at Cloyn- mally, and she had then a long walk to Killy- rooke, for no letter had announced hor coming. It was late in the afternoon when she opened the rude gate that led into the garden ; and, seeing Ihe cottage door open, she concluded tliat John was at home, and stopped very lightly, Ijoping to give him a joyful sur- prise. Slie was suddenly startled by what she fancied to be the hum of Mammy Honey's flax wheel! She stopped, and whispered, " Can it bo that she's come back to watch over him she loved, when I'm away ? But there's the voice I I 124 OEMS OF THE BOO. though ! Not the holy song o' heaven, Och, my heart ! my heart ! " Entering the cottage, she saw a spectacle which scut the blood from her cheek and lips back to her heart ; and, almost fainting, she sank into the nearest chair and dropped her hands helplessly at her sides. There, at " yon blissed little flax-wheel," sat Nan O'Gorman, spinning, and singing — •• The world's a bid o' rosea. With nivor ft thorn for me." Peggy only groaned ; for tlic power of utter- ance was gone. She fixed her eyes on Nau, and had not strength to remove them, much as she strove to do so. The brazen face flushed under hor gaze, and Nan said, " Don't be goin' wild, now, Peggy, because a poor abused girl has taken shelter beneath the ruff" where ye'vo had years o* plinty. Ye hadn't a home always ; and the copy-book o' the schoolmasther says, ' Turn aboot is fair play.' And don't be blamin' John, ather, for it's not by his askin' but o' my own will tj^at I'm here kapin' his house miii A GREAT SORROW. 125 o' hcavon, t!" a spectacio 3ck and lips aintiug, she J popped her -wheel," sat iug — «rer of utter- yrcs oil Nau, im, much as t 3r gaze, and now, Peggy, laken shelter lad years o* ys ; and the says, Turn be blainin' iskin' but o' u' his house and cookin' his food in ycr absiiico. Indado, ho bid mo away at the first, but ycrsclf knows rinnotcisy disposed of " — and sl>c lauglicd. " Paddy Mannon, that loves ye more nor he docs the Virgin, has refused to ate wliat I cooks, and biles his own porridge beside tlio old cow-liouse. So it's none o' his doin's, but all my own. I'll work under your hand, Peggy, and lot yo still bo the misthrcss ; but Tm to bide here; tljat's settled, and it's not in ycr power to drive me off! Are yo turned to stone, Peggy ? Yo scare me witli yer wild eyes and yer wliite face." " Nan," replied Peggy, faintly, « tho same thatch can nivor cover ye and mo ! May God forgivo ye as free as Ho pities me this day ! " She tlien rose, and witli an unsteady step passed tlu-ough the garden towards tho old cow-liouse, where she found Paddy making a peat fire on a pile of stones, to cook his supper. Wlien he saw her, he turned away his face as if ho could not meet her eyes; and bursting into tears, he sobbed out. " Ocli, och ! that ¥ I 1 ' 126 GEMS OF THE BOG. was an evil day when yc left us and quit watchin' him! The sarpint with the human face is crawlin' round ycr kitchen ; but as sure as I'm Paddy Mannon I'll give it a blow that'll send it out, if yo'll bide aisy till I docs it ! " « No, Paddy, if she do not depart this night, I will on the morrow. Why ever did God take Mammy Honey to heaven when she was so sore naded on arth ! But He's wilcome to her, for all. I'll not grudge her to Him, nor yet will I resist the rod in His ha»»d! 0, Paddy, it was well this didn't come afore I got the great light in my soul ! Himself was de- spised and rcjicted o' men, and why not me, His unworthy disciple? Himself hadn't a where to lay His head, and why should I have this lovely home ? I remembers how he drank the vinegar and gall, and I'll just drink it too, 'stead o' deraandin' the swate milk I've had so long. Dear Mr. Murray said God was fillin' my soul with Himself to prepare me for some great thing — little I dreamed o' this! If John was dead and lyin' beside the darlin' mother, what joy would fill my heart, aside o' IS and q\iit tho Imiiiau but as sure blow that'll iocs it ! " •t tliis uigl>t, 'cr did God len slio was I wilcomo to to Him, nor I ha»»d ! O, 3 aforo I got Qself was do- why not mo, If hadn't a hould I have low he drank drink it too, c I've had so )d was fiUin' me for some o' this! If 3 the darlin' eart, aside o' A GREAT SORROW. Iff losin' him this way — soul and all. But IIo opened not His mouth, and nather will I. I'll not add sin to sorrow by holding words with any aboot it ; but strive to lane my soul on God, who is the husband o' the widow — and I'm a widow, now, Paddy ! " Still Paddy sobl)ed, but managed to tell his mistress how he had abused the usurper, taunt- ing her with all the evil he had ever heard of her race, "from her great-grandfather, who was a poacher, to her uncle, who was 'mi- grated off to Australy." He told hew he, in virtue of his prophetic office as serpent-slayer, had taken Nan by the shoulder the day she came, and put her out o' doors, and got his eyes nearly scratched out in return, which con- vinced him that he could do nothing at present but " make up grimaces behind her back — which same was a relief to himself, though no harm to her." Not a tear moistened Peggy's eye, but her anguish betrayed itself in her pallid face and her hoarse, tremulous tones. Looking at the sinking sun, she said, " Paddy, I'll sit down in ffefeigwi ; ' 128 GEMS OF THE BOO. the cow-house till yer supper's done. Then go ye for the cows, for I'm homesick to see the dear craturs — thorn, without the light o' rea- son or holy tachiu', is faithful to mo still." To show his devotion, tho weeping Paddy threw his suppur violently on the ground, de- claring that ho was " not the man to ate cou- tint when the life was bein' crushed out o' his misthross!" And taking a great shilalah, which he carried to fight imaginary foes, ho set off for the pasture. Peggy remained mo- tionless, as if bound by a feariul spell, save that now and then she lifted her eyes lieavou- ward, and whispered a prayer for support and comfort. Peggy was aroused from the stupor of anguish by heavy foot-falls on the sward, as Paddy drew near with his charge. He was still weeping bitterly and telling the cows, between his sobs, that a black cloud had fallen on Daisy Farm, and that the saints were all forsakin' it and lavin' it in the hands o' a sar- pint o' a woman and a goose o' a man. " And only for ye, dear cows," he said, " Pd go too, J A GREAT SORROW. 129 0. Then go Ic to SCO tho light o' rea- 10 still." (ping Paddy ground, de- i to ato con- d out o' his lat shilalah, lary foes, ho ?inained mo- l spell, save eyes heaven- support and stupor of he sward, as go. He was ig the cows, ud had fallen ints were all lands o' a sar- i man. " And " I'd go too, and follow tlie kind misthress all over the world, and aru her bread for her. Slie's afeared to look at a stranger, but Paddy Mannon is not — nor a hundred o' 'era." Peggy rose up as the cows approached her, and throwing her arms around the neck of a silver-gray cow, tl«e " Maid o' Longford," Avhich had been Mammy Honey's last gift to her, she burst into a flood of blessed tears. She pressed )icr chock against the silvery neck and said, " Och, little ye knows, innocent thing, o' my sorrow ! I, tliat has fed ye so free, has notliing to ato myself! I, that has loved ye so tinderly, has not a one in all the world to lovo mo ! Ye don't know that ye are no longer mine — that ye'll see me no more, nor hear my soft voice that niver give yo a hasty word, — Oclj, my poor heart ! "' " Will ye tak' a stool and milk her ? " asked Paddy. " No, Paddy, there's nather power in my hand nor yet in my heart for that," Peggy re[tlied ; *' but I'll look at ye doin' it, and say what I'd like while we're alone. Ye have iver 130 OEMS OF THE BOO. been a faithful boy to rao, and nivor onco garo mo an omispictful word. I'd wish to thank ye for all yor love in tho past. Yo'ro the only friend I have now, Paddy, that I can spake to. Ycr niasthor promised God and his mother that he'd stand 'twixt mc and throublc while he had life in him. But now it is himself that's put a Bpear in my heart ! Peggy Shoohan's not tho woman to 'bide in a house and quarrel ; and iiathor is she the one to stand silent and sec her husband's heart stole from hor and his honor destroyed ontircly ! Ye can do mo one more service, Paddy dear," — she had never addressed him thus before — " and may be it'll be tho last yer poor friend will over ask." " And what's that, misthress, darlin' Y I hope it's to murther Nan, and then fly off to Ameriky or some other pagan country ! " " No, Paddy ; do her no evil ; lave hor with God," answered Peggy. " Pd wish ye to be at tho gate to-morrow morning afore the sun peeps over tho bog, to meet mo. And mind, yo're nivor to spake my name to himself till tli" day comes when his heart is broke for his sins ""Uti ftM A GREAT SORROW. 131 r onco garo to thank ye ro the only n spake to. mother that trhilo ho had that's put a m's not tiio uarrel ; and 3nt and see lior and his [1 do mo one 5 had never may bo it'll )r ask." ilin' 'i I hope F to A me r iky TO her with sh ye to be fore the sun And mind, rnself till tlm ) for hiH sins agin God and his poor lovin' wife. Mind what I say, Paddy, my name is a forbidden word ! I'd wish ye to do ycr duty to yer raasther and to the craturs ; but it'll bo a great comfort to me if yo'll still 'bide in the cow-house and not countenance yon cruel woman when I'm gone." " I'll starvre first ! But where are ye goin' ? Ye've not a friend or a kin left that ye can make free with, now that the old Doaues is dead," replied Paddy. " I have health yet, and can toil even with a broken heart, Paddy. I'll seek a sarvico place, for I could niver live where John war not honored and rispected. And now I must gather heart to go into tho cottage, for I must turn keys on a few things not to be touched by on- holy hands.'' " Keys ! " cried Paddy, scorn''ully. " What's thim good for when the likes o' her's about? Didn't she wear Mammy Honey's best shawl to Ned Givin's wake the last week ? And hasn't tho old mother the duffel gray cloak over there now ! " *. Poggy throw up her hands and uttered a r ilH t i^ 132 OEMS OF THE BOG. sharp cry; then clasping thcin tightly over her heart she said imploringly, " Please, dear man, tell me no more, or I'll be driven wild and lose my hold on God! It's all over with my happiness in this world ; but I'm a small cretur' to be thinkin' of, when John's Boul is at stake, and all KiUyrooko setting tliis great sin down agin our blissed religion and stumbling over it ! " Poggy rose to go into the cottage. As she turned the corner of the cow-house, she saw John standing there as if waiting for her. She did not raise her eyes ; but ho joined her, and after a moment's silence said, » Ye're welcome home, Peggy." Still she did not speak, but her deathly countenance betrayed, the struggle going on within. " Jewel," ho said, after a great effort, " this is none o' my doin's. She came into the cottage the day after ye left, for shelter from the abuse o' her mother. And once hero, she took all into her hands ! She would nathor go for my beggin' nor yet for Paddy's abuse ; but now ye are come back to us as are the mistliress, ^IL, A QUE AT SORPOVr. lU tightly over Please, dear driven wild t's all over ; but I'm a rlieu John's I setting tltis religion and ago. As sho use, sho saw [qv her. Slio ned her, and e'ro welcome hor deathly glo going on \ great effort, jamo into tho shelter from nee hero, she iild nathor go r's abuse ; but tho niisthress, ye can send her off yerself. Ye know, Peggy, Pm a great sheep, and could never spake a rough word to a woman — though she were an evil one." Peggy found breath to say, " No, John, I shall never bid her away ! My neighbors shall not see mo doing what my husband should do, and then taunt mo with it ! And more nor tliat, I doubt if even ye can drive her out now. She tolls me ye have promised her a home, wliinever sho wills to 'bide here ! And the same thatch couldn't cover us two ! O, John, John, why did Mammy Honey lay that fearful cliurge on me, when she' said, ' Bring him to mo at last ; I'll expect tliat of ye, Peggy.' " And saying this, sho closed her eyes and passed through the kitclicn, whore Nan was singing as sho spread the simple board for sup- per, into her mother's little room, and drew tho wooden bolt behind hor. Sho threw herself into tho rude oaken chair, laid hor cheek on tho pillow, and gave way to a flood of tears, mingled with pruyOiS to Heaven for strength. Her plaintive tones, echoing through tho low f 134 GEMS OF Tim BOO. rooms of tho cottage, were enough to melt a heart of stone.- John followed her to tho door ; hut he was too great a coward, — sin makes even the bravest men cowards, — to ask her pardon, and thrust the intruder forth. Ho stood there weeping ; and when called, ho refused to eat his supper. He spoke harshly to Nan, asking her if she were not ashamed to turn a pure-hearted wife out of her own house. But she only laughed in his face, and replied that she was quite willingto allow Peggy back, and had even offeref* to let her be mistress still ! All night John sat in the kitchen or walked tho floor, listening to the sobs and prayers of his wife, planning reforms to begin with tho light, and promising to atone with redoubled kindness for his faithlessness and cruelty. Alas, poor, irresolute man ! Ho did not take into account his own weakness, nor the strength of the foe ; nor yet was ho prepared for tho courage with which Christian principle and womanly pride had armed tho timid creature he bad so deeply wronged. ^ I to melt a ; but he was s even the pardon, and stood there cd to cat his I, asking her pure-licarted fc she only lat she was nd had even n or walked i prayers of ;iu with the ;h redoubled md cruelty, lid not take the strength tared for the rinciple and aid creature CHAPTER XII. HOMELESS. AT break of day Peggy looked out of the little glass window, — the pride of the cottage, — and saw Paddy leaning against the gate, awaiting her. She waved her handker- chief to him, and he approached her with swollen eyes, whicli tol how little ho had slept and how much he had wept. She passed to him her little blue box or trunk, the only thing she had brought with her to her new homo when a bride. It now contained the few articles of clothing she had bought with her own spinning-money; for she shrank from taking any tiling given her by John, now that he had suffered the serpent with a human face to " put a space between their two hearts." This done, the meek creature passed through the kitchen, — where John still sat 135 136 GEMS OF THE BOO. II sleeping, — without stirring tlio air. SIio dared not look at him, lest her strength might fail her. Before she joined Paddy at the gate, she went round to the glass window and plucked a sprig of the sweet brier tliat overhung it. This she pressed for a moment to her lips, and then laid it in the folds of a fresh handker- chief and hid it in her bosom like a " charm." As Peggy looked at her poor friend, an in- voluntary smile passed over her pale face. IIo had dressed himself in Daddy Slioehan's clothes, to honor the occasion, and was almost buried in them. " Dear man,' she exclaimed, " why do ye make such a figure o' yersilf when I cannot laugh as I once did at ye ! I've told yo a score o' times to take you clotlies to Jock, the tailor, and have them made to fit ye. Yo look like a harlequin ! " And sj he did ; for tlie tails of the blue coat barely cleared the ground, and the pockets behind, graced with huge brass buttons, woro a foot and a half below their proper place. The breeches were pushed up in grout lieavy HOMELESS. 137 air. SIio iiigth might le gate, she d plucked a vcrhung it. jcr lips, and ih haudlcer- a " charm." 'lend, an in- face. IIo Shochan's was almost 1 exclaimed, e o' yersilf did at ye ! take you have them larlequiu ! " le blue coat the pockets iittons, wore roper place, groat liouvy folds to make them short enough to hackle at the knee, and the sleeves were rolled half way to the elbow. " Why don't ye do my biddin* about the clothes ? " she repeated. " Because it would be a great refiiction on the old masther ; the same as sayiu' he didn't have them made right at first! And more; if they fitted me, people would only say, * See Paddy Mannon's new shute ! ' , and never think o' the honor that was haped on me by gittin' them willed to me. Now they say, ' See Paddy Mannon in the fine ould masther's Sunday shute. How yon family honors that lad ! ' 'Dade I'll just wear them as they is, for his sake and my own," answered Paddy. Paddy shouldered the blue box, remarking, " It's a dale lighter than it war the day yo came first to us, and I lifted it out o' the new donkey-cart." " Yes, poor man," replied Peggy, " I'm like Naomi o' old ; I came in here full o' pros- perity and blissed with hapes o' love, but I go forth empty of arthly good ! But I'm rich for all this, Paddy ! I feel just now as I did tho 138 GEifS OF THE BOO. il % V day I gave Mammy Honey and every thing else up for Christ's sake ! The great peace lias come on me again with new power. I can not only give vip mother, and house, and land, but even him that's dearer nor all, at the Master's biddin'. And I'm quite contint in belaviu' that the Judge o' the whole arth will do right, though one poor heart mar break by the way lie does it." "Well, misthress, darlin',*' sobbed Paddy, " I'm glad yer not ravin' wild with the throu- ble, but I'd be better plazed if ye'd show a little more sperit ! Spcrit is a fine thing in f* woman. I'd hoped that ye'd bo roused up a little afore ye left, so that ye'd break the look- Mi' glass, and the windy, and the red and white dishes, and burn up the linen that them blissed hands spun and wove, afore she'd eor joy thim." "No, Paddy, there's no revinge in my heart; but only sorrow and shame for the masther; and for Nan — well, Heaven pity her, and bring her to repmtanco aforo death cornea." HOMELESS. 139 every thing great peace )wer. I can se, and land, all, at the ) contiut in ole artli will aar break by ibbed Paddy, \\ the throu- ye'd show a ne thing in ft roused up a eak the look- the red and en that them fore she'd en- einge in my lame for tlie Heaven pity 9 aforo death " What ! and so she bo let into heaven ? " exclaimed Paddy. " I'll not put a foot into it myself if she's there ! 'Dade Pll not ! I thinks too much o' myself to be in ony place where she'll be ! " Peggy had no time now for either instruc- tion or controversy, for she was in haste to reach Cloynmally, where a wagoner stopped on his way to the distant city. She chose to ride on the high seat with him, rather than in tlie post-chaise, where she would have to look strangers in the face, and hear conversation which might distract her mind. As they came up to the little Presbyterian church and burying-ground, Peggy said, " Yo sit down on the roadside till I pluck a sham- rock blossom off the grave, and thank God that He tuk her to Himself from the evil to come. 0, Paddy, liow lovely the grave looks ! And, dear man, I'll trust ye to bring me back and lay me beside her if I dies away." " I'll do that same, even if ye'd 'migrate to Ameriky, and I'd have to wade the Atlantic 140 GE3rS OF THE BOO. ocean and bring yo back in my arms — I'd do it — wonld I ! But wherc'll I ever find ye ?" "Paddy, a lady tiiat Mammy Honey's old sister nursed when a baby, came to see her, and to bring the pension the family 'lowed her, when I was there. They always looked after her and loved her, though they had removed far away. The lady was that thankful for my tinderness that she asked rao would I go to the great city with her and mind her fable ould mother ? I told her I had no nado o' sarvice, but was the richest, and proudest, and hap- piest wife in our town. Slie'd bo to make me take a guinea as a keepsake, 1 that, with throe Mammy Honey gave i ven years agono to keep agin a rainy day, is what I has for my journey now. This lady. Miss Grey, said, at partin', ' Well, Misthress Sheehan, I'm glad yc're so comfortable ; but none knows what's afore 'em in life. If yo should iver nadc a friend, come to me.' And she gave me a bit o' card with her name on't, and it's to her I'm goin'." tjium ^ nOMELESS. 141 irms — I'd do or find ye ? " Honey's old to see her, ly 'lowed her, ; looked after had removed ankful for my Id I go to the icr fable ould do o' sarvice, est, and hap- c to make me 1 that, with Ten years is what I has r, Miss Grey, Slieelian, I'm none knows e should iver knd she gave 5 on't, and it's " Give mo the name o' her place ; and after the next harvest I'll call and find ye out, and 8|)ind a week with ye. May bo there might be a horse-race or a 'fair' aboot tliat time; and if so, I'll kill two birds with one stone," ex- claimed Paddy, with animation. Peggy could not help smiling at such folly. " I'm to be a sarvant there, Paddy, and will have nather room nor wilcome for guests. I'll tell ye where Miss Grey is, if ye nade mo ; but mind, it's to be buried in yer own heart ; for I'd not wish another one to know where I be." " Nor will they, ather. Hasn't yo sint word to Mr. Murray ? " asked Paddy. " IIow could I revale to him the disgrace o' this son o' the righteous ? If he asks for me, make my respicts to him, and tell him the peace o' God, that he'd so. often implored on tis all, was 'bidin' on me when I loft home," said Peggy. " He came to the cottage when you were gone, to inquire into the evil reports he'd heerd-; but the coward o' a man saw him, and run off into the farthest barley-field, and l^ "■•'&' 142 0SM8 OF THE BOO. wasn't to be found ; and so did Father Clakey come to the gate. Nan went to the dc)or and dropt a low curshey, and asked, ' Will yer riv- erence come in ? ' ""Deed I will not, ye brazen-faced maid,' says he. • I'll not put my consecrated feet into a house where ye are like a thafo and a robber ! Go off to sarvice and am yer honest bread, afore ye break a kind woman's heart. I'm to rade ye out o' tlio church next day ; and I've sore work to keep my cane ofiF yer shoulders ! ' So himself doesn't countonanco her no more nor Mr. Murray," said Paddy. " No ; he's a dacent oold man, and does us well as he knows, may be," re;^lied Peggy. " Now mind, I've trusted the powltry and the craturs all with ye, and be faithful, and spoke soft to thim. But, Oh me, there'll be no prayei in the cottage! Ye and Nan may mumble over yer beads; but Jolm will not dare to pray, sore as he nadc? marcy. I'd bid ye lave, were it not that John has a soul. Ye watch for tlie first sigh o' penitence, and manewhiles I'll pray day and niglit that God will take hia Father Clakey the dc)or and ' Will ycr riv- jn-faced maid,' crated feet into a thafe and a am yer honest woman's heart, irch next day ; ly cane ofiF ycr .'t countonanco said Paddy, in, and does us rc;^lied Peggy, powltry and the hful, and spoke p'll be no prayei 1 may mumble ill not dare to I'd bid ye lave, (ul. Ye watch and manewhiles )d will take hia ■^;; -f- [ IPT" If I n /Tft^MbWk^' peoot's ooou-dyk to paddy. nOMELESS. 143 -Jf^-' ■[ ffict out o' the net afore he die ; and if so bo, who knows but He'll let mo bring him safe to hor at last, as kIio bid me." " There's poor tokens on't," replied Paddy. " But what a lovin' father God is, that Ho tuk little Johnny to Himself afore this," said Peggy. " So Ho is, too," answered Paddy ; " but I hears the great, lumberiu' whales o' the carrier." The wagon now rolled heavily up the road, and was stopped in answer to the call of Paddy, who reached up the blue box to tho driver. Giving Peggy his hand to assist her to a scat beside him, tho man said, " Yor for an carl^ start, good wife;" and then looked in amazement at her, as, leaning down from hor porch, she grasped the rough hand ol her poor friend, and exclaimed, " May the Lord x-eward ye for yer love and pity to mo with the salva- tion o' yor soul, dear man. God in heaven bliss ye, Paddy Mannon ! " ■:^ia|i?|B«fK3^,.- ^ ii w 144 OEMS OF TEE BOO. " Am I takiii' a body to the ' Lunatics ' ? " asked tlio wagoner. " 'Dade yc'io not, but to a fine lady's houao, as a nurse, my man ! But she's a dale throu- bled about laving her ilegant homo. So do yo be tinder o' her, or I'll take ycr life next day," said Paddy. The man rolled out a rough oath, and laid the lash heartily on the backs of his heavily- laden horses. «* Dear man," cried Peggy, " don't give an onnadeful pang to any tiling God has made. We and the dumb craturs is all His work, and all sufferers, too, under the hand o' man. Be marciful to thim as Ho is marciful to us." And they drove off, leaving Paddy wailing and sobbing on the roadside. [iunatics ' ? " lady's lioufit), I dale ihrou- 0. So do yo next day," itli, and laid his heavily- lon't give an )d has made. II His work, and o' man. rciful to us." uddy wailing u CHAPTER Xin. SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. IT'S heavy whaling the day, misthress," said the wagoner, by way of opening a conversation with his passenger ; " and I fear we'll not see Baldargie, where I halts for the night, till the moon be riz." Turning to receive an answer, he saw Peggy wiping the tears from her pale cheek, and his kind heart was touched. "You've lost ycr sarvice place, poor thing ! " he said ; '« but I'm just sure by yer looks it was no fault o' yer own ; ye must keep up heart, for all will turn out for the best in the end. There's a better place waitin' yo nor the one ye've lost, and a kinder and feeliner misthress. I've lived more years by a dozen than ye, and my experience is, that there's a sartain amount o' luck for each one U5 10 ,,.;(,.;.;■.;>;!-■«■ -^bK;:- 146 GEMS OF THE BOO. o' US. Some gets it all in a liape and has hard faro afterward; and some Rcts it sprinkled along throngh life. The last's been my lot. I've had hard work froaa a lad • up, till my back's been nigh broke at times ; but when I took a wife, then came luck to my door, for I got one that made the most o' the little I arued, and always met mo with a smile, whether my hand -vvas empty or full. By-and-by more luck come in the shape o' little folk; they came faster than the bread did, but they never lacked. If any went hungry, it was Molly and mo. In them days I saw nobody I envied ; but agin, our luck turned two ways at once. I got this team o' horses to drive, and fine pay. But when bread was plenty, the mouths grew scarce. The little darlin's dropped oflf, one followin' the other, till we counted four graves in the churchyard. Now we're alone, and sorrowful enough too. But as we've had a share o' good luck, we mustn't grumble. Your luck will turn with this journey, take my word for it! Why, dry yer eyes there; don't yor SOWmO BY THE WAYSIDE. 147 ipo and lias le gets it last's beoii a a lad -up, 1 times; but luck to ray most o' the mo with a ipty oi* full, the shape o' 111 the bread [f any went •\ them days in, our luck this team o' t when bread scarce. The foUowin' tho avea in the md sorrowful d a share o' , Your luck ,ke my word ro; don't yor know its luck to ride with Barney's horses ? and if yer purse is low, my good girl, it will niver be a farthing lower for me. I'll give ye the ride and wilcome and say a good word for ye at tho cud o' the journey, where I puts up these seven year." " Yor too kind, friend," replied Peggy. *' If I was nady I'd accept yer offer as if yo was my brother ; but I've several guineas o' money, and a place to go into when I arrive in the great town." " Tlien I can't see what on arth makes ye cry. If yer a maid, yo cannot have buried husband or child," said the wagoner kindly. " Ah, sir, I've lost botli. I first buried tho swatest mother God iver gave a poor girl, and tlicn a dear Iambic o' a boy that I tuk mother- leas to my bussum. But them was small loss, because it was so asy to see God's hand in their goin'. I've lost the other now, but not in tho grave. Yer too kind to ask me more. Listen patient now, while I tell ye the idee I has about luck. I calls it ' Providence,' and vrhether it comes in sunshine or in black 148 GEMS OF THE BOG. cloud, I sees God's face in it. I can say, with you holy David, 'Goodness and marcy have followed inc all the days o' my life,' for when God tuk all the others from me. Ho left Him- self. And, dear man, nobody can be poor or desolate as has Him in his soul, — Him that sticketh closer nor a brother. When I was livin' at my ase, Him that sees the end from the beginning was preparin' a table afore me in presence o' my inimies. And He it was that led ye, too, through both bog and pastur', that ye might see His hand and come and taste o' His love. He gave yer wife and babies m marcy, and Ho tuk the Iambics in the same marcy, to draw tho parents' heart after them. Don't, then, call yer joys and throubles ' luck,' like a hatl.en, but call them the dalins' o' God with ye." " Why, my good woman, ye're a Mothodis, sure. I nivor heerd the like talk from another but thim ! " cried the wagoner, looking in sur- prise at Peggy. f " I never seed a one o' them," she replied, " though I've heerd tell o' the Wesleys, and 4Jjk !an say, with marcy have fe,' for whoa Ic left Him- i be poor or — Him that When I sees the eud a table afore [id He it was and pastur', >mc and taste nd babies in in the same t after them. mbles ' luck,' lalins' o' God a Mothodis, from another okiug in sur- ' she replied, Wosleys, and SOWING BY THE WAYSIDE. 149 knows a lovely hymn that one o' them writ about Jesus." And thus Peggy beguiled the way, talking in a manner almost miraculous for her, and leading tlie mind of her rough companion up to God. Before niglit fell she had heard liis history and given him hers, — all save the one sore point on which he was too delicate to question her. She had heard of the few praying Methodists in his native town, who, he said, " wore parsecutin' every body to be convarted like themselves, and goin' on as if religion was the importantist thing in tlio world. They had won little Billy over to their school, and Jerry too, afore they died, and had filled up their small heads with varses and hymns that came out in their dyin' breath ; and now they are tarned to parsecutin' me and my wife the same way, and she's a' most one o' 'em, — goin' to their prayers, and their sing- ings, and the like. But I never tuk much to thim things ; all the religion iver I had," he added, "was hathrod o' the Catholics,' and holdin' up my head with pride that I warn't 150 GEMS OF TUE BOO. born among thorn. Why, good woman, thim Methodises bclave that Papists may all be turned yet ; and they prays and prays for that, but they can't know the power o' the Pope and the priests." " Dear man, thim poor craturs, whoso brith is in their nostrils, is no more in God's hand nor the stubble afore the fire, and it's as asy for Him to bring the Pope off his throne into the dust, where he'll plade for mercy, as it would be to soften yer kind heart and bow it to His will," said Peggy. Then she told him of Mammy Honey's dy- ing prayers, and of her faith for poor Ireland ; and while on this theme, the wagon rolled up heavily into the paved yard of the " O'Con- nor's Arms Inn," where they were to rest for the night. Another day's ride brought them to the city whither they were bound. The wagoner re- fused to give the little blue box and its owner into any stranger's care. After attending to the animals, which he digniaed by the name of "harses," but which bore a remarkable SOWING BY TUB WAYSIDE. 151 roman, thim may all be ays for that, Ijc Pope and whoso brlth God's hand 1 it's as asy throne into mercy, as it t and bow it ' Honey's dy- poor Ireland ; ;on rolled up the "O'Con- '0 to rest for m to the city I wagoner re- nd its owner attending to by the name a remarkable resemblance to the mule family, he shouldered the box, and, followed by Peggy, made his way to Bcrkely Terrace, with Miss Grey's card ia his band. Wlicn they reached the door and Peggy re.i he makes belave that ey, and the irhat's goin' tantalizing :e him, lest > go off on " tlio travels" ho was constantly holding up as a tliioat, and tlie poor, erring man felt that there he would not liave a mortal to speak to. Just before Puddy wont, at Mr, Murray's re* quest, to carry a letter of comfort to his mis- tress, he took occasion to irritate his master beyond endurance ; and when rebuked for his insolence, he packed up his all in bundles, which he hung on pegs in the cow-house, donned "the ould masther's Sunday shute," sliouldered his oaken staflf, and set off appar- ently in high dudgeon. When at the end of a week " he came back for his bundles," John wont to the cow-house and implored him not to foisake him. By some cunning on Paddy's part, and an offer of higher wages on John's, tiic matter was adjusted ; and thenceforth the master took good care not to give farther occa- sion for a separation, fully believing that Paddy had been off to look for a new plaoe. : ■ Mlrfii CHAPTER XV. ' ON THE MOUNT. THERE is a high point in the Christian's upward journey wlience he may look down on all helow as on the playthings of childhood, or the vain pleasures of youth. Even the things which belong to himself lose their size and their importance in the distance, and fade into nothingness, in comparison with the calm glories by which ho is surrounded on the mount. The home that once ho called his own, but from which misfortunes have driven him, no longer seems the one only spot where he can live or die. Whether it be palace or cottage, it sinks into insignificance beside the home of " many mansions," with a glimpse of which he has been favored. The treasures of gold, or merchandise, or harvest, all grow poor in the eyes of him who has the earnest of 163 ON rUE MOUNT. 163 Christian's jT loolc down F childhood, Even the 80 tlicir size ce, and fade ith the calm ded on the 3 called his liave driven y spot where bo palace or 30 beside the a glimpse of ho treasures est, all grow ho earnest of heaven and its eternal wealth already in his soul. Sorrows, as well as joys, are regarded with other eyes than of yore. The grave wliero the beloved were hidden when torn from the bleeding heart, is now only a peaceful bed ; and the dear sleepers are not dead, but living and loving still. • " Hope then lifts her radiant finger, •■ Pointing to the eternal home, ' On whose portals they yet linger. Looking back for us to come." Even the erring among his heart's dear treasures, — those who have wandered far from God, and for whose salvation he would lay down his life, — their case seems not so utterly hopeless when seen from this hight, as when he walked on the low ground beside them. As he learns more of God's power, he sees also the weakness of Satan's chaiii. As he learns more ni His holiness and mercy, he casts away his fears, and trusts the wanderers with Him. Even if their sun may seem to set in darkness, he still sees " light in His light," 1G4 GEMS OF THE BOO. atid bows to Hla will, sure that the Judge of the whole earth will do right. That there is such a hight as this in Chris- tian experience, we know from the testimony of those, few though they bo, who have reached it, and who move among us still, while they live on the verge of heaven and breathe its peaceful air. To this summit our humble heroine rose on that night when, after a fearful struggle, she p'tve up her mother to God, and kissed the rod wl ch had so sorely smitten her. And 'lUhougii at times dark clouds had gathered around and obscured the light for a little season, she had never descended again to the dark valley where before ^^ho had walked and stumbled like a weak and timid child. The littleness of earth and the greatness of all beyond were so deeply impressed on her mind, that life thenceforth became to her of vast value. Every moment was consecrated to use- ful toil, and in this blessed actvity she forgot, iu a measure, her own sorrows. Love to ON TUB MOUNT. 165 Judge of i in Chris- testimony who have T us still, leaven and sroine rose 1 struggle, kissed the her. And i gathered or a little lain to the (Talked and ihild. The iiesa of all I her mind, or of vast ated to use- she forgot, I. Love to others, and earnest efibrts to carry that lovo out into action, fn ■ sovereign balms for the wounded spirit. Peggy possessed that rare faculty of lighten- ing every body's burdens while seeming to do but little. Witiiout any bustle or stir shu liad become sole nurse for the poor failing mother of Miss Grey. The servants were not slow to see how their own toil wao lessened ; and so, from selQsh motives if from no other, they trea*x3d her with that respect which they hoped would keep her long there. Miss Grey had at first spoken of her in the house as a connection of her old nurse, whoso presence would be a great com- fort to them all, and had bidden the servants to addross her as " Misthrcss Sheehan;" and they were always civil to one for whom their mistress manifested so much regard, and who was such a comfort to her in her own weuk- uess and trouble. Miss Grey was herself one of the pure ia heart, but she was encompassed with trials, and was the subject of nervous depression tmimtmmMit :) f k' 166 OEMS OF THE BOO. which at tunes cast shadows over her mind, and left licr to grope in tl»c darkness and to write bitter tilings against licrself. Ilcr earlier life had hccn one of health and of activity in all tliat was good ; but the confine- ment of years in a sick room had broken down both health and spirits, and had forced iicr . relinquish every work but that of giving. And now, forgetting the groat labor and sacri- fice she had been making at home, she looked upon herself as an idler in the vineyard, a curaberer of the ground. When qnict and order were restored to the house after the death of Mrs. Grey, Peggy thought her work was done in Berkeley Ter- race. One day, after many thanks to Miss Grey for her kindness, she opened the subject of a new place, saying, " And now, dear lady, as I'll be but an idler here, I've thought well to look about me for work. But I'd like it to be work that would call for not only strong arms, but a lovin' heart and hapes o' patience. If I could go into some hospital or 'syliim, where old people war to be humored like icr mind, iss and to elf. Ilcr h and of c confinc- keu down jcd l>ci' . of giving, and sacri- jlic looked incyard, a red to the ey, Peggy kcley Ter- :s to Miss ho subject dear lady, ought well 1 like it to nly strong •' patience, or 'syliim, aored like ON THE MOUNT. 167 childcr, or where little ones war to bo tinded and rarcd up, I'd like it well. My heart's that full o' desire for work, that I bo draining o' nights that I'm gathcrin' flocks o' littlo childcr in my arms and coverin' 'em up with my shawl from the wind and the storm. I'd be glad to make sunssliine in .some place like o' them, and so, may bo, I might lade some wan- derer, great or small, to the heaven that seema just at my hand. Dear lady, it is so near my sperit, that when 1 shuts my eyes I feels that I'm in it a'ready ! " " Well, Misthross Sheehan," replied Miss Grey, •' I have an hospital and an asylum all ready for vou. I'm ' patient ' enough to begin with. I need all your care and skill for tho present; and when my health is improved so that I can return to my old labors, we will look after my poor peoytlo and friendless little children. I am not asking you to remain hero for your sake, but for m'i»';. ('. you leave me, I must have soire o iu j.onr L\ce ; and who can bo such a nurse lor botii I • dy and mind ? I shall call you 't- fi , jd n)tl )mpanion, and ^liiiWilMiiliiliiH M(ii i> ii i < i ' i i i officers, and nail children 10U80. They ;ht, not long all traces of • been stoutly i Peggy was ried' to John, eras now the But the most t aloof from I ordered her AN A WAKENED CONSCIENCE. 179 out of the church. This caused her great un- easiness, p,s she feared she might die without absolution, and be denied a Christian burial. She tried to buy the old man's favor with gifts of butter and eggs, but he was inexorable, aiid sent them back to her with many bitter reproofs. Paddy had well nigh lost heart ; he had car- tainly lost all patience. His "grimaces" at the object of his hatred; his faithfulness - John called it « insolence » — to his master; and his prayers to the Virgin had all failed to right matters at the cottage. One day, Imving been reproved for careless- ness in trimming a hedge, he turned upon John, saying, "Don't ye be rebukin' mo for an onfaithful sarvant! I'm honest and vprigbf andean look every man in Ireland sq a.-, iu the eye, and that's more nor my mastht ' jan do ! My sperit's fearful roused, and I warn yo it's dangerous triflin' with an angered lion! Some day ye'U find ather yersilf murdered, or poor Paddy drownded in the lough. So ye'U add murder to yer other sins." 180 OEMS OF THE BOO. John groaned, and walked away a few steps, Tlicn lie turned back, and said, " Ocli, Faddy, Paddy, if yo but know the anguish o' my heart yedpitynio place o' 'tortumv' mo thus! If yo, or Mr. Murray, or any other one hinks I'm at aso, ye'rc sore mistaken. I'd lay down my life this hour to mako my peace with God and poor dear " " Hi, there ! " cried Paddy, « don't let mo hear that name. Why don't ye lay down yer life, then, or do somethin' elso ? " " What shall I do ? " exclaimed John. " Say ycr prayers," replied Paddy. "Paddy, I can't pray. When I tries to spake to God, that poor white faco, wet with patient tears, comes ntween me and heaven," replied John. " 0' course it docs ! " cried the poor fellow. " Did yo think God would hear yo and sind yo pace till yo first mako a turn o' things at tho cottage ? That would bo like a poacher askin' pardon o' tho gintleman at tho Hall, at tho same time he was loadiu' his guu to shoot more door." a few steps, Och, Faddy, o' my heart thus! If ! hiiiks I'm Y down my th God and >n't let mo ' down yer ohn. I tries to ), wet with heavon," )or follow, nd sind yo ngs at tho her askin' ill, at tho to shoot ^^ AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 181 John leaned against the stile where Paddy was Sitting, pipe in mou.h, taking his evening rest; and tho tears ran down his cheeks " I wush I'd never been born! "he cried. I Jish yo hadn't," answered his reprover. I drnmed last night that yo drove off tho «arpn,t, and that then tho black cloud rolled away and tho sun shone aboovo us all, and that Mammy Honey came back to 'bido with us,and to watch us thatwo'd never fall into 8111 more," said John, mournfully. " 1^"«I» •' " cried Paddy, scornfully. » A man more nor six feet high, weighln' two hundred pound, might behave himself civil without his bl-cd mother lavin' heaven, where she's so comfortable, to come and look after him ! But '" gl^d to see yor heart getti.i' a bit soft avcn at this late day, and if it hadn't been -do ofli.. it would ha' melted long ago Think o' tho holy tachin'o' yer mother, and tiic hue cxami>Ie o' mrjsclf." "What Shan I do?" cried John again, in his anguish and indecision. " ^"^ ^° rcmcmbor tho old fablo o' the rat % I I! r... 182 GEMS OP THE BOO. tliat was caught in a trap ? She ate her own head off rather than give the waitin' cat the satisfaction o' doin' it . Now if ye can think o' no better way o' escape, jump into the longh and drown ycrsclf," remarked Paddy, com- pose lly. " But I have a soul, man ! " cried John. " Och, have ye ? I tliought ye hadn't," was the reply. "Sure, it's a strange soul for a Christian, ony way." " I'm not a Christian and niver was, Paddy." " Indade ! Are ye a hathen, then '! " The simple man knew of no middle ground between the two conditions. " Not just quite a hathen," replied his mas- ter, f " What are ye, then ? " " I'm a great sinner, Paddy." " Ye niver spoke a truer word, masther, and yet I can't just comprehend how ye were niver a Christian in yer best days ' " . "No, never, in heart, like them two wo loved, and heaps like them in Cloynmally. " I'd give all I have in the world, Paddy, to •f... AN A WAKENED CONSCIENCE. 183 ate her ovrn tin' cut the can think o the lough addy, coin- John. adn't," was soul for a IS, Paddy." n?" The ud between 3d his mas- isther, and were niver a two we nally. , Paddy, to hoar Mr. Murray's voice again in the church, and to got a kind word from his lips," said John, niournfally. " Well, tho church door is open and his tongue is not palsied yit, I belave," replied Paddy. » But if ye'd lilce a sarmon from one that's nathcr priest nor parson, yc'U get it by goin' to the lough on Sunday next. There's a fine young jintlcman stoppin' at Mr. Mur- ray's, tliat has a mind to spake on religion to thim as niver goes to that church; and he's given word that as the young men gathers by the water to fish and to skip stones and the lilio, that he'll bo there among thim. lie's been at games witli the Cloynmally boys tho week gone, pitchin' quoits ; and tliey say he's a fine hand at a game." " We'll go to hear him, Paddy," said John, " and raay bo he'll put a bit o' strength into me. *' lie ? Ye could take him up in one hand and hould him out at arm's lingth ! " cried Paddy. 184 OEMS OF TBE BOO. "Och, but he may havo a bigger and stronger heart nor I," said John. " Very like ho has, or it's a poor one," re- turned the reprover, in language more faithful tlian delicate. " Paddy, lad, why can ye not show me some marcy ? " cried John. "Because the Protestant Bible taches to show marcy to tiio marciful only. And on thim grounds what right have yo to ask or ix- pect tinder regards from a vartuous and onera- ble man like mesilf ! " • " Yer mistaken, Paddy. It says, ' Blissed are tlie marciful, for they shall obtain marcy ; ' but it does not say others shall not find it. The world is full o' proofs o' God's pity and marcy to many that's gone astliray from him. But none ever got so far wrong as mesilf, after such lovely trainin' from the cradle up ; " said John. "Will, thin, I'm not as larned as Mr. Murray, to instruct nor yet to condimn yo ; so I'll kape yo waitin' for consolation till yo sees igger and r one," re- ro faithful J me some taclies to And on ask or ix- nd onera- AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 185 this new-como jintleman ; I thin will fall on him with puzzlin' questions on religiou, and see what he's made on ! If there's ony pluck in liim to stand his ground agin my church, as if he knew the difference in the two, we'll trust him with yer case, — though it's a Bhamcful and disgraceful and onrispictable one to intertain company with ! We'll bo first at the lough, masther, on Sunday, waitiu' Lim there." * Blissed marcy ; ' t find it. pity and om him. iilf, after >;" said as Mr. 1 yo ; so ye sees !i 111 CHAPTER XVII. LAT-PBEACHING AT THE LOCOH. ON the following Sunday afternoon a crowd gathered around the lough, the usual rallyhig-place when mass and dinner were over. Tlicy had been warned against listening to heresy; but curiosity was stronger than fear. Some came to hear about games in England; some to louic at the strange gentle- man ; and others to watch for heresy and put a stop to its utterance. John and Paddy were there among the rest. Presently there was a stir; and those who were fishing drew in their lines and wound them up. All pressed towards a grassy bank overhung by four old willows; for there the Murray boys appeared with their guest, a "boyish jintlcman " of twenty-one or two, with a very slender frame, and a face as fair and delicate as a girl's. lie 186 )n a crowd the usual riner were it listening nger than games in ge gciitle- and put a addy were ere was a w in thrir 1 pressed ^ four old appeared man ler frame, irl's. Ho LAT-PREACniNO AT THE LOUQH. 187 I'cld a book in his hand, the sight of which caused alarm at once. " Now, boys," muttered an old man, " it's just as yo war warned ! He's one o' thim artful Methodises— a Bible reader — a fearful, dangerous fellow ! " The words caught the young man's car, but not letting that bo known, he said, « Good-day, friends. What a beautiful place you have' here for rest and exercise! I never saw a lovelier sheet of water than this, nor a moro beautiful playground ; and as I've been great at games, I've looked well to the grounds. I heard at Cloynmally that you always met hero on Sunday, and so I've come to see you, and talk a little to you about things ihat we all be- lieve. I'm no minister, and can't preach. I'm only going to talk; and you have as good a right to talk here as I have. So any of you may speak out and ask questions, or contradict me, if I say what's not right." " What book's yon in your hand ? " asked the old schoolmaster, who had better been I'l i 188 GSMS OF THE BOQ. Styled « tl.0 village child's-nursc," as his ten pupils were too young to learn from books. " Tins book, friend, is the Douay version of tl.o I]iblo, prepared by a Catholic priest and u«ed in your church. I will not open it unless you wish. I've not come here to argue, but to talk on things that you and I agree in. We will let other things go." "But ye're a Protestant?" asked a voice from the crowd. " Yes, I am." "Then in what can ye agree with U8?'» asked the schoolmaster, who regarded himself as the spy and watchman of the hour. "Oh, in many things, friend," replied the youth. " You believe in a God who made the world and all who dwell in it, and who sends t lie sun and the rain to ripen our harvests, that we may have bread, and so live ? " " Oh, sure, wo believe in him ! " " Och, yes, yes ! " replied many voices "And so do I, friends. You believe that God sent His Son, Jesus Christ, into the ''"'•' ' "' " ' ' 'JIl ii r i B ll ' l fe ll lu l j itM as his ten books, version of priest and t it unless :ue, but to > iu. We d a voice ith us?" i himself jlied the made the ho sends harvests, LAT-PREACniNO AT THE LOUQH. 189 world, and that Fo died on the cross to save all who trust in Him, don't you ? " " 0' course we bolaves that." " Yes, yes." " ludade wo does ! " were the varied replies. "And so do I. And you believe in the "Virgin Mary, too, don't you ? " « Ay, do wo ; but ye don't," said a man. " You're mistaken, friend ; I do believe in her and I honor her. She was ' blessed among women.' God honored her above all women ever born before or after her, in making her the mother of His Son, the Redeemer of the world." I thought all the Protestants despised Mary," said one. " None but a great scoffer could despise her whom God so greatly honored," said the young man. " But you don't pray to her ? " said the schoolmaster. "No, I pray only to God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit; but this is a point on which we disagree ; and we were to talk of those only il.jiji. ,iiujjjiuii;|jiii(i 190 GEMS OF THE BOG. OH wliicli we think alike. You believe io Peter, don't 7011 ? " " Pctor ? Oh, sure we do ; he it is as holds the keys." " You believe tliat he wrought miracles ? " " Surely ; all the saints do that." *' Would you like to hear from your own Bible how Peter and Jolui healed the lame mail at the gate of the temple ? " " Are you just sure it's not the Protestant Bible?" asked a timiJ-looking man in the crowd. " Quite sure, friend. You may take it and show it to Father Clakey, and if he says it is not the one he uses, but a Protestant version, you may do what you please with it." So they all sat motionless while ho road the narratives of the healing of the lame man, and Of Christ's walking on the water, stilling the tempest, and feeding the multitude. When ho .'Josed the book, ho said, " You notice, friends, tliat when Jesus saw the multitude lie had compassion on them. It is not on them alone, but on us here, and on all who are in want ■''' a' l*ilht « « J U»i« »t» » ii« . iwt u'< .ii»i T. ii n iiwai n i MM t i M i iaitm ■■ a believe ia it is as holds niracles ? " u your own 3(1 the lamo Protestant man ill the take it and lie says it is ant version, t." ho road tho le man, and (^filling tho Wlion ho ice, friends, Ldo IIo had tliom alone, re in want LAYPREACHINO AT THE LOUGH. 191 and sorrow. His compassion has not failed now that IIo has returned to His glory. IIo still hoars' and sees, and is ready to grant what we need. Tliat multitude were hungry. Is there any one hero wlio ever knew what it was to be hungry, when tliero's no food in tho cot- tage and no money to buy any ? " "Ay!" " 'Deed there is ! " "Few but has known it, sir!" "Yo'vo heard, in England, o' tho famine we had hero when the potatoes failed, and the great sickness camo ? " These were among the many answers to his question. " Yes, I've heard all that." "I wonder if there's ono here hungry to-day ? " he asked. "I bees, ycr honor," said a trembling old woman, who sat on the grass near him, " and not a handful o' meal in the house ! " " Tiien here's a crown for you, poor friend," said the young man. " Jesus has compassion on you, and perhaps He sent mo here to tell you so." An old man rose to his feet, but sat down again, as if too modest to make his plea. mad 192 GESrS OF THE BOO. i . "Who's that, boys?" askel tho gentleman. "It's ould Jemmy Flynn, a real dacent body ! " cried several at once. " Then here's a crown for him too, and I've Btill another for any one tliat's poor or sick. But I'm sure all that can work have too much honor to take what sliould 'oo given to the needy." Strange as it may seem, among a class proverbial as beggars, no one else applied for help. " Hunger is not the greatest sorrow," con- tinued the young man. " If tliero is any one hero with other troubles, remember Jesus ia among us, and Ho has compassion on you." " PIusc, sir, I lost my baby, and my heart's broke, and I can't ate nor slape I'm that hungry for him. My arms is so empty they aches all day and all night," said a pale woman, pressing through the crowd. " Jesus' own mother had her heart broken too, when tlio cruel Jews were crucifying her Son. He pitied her, and He told John to take her for his mother, and to comfort her, and ho did BO. Ho will comfort you too, if you ask wwimwrixn i i,, .,. gentleman, eal dacent 0, and I've or or sick. I too much 311 to the among a so appliod ow," con- J any one ' Jesus is on you." ly heart's I'm that ipty they i a pale ■t hrokon fying hor n to take ', and ho you ask LAT-PREACmNO AT THE LOUQH. 193 Him, and fill your soul with His love, so that you can think with joy of your haby, and of the time when you shall take it again in those poor acliing arms," said the stranger, with pity in his voice. The people, finding he had a word for all, pressed around him and began telling him their sorrows, half a dozen speaking at once. At last ho said, « Let me say to each one of you, no matter what your sorrow is, — or your sins, eitlior,— Jesus has compassion on you." All tills time John and Paddy had been sit- ting under a willow behind tiie stranger. Paddy now touched his elbow and said, " 'Dade, sir, if I should till yo my throubles, ye'd niver belavo me. Ye'd think I was makin' lip lies to amuse yo ! " The young man pro- bably saw that it would bo like letting loose a torrent, if he began to talk with one who bore so little resemblance to a mourner; so ho just bade iiim .emember what ho had said to the others ; and, thanking them for their civility and bidding them good-day, he was about leaving, when one of the young men called 194 OEMS or THE Boa. \ ' out, « But, sir, we heard you was to tell us about the games ye have in England. Will ye stop a bit and try a hand at pitchiu' quoits ? " " Not to-day, my good fellow; God gives us six dajs to ourselves, but on this one, the first day of the week, on which the Saviour rose from tlio dead, He commands us not to do our own works nor think our own thoughts, but to keep it holy unto Him. Come here at BuuHct on Tuesday, and I will meet you as a boy, at healthful sport. To-day I came as a Christian, to toll you of Him whom my soul lovoth, and whom I want the whole world to love. Take this Bible, schoolmaster, a»id make sure I have not deceived you." As he turned to go, John rose and followed him. " You don't think, sir," ho said to him in a low tone, « that He could have compassion on»»e. I'm such a fearful sinner! I've been a hypocrite, and a Pharisee, and all that's evil. 0' course you've heard o' »ie — John Shee- ban." "No, never," replied the young man. i to tell us aud. Will at pitcblu' od gives us le, the first viour rose t to do our thoughts, me licre at you as a same as a t my soul world to and make i followed d to him )mpas8iou I've beea Imt's evil. )hu Siiee- in. ■■ '" LA T.PREACmm AT THE LOVQB. 195 wn'mT""' ^''^' I "'««gl't the whole worldhadheerdo'me-audwascursiu'u,eby this ture ! Didu't Mr. Murray tell ye o' me aud the home ? '' "Not a word,frieud; but unless your sius are redder thausearlet aud deeper thauerim- Bon Jesus has compassion on you, and will forgive you." "Well, sir, will ye ask Mr. Murray if I,e Innks there is power enough in Heaven to God r' ""'' ""'"''"* ^'''''^^"^ *'"^ •'*"«««<^ °f J^. v" r'""'"' ^^ P^^'- ™'^»' ^"d he will say, Yes, and Jesus will say unto you, « Thv su^are forgiven thee; go anc sin no more.' " Had Protestants built a church iuKillyrooke and sent a minister to preach in it, they could not thus have accomplished as much for the people as cMd that almost boy, with his heart full of love for Christ and of zeal in His service. 1 he Bible was pronounced a "Catholic" one by the priest, and so the stranger's word was verified. 196 GEMS OF THE BOO. Tho compassion of Jesus aud the miracles by whicii He proved it were the themes in many a poor homo that Sunday night ; and duiMig tlio three or four woeks of his college vacation, that young lay-preacher did a great work for those cottagers. He broke down tiio barriers, so that after that, any man whom they respected could get an audience at the lough, while he read portions of Scripture from the Douay version and made comments on it ; carf being used not to arouse prejudice or fear by openly assailing the Bomish church. % "wwMniimri^mBai m^ ) miracles themes in liglit; and Ins cullcge lid a great do\^a tiie lan whom ue at the )turo from iiits oil it ; ice or fear h. CHAPTER XVni. A VISIT OF MEBCT. Ty HEN the young stranger returned to the T ? parsonage, he reported his doings to Mr. Murray, who had been too wise to accompany Imn. When he delivered John Sheehan'a incssage, a shadow passed over the minister's face. "He has indeed made desolation in both church and home," he said, " and only for the abounding mercy and grace of God I should .avc no hope for him ! He ran well when none iHudered, but he was a poor, weak creature, ^.tbout Christian principle. His parents were P'llars in the church, though poor and unlet- torod folk. His mother was as nearly a saint as any mortal who ever walked the earth. They held him up, perhaps too much. "If one was kept in a standing-stool till he 107 198 OEMS OF THE BOO. i was fully grown, without ever using his own limbs, I think ho would fall as soon as ho at- tempted to stand alone ; at all events, the first thrust from a foe would lay him low ; and onco down, ho would not know how to rise again. " This man's case has lain heavily on my heart. Such has been the good name they bore, that wo always pointed the cotters to that family as an example of consistent walk, and of the power of the Gospel to keep men pure even when surrounded by all that is ungodly. The course this last one of the race has pur- sued, has outraged the feelings of even the rude and ignorant Papists about him, and brought contempt on the Protestant faiHi. I went three times to pull him, if might be, out of the fire, but he made oflF and would not see me at all, as if well pleased with the fetters in which Satan had bound him. If ho is ever humbled and reeds help, he will have to come to me for it ! " The young gentleman remained silent, and Mr. Murray saw that the last remark did not meet his approbation. 1 ng his own n as 'lo at- ts, the first ; and onco 36 again, ily oil my I they bore, rs to that walk, and J men pure s ungodly. J has pur- even the him, and t faith. I ;ht be, out Id not see } fetters in le" is ever ve to come silent, and k did not A VISIT OF MERC 7. 199 " You may think I am severe," he continued, " but you never saw the happy homo he has made desolate, nor the saiut-like woman who has meekly forsaken it witiiout a word of cen- sure, or even a farewell to the minister and the church, who regarded her as a bright and shin- ing light among them, and who felt drawn heavenward by her quiet faith and humble -^aL No, I shall never go after him ! " "And yet," said the young man, "after all this, he has a soul ! It was sinners, and not the righteous, that Jesus came to save ; to seek as well as to save." " That is true, and we must be careful not to stand on our small dignity when He stooped BO low," replied the good minister, rebuked by tiie faith of his friend. " You know brands have to be plucked from the burning, sir. They cannot walk forth from the flames themselves," continued tijo guest. "True; and Sheehan seems to have been bound hand and foot by the enemy, that he might not only lose his own soul, but be also a 200 GEMS OF THE BOO. cause of stuml.ling to many. Pcrlmps l.o ou-H.t to have a helping hand, but if I si,o„ld go'to '"'» It might heal the wound too slightly I core not how sorely ho suffers, „or how Ion.. As he opened his mind to you, how would It do for you to take his case in hand, and earn whether he is really repeatant, or only longing for his old peace and respectability again ? " ■' "If you will trust me, sir, I will talk with he poor man gladly, for his pale face has Launted me ever since he whispered those words ,n my ear," replied the young man. " Well, as you have promised to meet the boys at the lough on Tuesday, take the cottage on your way home, sending my boys on before you," said Mr. Murray. J Would it not be a good work to close this Sabbath wUh, sir? To-morrow or Tuesday he may be off in Ms fields, or at market, or -lor - one of us may be in eternity ! For my own part, sir I feel that I'm working by the hour for my Master, and may be called in from the fidd at any moment. I have hardly dared to A VISIT OF MEROT. 201 >8 ho oii'jhfc oil Id go to iliglitly. I liow long, would it tiand, and it> or only pectability talk with faco has red tliose man. meet the 10 cottage on before jIoso this lesday ho , or — or my own lie hour from the lared to speak the word 'to-morrow' for six montha past, in reference to work for souls," replied the youth, solemnly. Mr. Murray looked up in surprise at « the boy," as ho called him, and replied, " Yes, if you arc not too weary, go now, and forget wl'iat I have said calculated to discourage you, re- mcmbcrhig only that Ho will not break 'the bruised reed nor quench the smoking flax. If you sec one spark of repentance, fan it; but warn him not to feign sorrow for sin, under a desire to regain his character and his home. If he speaks of seeing me, advise him rather to go to Elder Peter. I'm too easily touched by the sight of sorrow to deal with the like of him. Elder Peter is a son of thunder, and will bo faithful without being too merciful." " You are sure he will not ' smite off tho riglifc ear' instead of saying, ' Go and sin no moro ' ? " asked the young man. « I fear that old man, with his stern sense of justice, may lack the charity that covers a multitude of Bins " Well, then, my dear boy, send Sheehan to *■" 202 OEMS OF TUB BOO. mo, if ho desires help ; and I will strive to read his case," replied the raiiiister. Mr. Murray took his hat and cane, and walked on witli his friend as far as the litllo churchyard which surrounded his chapel. They went in among the beds of the lowly sleepers, just as the last streak of the golden light was fading in the west. Very near the chapel door Mr. Murray laid liis hand on a plain slato headstone, saying, "Hero sleeps tho mother of this man — a woman of whom the world was not we -thy." And then in a few words ho told the story of her strong, pure life, and ended by a recital of her sou's indignation over her open grave, because a half-idiot had pronounced her safe in heaven — tho only one there of tho race or name ! « And yet, seo what he has done for lier honor," he said. " Now go on, my boy ; you will have tho moon for your company home, and may God go with you, and put words into your mouth." * Tho young stranger stooped and plucked a briar twig and three shamrock blossoms from A VISIT OF MERCT. 108 ri?e to read cane, and i the IUHq lapcl. They 7 sleepers, light was shapel door )lain slato ho mother the world the story y a recital )en grave", 1 her safe 10 race or I done for my boy; company and put * clucked a oms from the mound where Mammy Honey was sleeping, and (lien passed down the solitary road which lay between the village of Cloynmally and the hamlet of Killyrooko. He knew the cottage, — which had been des- cribed to him, -by the little glass window, AvhicL glistened through the vines in the moon- light. With one bound he sprang over the stile, and with a few steps reached the open door. The room was lighted by a single rush taper, making the figures within very indistinct. Be- fore he had time to knock, he heard Paddy say, " But, Masther, the young jintleman said, ' All manner of sins' would be forgive to people, and I'm sure that ye— vile as ye are— haven't committed them all! Ye niver stole a ha'peth from any body ; ye niver warshipped gods o' wood and stone ; ye niver worked on the Sab- bath day, — ye, nor yer donkey, nor yer man- servant, nor the sthranger that war within yer gates ; nor ye niver invied Harpley Hall, nor the fine things in it, to the owner, nor " « Hark, there, Paddy ! there's some neigh- bor knockin'," interrupted John. « Come in ! " >i 204 GEMS OF TUB BOO. " Surely," he continued, rising to meet the stranger, on whose uncovered head the moon was shining, " this is not the young jintloraan, come to visit the sperit in prison? Did yo give my luossago to dear, dear Mr. Murray, sir?" asked John, looking earnestly in his' face. " Yes." "And what said he? -that there was one ray of hope for mo in the world to come ? In this world I do not look for peace ! " "Ho said, my friend, that hut for the abounding mercy and the free grace of God ho should look on your case as a hopeless one ; but that if you truly repent of your sin against God — not merely feel sorrow for the wreck of your own happiness — there is hope." John took tho gentleman's hand in both his own, and leading him lo a chair, exclaimed, " 1 will lay my heart bare before ye and tell yo all ; and thin if yo think God can listen, I'll ask ye that has a hearin' at tho raarcy-seat, to plead with Him for rao." " I do not war.t to hear of your sins, poor mm ; to meet the ad the moon iigjintloman, •n? Did yo Mr. Murray, estly ill his ere was one ) come ? In [)ut for the of God lie •peloss one ; ' sin against 10 wreck of in both his exclaimed, and tell yo 1 listen, I'll ircy-seat, to • sins, poor A VISIT OF MERCY. 205 man. I only want to know that you've for- saken them, and are penitent before God. He came not to call tlie righteous, but sinners to repenhmce; and the greater your sins, the greater your need of Him, and the greater Saviour he will bo to you." " Will, will, thin there's a fine chance for him , for a huger sinner ye'U not find in Killy- rooke!" cried Paddy, who had been sitting unnoticed in a dark corner of the kitchen. " Whist, Paddy," said his master, " and listen to the jintleman while he talks to us." " What is it, friend, that troubles you ? Is it tliafc your respectability and peace are gone, or that your soul is ia danger ? " " It is that I have sinned against a holy God, whom I once thought I loved and honored, and have brought shame on His name among His foes ; that I have disgraced the dead, and broke the heart o' the livin', and ruined my- self ontirely. This last is sorrow enough ; but when I remembers God, all that fades away. I can't pray. Och, it is a fearful thing to be . i 206 OEMS or THE BOO. shut out from tho presence o' God and not bo able even to call upon Him." " You must pray or you are lost; no man can do that for you." ^; " Ay, yon is jist what I'm always tiUin' hiui — to say his prayers," said Paddy. " 0' course ho won't be forgive till ho docs — ' what's worth tlio takiu' is worth tho askin' ! " " If I could get a ray o' hope, sir," said John, without paying the least regard to Paddy's speech, « I'd lave my lovely home and go forth among strangers and toil at any work for a crust. I'd not ask a shelter by day or Might, nor a smile from mortal, nor even aso from pain o' body ! " " Ah, you'd buy peace with God by pen- ance, like your poor neighbors, would you? But it can not bo done. The blood of Josus Christ, and that alone, cleansoth from all sin. Do you believe that ? " " Ay, I have believed it from my cradle up ; but Twy sin, sir " ■ - " Is it greater than all sin, so great that it m^ A nSIT OF MERCr. Sot and not be it; no man I tillin' Iiiu iddy. " 0' lie docs — askiu' ! " , sir," said regard to home and t any work by day or r even ase d by pcn- )uld you? of J0SU8 m all sin . jradio up ; )at tliat it outweighs the promise and the power of God ? Take care, my friend, how you limit the ability of Illm who said, 'All power is Mine in heaven and earth,' " said the visitor. "It never entered my head that I was a sinner, sir, till late years. I thought myself an example to all, for vartue and piety." " Och, that ye did," responded Paddy from his dark corner, "and the blissed one in h-Tcn war always warnin' ye agin the ' liven o' the Pharisees,' and tellin' ye that ye war all buried up in yer crops and yor cattle ! Well do I remember in those last days how she said, 'Beware, boy, o' self-righteousness; let him that standoth take hade list he fall.' Poor Paddy remembers her holy tacliin', if her own son don't, and I only a poor workhouse lad and a Pnpislit beside. I'd be under great com- pliment to ye, young jintleman if ye'd say yer prayers hero, seoin' that he'll not say his. I'll sit still and listen, though I daren't for the life o' me go onto my knees." '* I hope you will not forgot your own soul, wm ■iMni 208 GEMS OF TUB BOO. my poor man, in your caro for your master," said the gcnlleraan. " Ocli, but I'm safe, sir ; I'm a Catholic and quite in favor with father Clakey these days, 'count o' the fine way I've behaved myself in the th roubles at Daisy Farm ; though he's a bit angered witli all the boys for listening to ye at tiie lough, the day. He's quite sure that ye are ather n clergy or the makin's o' one, — a Methodis like, that's come out o' England to lade us asthray. He's comiu' to the play- ground a Tuesday to spy ye." " I hope ho will ; I'd bo glad to sec him ; but at present we have to do witli this one ques- tion, ' What must I do to be saved ? ' " said the gentleman. And far into the night ho talked with John, and prayed for him, and encouraged him to accept the offered pardon, while poor Paddy slept in his chair. r master," itholic and hose days, myself in 1 he's a bit iig to yc at i"e that ye ' ono, — a i^iiglaiid to the play- ' him ; but ono ques- I ? '" said 'itli John, d him to or Paddy CHAPTER XIX. ELDER PETER. WHEN John Shcohan parted with the young man, in the darkness, at tlie gate of his cottage; he said, « I'll take yor advice, sir, even though the only way to loose the hop- ples from my feet be to go forth into the world penniless, to am my bread as a farm servant. Many thanks to ye for yer condescinsion, and yer marcy to a poor sinful, sorrowful man " When he entered the cottage again, ho roused the sleeping Paddy, who started to his feet as if in great alarm. After looking about him wildly for some seconds, he remembered the circumstances under which he had fallen asleep, and exclaimed, "Have I been that oncivil that I let the stranger go without a bow m 14 i GEMS OF THE BOO. from mo or a ' God bliss je,' after all the pains lie's took about gettiu' our sins forgiven ' " Paddy took tl.e sins as well as the honors of the Sheehans all to himself; and he now felt as grateful to the gentleman as if ho had been the especial object of his visit. "Sit down now and rouso yonrsilf like a man and listen to me," said John, in a solemn tone. "I've promised this night that I'll lade a new life from this hour. I've resolved to break the hateful fetters." " And ye'U break yer resolve when yon one comes back from tho fair and abuses yo, — as ye have done a hoondered times afore," replied Paddy, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "No, Paddy; ye and me is free from this hour, even if we have to lave the darlin' cottago and all in it. I care no more for all this land, iior the crops, than for the dust in the road,— these treasures that has well nigh cost me my «oul," said his master. " And whore'll we go ? " asked Paddy. " We'll go whore's work to be had, and hire •••— — TT-Tf UPP ELDER PETES. 211 all the pains ^ivcn ' " e lioiiors of lie now felt lio had beeu ' like a man olcmn tone. lado a new break the m yon one Qs yo, — as •0," replied from this lin' cottage 1 this land, le road, — >st me my Idy. , and hire out as farm servants, may be; but I must think first," replied John. " I'll not lave this lovely cottage to yon one!'' exclaimed Paddy. "I'll set fire to it and burn it up, and then I'll drive oflF the cratiirs and sell them to some marciful body as will love them tinder." " But the cottage is not ours, it belongs to the estate o' Harpley Hall, and we'd be tran- sported for burnin' it down. We'll do right at any rate, and not get out o' one sin by lap- in' into another," replied John. " Let's ask advice o' Elder Peter, for though he'll not buy eggs of sinners, — as if the inno- cent luns were to blame for the ill doin' o' their masthcr, — he's quite ready to give them advice," said Paddy. " I can go to Mr. Murray, but I'm afeareder o' Elder Peter nor of death itself," replied John. " He's a man o' very holy life, Paddy ; and never havin' fallen himself, ho knows not how to pity the sinner. He goes half a mile out o' his way to the Hall, o' rent day, rather than pass Daisy Farm ; and onco when I met ■I BMB 212 OEMS OF THE BOO. liim in the road, lie sprang over a thorn hedge rather than go by me." ♦' Och ! he'd made a poor hand at kapin' xjorapany with the Son o' Mary when Ho was on arth ! Didn't the onld misthress read us fine lessons about Him ating with publicans and sinners and the like villyans ? And ye mind yon Mary that He let wash His holy feet, and the poor body He spoke tinder to, whin the grand folk brought her to Him for punish- ment in the timple. If Elder Pctor had been there, he would ha' been the dith o' all thira sinners." " Well, Paddy, when the darkness falls the morrow night, I'll slip up to Mr. Murray's, and humble myself before him as I have before the Lord ; and I'll do just what he bids mo, if it's to leave all here and flee like a beggar. But ye have a work to do for me, Paddy, as well as *lie minister. In the vision o' Mammy Honey, — by which I should ha' taken warnin', — ye it was that drew the pizen tooth out o' the heart o' love." " I'll soon do thatf with yer lave, and like no at kapiii' Ho was read ua publicans And yo holy feet, to, wliin )!• punish- liad been ' all tliira falls the •ay's, and eforo the ne, if it's ;ar. But is well as y Honey, ELDER PETER. 218 better business," replied Paddy, springing to his feet and rubbing his hands together im- patiently. " Don't ye move a foot, Paddy, without Mr. Murray's biddin', for yc've not the judgment o' a child," replied John. "Och, hasn't I? And where would Daisy Farm be to-day, weren't it for my judgment in buyin' and sellin' at the market these last years ? *' replied Paddy, with ofliiended dignity. The young stranger made his way home in the darkness, for the moon had set long before ho left the cottage. As he passed the few poor hovels on his way to Cloyuraally, the sleepers Within were startled by hearing a low, sweet voice singing in the road, — , •■ t "The dying thief rqoioed toaee That fountain in his day : " ! 0, may I there, though vile as he, . Wash all my sins away." While this earnest young disciple had been striving to lead the wanderer to God, Elder Peter, tho village stone-cutter, had been closeted with the minister, looking as hard as the ma- ■MMMHIMMH ^ S5SS / 214 QEMS OF THE BOO. terial he wrought on. " Well, sir," he said, as he took the offered seat in Mrs. Murray's modest little parlor, " I've been hearin' strange tilings from my 'printice lads, o' the doin's of tliis young lad that's stoppin' with ye, — such a doin's for the Lord's day as I would not belave till I'd first ask yersilf. What's tiiis he's doing ? " " No evil, I'm sure," said Mr. Murray, re- turning the stony gaze of Elder Pete* very calmly. «« Well I heered that he'd been at the Killy- rooko lough consorting witii Papist boys, tell- ing them about pitchiu' quoits and ball-playin', and that ho bclaved in the Virgin Mary and every thing else they belaved ; and that there was just no differ at all betwixt the two reli- gions. And he passed silver about, like a fool, among the crowd, — it will all go for whisky and tobacco, — and worse nor all, who do you think he walked off" in company with ? Who but John Sheehau ! " Elder Peter's righteous indignation had well nigh taken away his breath before he got •c: ) said, as Murray's ' strange doiirs «rith yo, 1 would liat's tills irray, ro- stCu* very !ie Kiily- oys, tcll- 1-playiu', [ary and lat there two reli- ke a fool, r whisky } do you h? Who bad well ) he got ELDER PETER. 215 ;sm.- through this description of the modest youth's effort" at the play-ground. Mr. Murray went into a labored defense of his friend, pledging himself that no evil should be done through him to Protestantism in the town. But "though vanquished," Elder Peter "could argue still." He expressed great sur- prise that his minister should have trusted a u.cre boy on such an errand as that on which he was now gone. " He's jist quite a novice, supposiu' he's even sincere," he said. « What is he, a soft-hearted lad, to set the terrors of the law before that offender? He's been at my yard tellin' me '■ about the great awakeniu' they've had in his college ; and I think he's a visionary. I tried to sound him, but there was no depth, either to his experience nor yet to his Bible knowledge, lie was quite thick in his views o' Daniel's vision. I could not draw him into an argu- ment about Melchisedek ; and as to the Apo- calypse-why, he knew nothing of the correct interpretation of the living craturs full of eyes before and behind ! He had no more opinion BtS:;^' 216 OEMS OF TEE BOO. about tho scarlet beast with tlie seven heada and ton horns than a babe unborn ! " " But he's a new-born soul, elder ; wo must not look for wisdom in a child," replied Mr. Murray. " Ay, very good, minister ; and ought we to put a strong man's work into tho bauds' of a babe ? Answer me that, will ye ? " " I have done nothing for Sheehan," replied Mr, Murray, « but I saw no reason why he might not point him to Christ when ho desired to do so." " Yo've done nothing ? Didn't ye go twico or thrice to him, and he turn his back on ye ? " "But that was all I did, save to pray for him." " Well, I've done all I could as an elder o* the church," replied Elder Peter. " May I inquire what you have done, bro- ther, except to pray for him?" asked tho minister ; " for of course, you have done that." The elder hesitated a moment, but he was never at a loss for a passage of Scripture to suit his purpose. « Well, no, minister I have 1 ELDER PETER. m go twice on ye ? " pray for * not prayed for John Sheeliau. Do ye not mind a passage which reads, ' I say not that ye shall pi-ay for tlicso.' I regard hiin as one of ' these.' 1 met him once in the road, and I scathed him with my conntenance. Then I refused to take my weekly supply o' eggs when he sent them ; and I've gone round the back road every time I've been up to the Hall with my rent, rather than countenance him by passing his door. My conscience is clear in his case, and I have no faitli in his repentance, 'less a mericle be performed to prove it. But the night wanes ; I must away." Just as Mr. Murray, candle in hand, opened the door to let the elder out, his young guest mounted the steps. " Oh, here he is, back from an errand which might make a very angel timid ! " exclaimed Elder Peter. The young man looked at him in surprise. " Listen to me, lad," he continued. " Did ye ever hear & one that ran before he was sent?" « Yes, sir," was the answer. Ill 218 GEMS OF THE BOO. " Well, and so have I ; aud I've seen such an one, too. Good-niglit, minister; good-night, lad." And tlie elder walked forth in all the dignity of conscious orthodoxy. seen such an good-night, :h in all the CHATTER XX. DELIVEEANCR FROM EVIL. AFTER Mr. Murray had talked some time with John on tho following evening, he took liim to the cottage of Elder Peter, who actod in all church matters as if Peter of early fame had placed » the keys " in his hand when ho left the church militant behind him. Elder Peter first denounced the wanderer with the severity of faithfulness, and then, ap- plying all the thumb-screws and soul-screws ho could invent, put him through a course of questioning to test his sincerity and his hu- mility. » If the clnlrch (he meant himself, for all the others were meek and tender-hearted) should bid ye stand up afore the people for a public robukin', would ye do it?" he asked, Bbrply. m Mrai no GEMS OF TIIF. BOO. Ill " I would, sir," replied John, " before them and the Lord too." " If they bid yc go to every Catholic house in Killyrooke, and confess that yo were never a Cliristian, but a hypocrite and a Pharisee, would ye do it ? " " I will do that whether I'm bid or not, sir, because I owe it to Him whose name I have disgraced," replied John, humbly. " If they bid ye to give all yer goods to fee4 the poor, and lave ycrself penniless, would ye do it?" And Elder Petor looked shrewdly from one corner of his eye, as if sure he had now struck the sore point. "I would, sir, and bo thankful that I had any thing to give, thus to prove my piui- tence," said John. " Would ye give yer body to be burned ? " « If God bid mo do that, I'd ask Him for grace and strength to do it," replied John. » Well, and if the church bid yc, would yo promise never to seek yer wife again ? For it may bo the desire for yer old peace, and not DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 221 oUc house iro never a Pharisee, )r not, sir, me I have ids to ief^A , would ye shrewdly ire he had that I had my pini- imed?" k nim for John. !, would yo II ? For it ;o, and not tlBSK repentance for sin that leads ye here. Would yo promise this ? " "No, sir, not for all the churches in the world, I wouldn't. God is over all. Because I've broke my vow to Him and her, it is no rea- son I should keep on break! n' it. I shall seek her at once, and strive to atono for my past evil with tenfold o* love and tinderness, if she comes to me — but she never will. Forgive- ness like that would be more nor mortal." Elder Peter frowned. lie was there as an inquisitor, anii was not to be taught by such a sinner. " Then you make some resarve in this matter ?" he asked, harshly. " I resarve the right to cease doin* evil, and to make amends for the past," said John. "He's right there. Elder," whispered the minister, who was the only mortal to whose opinion the rigid man would yield. ♦* His confession is full and free, we must admit." " Well, Slieehan, I hope yo're sincere, and we'll overlook the past and try to respect ye again. Ye may take yor seat in tlio house o' God, next Lord's day, and PU loave the mat 222 GEMS OF TUB BOO. tei- o' the public rebukiu' to the minister's de- cision." The minister's decision was a very merciful one, — that John should call at the parsonage, and walk through the churchyard and into the church by his side. Tiiis would show the con- gregation that he had been forgiven and re- ceived into favor by the minister and elders , and would secure their pardon and pity for him. Elder Peter's sense of justice was as strong as his hatred of sin ; and ho said that, evil as was the heart of Nan O'Gormau, she ought not to be sent forth from the cottage penniless, — thus perchance to bo led into new sin. So ho ordered John, with Mr. Murray's approval, to place ton pounds in his hands for her, which could only be demanded by her in person. Mr. Murray, knowing John's timidity and weakness of purpose, wanted to encourage him. He therefore requested him to remain a few days in Cloynmally to look after the men who were laying out the garden attached to the little parsonage. Matters at the cottage, ■^TTT? ■^Hi;j..;..,vtj'^ii.WiH!' ' t!g-^ as strong it, evil as ought not milcss, — 1. Bo ho proval, to lor, which 'son. idity and [sncourago remain a > tho raon tached to cottage, DELIVERANCE FROM EVlL. 223 and a message from Elder Peter to Nan , on her return, were left with Paddy Mannon, who by this trust was greatly elevated in his own esteem. " God helps those who help themselves." Juat as soon as John had resolved, in tho fear of God, to break the chain that bound him, it was broken without a blow from his hand. Tiie day after he loft the cottage, Nan returned in high spirits, with two companions, to get her clothes, and to say " good-bye to all Killy- rooke, — tho dull old place where she'd wore out her best days for nothing." She an- nounced to Paddy that a new linen-mill had just gone into operation, about twenty-Qve miles away, and that she was going there to work with her friends. She was too young and too fair to spend her life milking cows and spin- ning flax ; and so they must get on as they could without her at Daisy Farm. The mea- sngo from Elder Peter was delivered, with an order to appear before him within ten days, or tho money would be made over to tho poor of tho parish. I i I i-d off, yo'll ly Mannon hress' own give her ! for a higli- vcring pas- were gone, ■ the joyful ) " send off by the b'y it huntin'." ir Peter ad- ts old order } lack of in- and around ost empty ; les Mammy Honey had loved and trained were tangled and broken, and disfigured with the dead leaves and stems of four summers. "When it was known in the village that the usurper was gone, and that John and Paddy were making preparations for Peggy's return — if return she would, — it gave general satis- faction. Some, in their pleasure, forgot that he had caused her exile, and took John by the hand when they met him, and said, " I wish ye joy, neighbor ! Can I help ye clare the place up for her comin' ? " Tiie lady of Harpley I all, herself a sad, neglected wife, knew the story of Peggy's wrongs and her quiet departure. Wlien she heard that she was expected back, she sent a man to the cottage with a gift of two young deer for pets, — the only door ever owned by a peasant in that region. She honored the gift by sending two blue ribbons to be tied around their necks on the day of Poggy's return, with a message that she should call at the cottage some day to see the woman who had always 15 mimth i li 226 OEMS OF TEE BOG. Bct 8uch good examples to the people on the estate. , Soon after this, an old woman i i the neigh- borhood, who had received much kindness from both Mammy Honey and Peggy in times of sickness, tapped at the door of the cottage. John opened it, and looked in amazement at the burden of life she carried in her apron, the corners of which she held tightly in her hands. "Neighbor John," she said, "I've heard that the black cloud is broke over Daisy Farm and that the sun is overhead again. I've come with a small gift to her as is comin' back. Here's my best hin and fourteen fine eggs laid by herself. I'd like to %et her in the hin- house, that Peggy may have, at least, one little brood to feed,^she that loves livin' croatur's BO dear." Father Clakey, who rejoiced that Nan was gone and thus the offence removed from his flock, was seen, one morning, coming down the road with a huge pot of geranium, all aflame with flowers. I DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 227 people on the i i the uoigh- uch khidnesa »cggy in times )f the cottage, amazement at her apron, the \f in her hands. " I've heard er Daisy Farm lin, I've come [S comin' back, n fine eggs laid ler in tlio hin- , least, one little \ liviu' croatur's d that Nan was moved from his g, coming down )f geranium, all " Here, Mannon," he called over the hedge, " set this in yer misthrcss' little glass window, and till her it came with my respects. And mind J bid yc clarc np all tliis place, and trim the vines and sort up the flower-beds before her coming ; for she's a worthy, paceable body, and an example to these hathen savages that are breaking my heart with their con- duct." Paddy had scarcely done bowing to and hon- oring his " riverence," when an infirm old woman, who had suflFered sorely for warm stockings since Peggy's departure, came hob- bling into the little garden where Paddy was at work. *»*^ ' " I heerd, Paddy, that ivery body is Binding gifts to the raisthress but mysilf. But I've not a ha'peth to give. Wouldn't ye sufiFer me to wash the dairy or to sweep the kitchen to show my love ? " she said. " Och, dade I will, granny," cried the mas- ter of ceremonies. " I've got an ilegant job for ye, and one that I oflFered nather to his * riverence ' nor yet to the lady o' the Hall. .M mmmm MM Mm mourn .1 228 GEMS OF THE BOO. Take yo the little flax-whccl that she loved so, and a bit o' soap. Go down to the lough, and there dip the wheel tin times iu the water. Thin scour it with the soap till yer arm is nigh broke. Thin dip it tin times more and wipe it dry. Burn the flax that's on it, and throw the ashes o't in tho lough, and put on frush flax tliat I'll give ye. And whin yer sure there's not a trace o' the evil hands on it, bring it back to its own place again." Old Monica set about her work joyfully, and when it was accomplished, she charged Paddy to "tell the misthrcss, or she would never know it was done." Cloynmally caught the spirit, and bulbs and shrubs were set out in the little flower-garden, and several good books laid on the table beside the old Bible. But it remained for Paddy to make the most marvelous change. One day hie master came iuto the kitchen, and found him with a hoe, minus the handle, down on his knees, scrap- ing the clay floor, beaten hard by the wear of a century, and whose hardness and evenness -~4 DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 229 slio loved so, le lough, and in the water, r arm is nigh ■e and wipe it ind throw the on frjsh flax r snro there's )n it, bring it J joyfully, and ihargod Paddy would never and bulbs and flower-garden, the tabic beside make the most lie master came im with a hoe, s knees, scrap- by the wear of s and evenness were John's pride. It was now as if a plough^ share had been run lightly over it in all direc- tions, a mass of broken clay and dust. " What are ye doing, man ? Look at this destruction ! " cried Jolin, with grief in Lis tone.' " Kape quite asy, masther, and I'll soon make all riglit agin," replied Paddy. "I'm but takin' off the top o' the clay, that the darlin' may not have to walk on the same floor yon one has trod these years." It was no easy job to smooth the floor again, but Paddy accomplished it; and in about ten days, with the approval of Mr. Murray, he set off on tho errand he )>id been looking and hop- ing for, for four weary years. John had urged Paddy to go to the city in his new working-clothes, but he disdained the thougiit of making so poor an appearance when he was going on such important busi- ness. "'Dade the ould masthcr's Sunday shute won't be new to thim where I'm goin', for they've seen thim afore, and were well plazed r*» s$!m^ ' '^ '« m t m j \ ! 230 OEMS OF TUE BOO. too - for they all laughed very pleasant at me, Lfrom the grand lady o' the house to the „aids that fed me m the kitchen 1 1 « n o s„.all farmer's house, nor other workin man s ather, that I'm gom' to now," ho added toss- i„g his head proudly, "but to the raal gen- There's, a brass sign-board foot long, on the door, with their name out showin'ti.at it's ti.eimportantes^thmgm the world for people that passes to know who Uves Zithin. What's the good o' a lad havm. fine clothes if he's not to wear them wlun ho s among fme people? 'Dade, I'll wea o other John offered Paddy money to g. '»o post- chaise, but he seorned it as au in»muation of weakness. , , «rve been nigh forty year boastm that I ■ could keep paee with post-horses on my owu two feet, and it would be a beggarly tlung to give it up now. 'Dade, I'll be my own post. horses," he said. John had given him a thousand messages before he set off; but he accompanied him a piece on the road repeating them. ,^l asant at mo, louso to the en. It'8 no jrkiu' man's ) added, toss- ,1,0 raal gcu- ird — nigli a r name ou't, tiling in the low who lives ad havin' fine jin wljin he's 'ca -0 other." g, he post<- iusiuuatiou of boastin' that I les on my own Tgarly thing to my own post- isand messages ampanied him a DELIVERANCE FROM EVIL. 231 « Mind ye tell her, Paddy, that there's niyer been a sunbame in my heart since she left it ; that I've been honrly mournin' after her, but was too wake to break the chain. Tell her how I forsook God's house and shunned his people I and tell her all about the last sorrow in my soul for sin ; and tell her about the young jintlemau from the college that led mo to sec a ray — mind, it's but a small, feeble ray^ -of hope ; and say that if she will come back, it'll be a new John Sheehan she'll find at Daisy Farm, not the proud Pharisee she loft there, but a man humbled in the d-st and afcared to live lest ho sin more agiu a long- suffering God. Can ye remember all I've said to ye, Paddy?" « I'd have a bad memory if I couldn't," re- plied Paddy, " for ye've tould me ivery thing tin times over. I'll make all the confissions and promises, and I'll tell her the fine daring up we'v^ hud at the farm, and all about the young deer, and the priest's flowers and the books, and then she'll just fly to get back to the home she loved so dear." 1 iTinnimiimiiil lliti >a 232 GEM3 OF THE BOG. «rai not so suro o' that, Paddy," replied John, with a mournful shake of the head. "The fine folk will ha' learned her value by this time, and will strive to hinder her lavm' by hapin' abuses on me. And if this be so, and Bhe refuse to come back, tell her that war what I feared and what I dcsarvcd; and tell her though I niver see her more, she may hope that her prayers and the dear dead mother's is answered, and that poor John is saved -«o as by fire. Can ye remember that ? " The last words were evidently unintelligible to Paddy, but he did not admit it. " Oh, yes, I'll remimber it, and if I shouldn't, I'll make up something as fine as it. Now, gooQ-day to ye, masther. May good luck go with me, and 'bide with ye; and mind ye're faithfu to the cows and the rest o' the work while 1 m gone, so that I'll not find all in disorder when I retarns. See, there's the sun just peepin over the bog as he did the mornin' I conveyed her, with her blue box on my shoulder, to the wagoner at the turn o' the road. Fare yo well ! " ^ ?addjs" replied ! of the head, id her value by Icr her lavia' by this bo so, and ir that war what d; aud tell her , she may hope dead mother's is is saved — so aa t?" tly unintelligible it it. " Oh, yes, )uldn't, I'll make Now, gooa-day uck go with me, i yo're faithful to e work while I'm iu disorder when sun just peepin' ornin' I convoyed ly shoulder, to the le road. Fare yo DELIVEIIANCE FROM EVIL. 23S And throwing his stick, on the end of which was a bundle, over his shoulder, the poor, faithful fellow trudged off on his long day's journey, whistling, " Will ye go to KdTin groTe! •• iiilMMMMIM ■attfMliiiuMH ■■I f CHAPTER XXI. PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. Iy^O of the sunniest cliambcrs iu the liouae , had bcon assigned by Miss Grey to Peggy for the "orphan asylum." Under one of the A^indows was a heavy iron balcony, from which they could look hito the small gardens of two old residences, and t!ien olf at tho distant harbor, where wl>ite sails were always Happing impatiently, or quiet ships lying at anchor, as if resting after long and ^eary voyages. From this balcony, after tho simple lessons of tho morning wore over, tne humble teacher could always see something which suggested a subject of instruction to her little charge. One day she would tell them all she knew about the waters, and explain tho power of Him who holds them in tho hollow of His 334 ^^ |i^'"'"i!yi!>f ' ^'jv»'i}y'i i ii "U'i)' Y'8. tho liouse ly to Peggy one of the from which ions of two tho distant lys flapping t anchor, as •y voyages. lessons of ible teacher suggested a ttlo charge, ill she knew ue power of illow of His 334 PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 235 hand, and who fashions and preserves tho myriads of fish that fill them. So the trees, and flowers, and birds, few though they were, seen from a city window, were turned into teachers for the unfolding minds of tlie tlioughtful little girls. Having noticed the delight they took in flowers. Miss Grey, who had now fully re- gained her health and spirits, resolved to grat. ify their delicate taste. So she had deep wooden boxes, filled with rich earth, fixed around the three sides of the balcony by iron rods, and stocked with potted plants in bud or bloom. The intervening spots were reserved for seeds, that the children might watch their growth from the first tender sprout to tlio gor- geous blossom. On the balcony were two little chairs, with books, toys, and materials for dressing dolls, when the lessons and tlie half-hour's task at needle work were over. It was the summer school-room and tlio playhouse; a place of never failing amusement. One morning, as Bessie sat hemming a I '■ H;" ' » ! -j ir-. jjw.wmv. ' !"" 236 OEMS OF THE BOO. coarso towel, her little sister, who was on her kiicca gazing earnestly into the black earth in " the garden," as the boxes were called, sprung up, exclaiming, " Oh, see ! God has put life into one little black seed, and given it a tiny green head, and it's just pooping up. And look, He's turned that red bud into a flower in tho night ! " Miss Grey, who was in tho room at tho time, consulting Peggy about some of her charities, stooped to look, and then said, " Yes, that U one of the seeds you called ' black peas,' a sweet-pea. It will grow into a delicate vine, and by-and-by have fragrant flowers." Peggy sighed heavily. "You're not sorry the poor little pea has broken its shell and come to life, I hope, Mis- thretis Sheehan, that you heave such a sigh as that? " asked Miss Grey. « No, ma'am, I'm glad for it, and for the children," — Peggy had ceased saying " chil- der," and many other Irish words, — "but sweet peas and pinks always bring back the past to my heart. I had scores o' twigs stuck j»j.,l Jn^IkAk-L *-<*fc. **• -^ mm^ PADDY MANNON AT MISS ORET'S. 237 lo was on her •lack earth in were called, God has put nd given it a peeping up. 1 bud into a a at the time, lier charities, ' Yes, that is jlack peas,' a delicate vine, jrs." little pea has 3, 1 hope, Mis- Buch a sigh as b, and for the saying " chil- \rord8, — " but ring back the o' twigs stuck hp in my little garden, and routid each one I'd plant a ring o' swcet-pcas ; and they'd climb up and cling to the twig and blossom till they'd fall over with their own weight. And the pinks, too, how Mammy Honey used to love them ! " " Are the pinks and sweet-peas all there now, and nobody to love them, mammy ? " asked little Marion. " I don't know, darlin', but I think they're all dead," replied Peggy. "Is every body dead there?" she asked again, leaning on Peggy's shoulder, and strok- ing her cheek tenderly, as she always did when she saw a shadow pass over her face. " No, darlin', I hope not," answered Peggy, lifting the child to her knee and resting her check on ^he bright little head. " Then why don't we go there, and plant the peas and pinks again ? Can we go some time, mammy ? " " Perhaps, darlin', if God bids us ; but we can't tell. We've a far finer home here." " No, Marion," said Miss Orey, " I can't : ^ i ■■I 288 GEMS OF THE BOO. spare your mammy. Wl.at would blind Patty doifsLe did not visit licr and read to her? And how would .Id Molly keep her knitting women quiet for an hour to hear about Christ, if mammy was not there to give them yarn and tea, and to get their love ? I can't spare mammy when I'm sick, and tired and lonely. There's nobody in the world loves her as much aside; and nobody shall ever have her who doesn't love her." The children had heard stories of Killy- rooke, and of Mammy Honey, and of Paddy Mannon, but never of John. They looked on the place as a paradise of cows and calves, of hens and chickens. « Go now to your bedroom, and sing your dolls to sleep, darlin's, till I call you," said Peggy. When they were gone, she said in a low tone to Miss Grey, "For ten days I've been sore hindered in my prayers by Satan, o' whom I'm greatly afearod. Perhaps Pvo Binned, for I've long ceased to pray that I might go back to die in my own cottage. I've I blind Patty •cad to her? her knitting about Christ, them yam I can't spare id and lonely. 1 her as much liavo her who .ries of Killy- and of Paddy Ijcy looked on md calves, of and singyovir all you," said said in a low days I've been by Satan, o' Perhaps I've to pray that 1 a cottage. I've PADD7 MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 239 looked on all of arth as lost to me, only for the good I'd do, and I've prayed only for John's soul, and not that ho might bo brought back repinting and seek mo out, and bo his old self again. 0' late, when I'd be on my knees, a question would rise, * Can ye forgive as ye hope to be forgiven?' And I'd say, 'Yea, Lord.' Then I'd ask my heart, ' Could I feed her that destroyed my peace war she hungry, and give her a drink war she thirsty ? ' And again I said, 'Yea, Lord.' Tiion came the question, ' Could ye go back to ycr homo and be the same lovin', true wife, and forget the past, if God bid ye ? ' And the very thought put me all a tremble. If I should but see John's face I'd fall dead at his feet. And I couldn't say 'yes,' to that. So I've an un- broken will yet left in mo." " I would never let you do that after the ill usage you have had," said Miss Grey. Ah, dear lady, but think what a little I've been called to bear. Scarce a harsh word from one but the poor blind Papists over the road, till I got this piercing o' my heart that nriw>'4fi >»T i^-tn ^ 240 QEMS OF TBE BOO. drove mo here. And mind what Josus Him- Belf suffoicd. Ho war abused and insulted by the great, and deserted even by Hia followers that he had chosen out o' the world, that He loved with an everlasting love. And yet hear Him on the cross : ' Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.' " "Well, I shall not be anxious till I hear that you're sent for — which will never be. For if ever that man repents, he wiU bo ashamed to ask you back," said Miss Groy. " I had a bit o' a dramo last night," said Peggy. " I thought I was standin' in a gar- den, when I heerd a soft voice call my name as Mary at the sepulchre ; and like her I turned mo about and said, ' Master.' There stood the Master Himself, and He had my poor wan- derer fast by the hand, holding him up. I took the other hand in mine, and forgot we'd ever been estranged, and as tho Blessed Ono left us I saw His footprints like shinin' silver, and in striving to follow in His steps and to lead the wanderer on, I woke. For a little time I was troubled thinking p' the past, but M^ mmmmmmm. lat Jesus Him- and insulted by f Ills followers world, that He And yet bear brgive them, for ious till I hear will never bo. nts, he will bo I Miss Grey, last night," said audin' in a gar- call my name as like her I turned There stood the i my poor wan- iing him up. I , and forgot we'd the Blessed Ono ,ko shiniu' silver, His steps and to oke. For a little ig o' the past, but PADDY MAyirON AT MISS ORET'S. 241 before the light came in at the window the groat- peace was back again in my soul, and I've not thought o' the drame since till the little lambie asked, * Can't we go there and plant the flowers again ? '" " Misthress Sheehan," said Miss Grey, " do you not think you are doing far more for the suffering here than you could do — even if all was well in your own home, — cooped up la that little hamlet among those debased Papists who will not hear you read or listen to your advice ? " " Well, perhaps, ma'am, but I can't tell. I made a happy home there, and strove to do a little outside for friend and foe. Killyrooke is a small place, but it's full o' souls ; and ye can never know bow Mammy Honey loved them and longed for their salvation." Tlic conversation might have gone on longer, but for n bustle and a sound of laughter in the hall outside the cbambor door. After tapping, two maids, redolent with smiles and blushes, appeared together. Each was ambitious to tell the news first. 16 /- i 242 QEM8 OF TUB BOG. " Well, what's tliis trifling about now ? " asked Miss Grey, without a smile. " Please, ma'am," they both said in a breath. " Susan," said the lady, " be quiet, and let Mary tell what's going on." "Please, ma'am, yon queer dressed farm- man,— the little man in the big clotlics, — is come again to see Misthress Shechan. When I opened the door at his ringin', he was sitting on the steps untying his wooden-soled brogues, and he took them in his hand and walked into the passage in his stockin's. He told us to say to Misthress Sheehan that 'one Paddy Manuon was wantin' to spake with her.' " Miss Grey glanced at Peggy, whoso face was as white as marble, and asked, " Shall the man come up ? " " Yes, and plaze, dear lady, tarry yo too, for I'm just faintin' at thought o' what has brought him. May be his masther's dead." " Oh, no fear of that," said Miss Grey, almost sarcastically. "This ridiculous fellow has taken the journey, as he did before, merely to see you. Here ho is." • pwi'^i i ""^ 00. g about now ? " kilo. said in a breath. JO quiet, and let er dressed farm- big clotlics, — is Slieoliau. When u', ho was sitting en-soled brogues, 1 and wallted into . He told us to tliat ' one Paddy I with her.' " y, whoso face was ,sked, " Sliall the y, tarry yo too, for ;ht o' what has Esther's dead." I Miss Grey, almost iulous fellow has 1 before, merely to PADDT MANNON AT SflSS ORET'S. 243 Paddy, with Iiis shoes in one hand and his stair and bundle in the other, came a step or two into tlie room, very shyly ; but catching a glimpse of his mistress in her black dress and Ii.r muslin cap, he was so overawed by her gi aiuleur, tliat ho stepped back again into tho passiigc. Miss Grey said, " Corao in," but it was not till she rose and opened tho door that lie ventured to do so. Then ho exclaimed, in woiulcr,"Pd niver a knowed ye, dear. How white yer hair is gettin' with the throublc, and how grand yo look in tho fine clothes ! Sure, yc'rc dressed like Misthress Murray herself." "Paddy," asked Peggy, i,i a tremulous tone, " is all well with yo ? " " 'Dade it is, misthress, and better too ! " exclaimed Paddy. " Lay down yer stick and give me yer hand, my poor friend," slio said. This done, Paddy's sudden reserve gave way, and he said, looking first at one of his listeners and then at the other, « Pve fino news to till ye. The O'Gormans is all dead and in the workhouse, and their cottage 844 OEMS OF THE BOG. burned. We've been convartcd at Daisy Farm, and we've confissed our sins, and ro- pinted o' the same, and got back into the church again, and walked into tlie pew by the side o' Mr. Murray, after gcttin' lave of Elder Peter, and yon one's gone oflf to work in the mills, and the clay floor's all scraped by thim two liands" — which he held up, — « and the flax wheel scoui-ed with soap and sand in tlio loug'.i, and tlio flax that was on it burnt up, and tlio ashes thrown into the dipths of the Bea, and the vines all trimmed up, and flowers growin', and a pot o' scarlets, sint by his river- ence, in the little glass windy, and two young deers, a o-ift from the hall, and a sittin' hin with wurteen fine eggs under her, and himself, the rocsther, all dros'>o.l in his hist clothes sLi..u' waitin' to see ye back, and I'm sint for ye." l>-dd/ scarcely took breath during this speech, which he delivered in such an excited manner as to lead Miss Grey to think him crazy. But by degrees, and after many ques- tions, Peggy got the whole stDry out of him. ..« ^ i i ir i i<..id»w ii i > iii" ;^- to. PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 245 irtcd at Daisy iir sins, and ro- t back into tho tho pew by the ill' lave of Elder J to work in tho scraped by thitn 1 up, — "and tho and sand in tho 1 on it burnt up, he dipths of tho id up, and flowers , siut by l»is river- y, and two young and a sittin' hin ■ her, and himself, I his bist clothes , and I'm sint for oath during this in auch an excited Jrey to think him I after many ques- itDry out of him. " And what message did Mr. Murray send by yc, Paddy ? " slie asked. " He bid ye come back," replied Paddy ; " but here's a letter from Mr. Murray himself to Miss Grey. But I it was that complated tlic work, though I never told it afore. I gavo Kitty Connors half i.iy last quarter's wages to fill yon one's head with tho fine time they'd have at the new mill where herself was goin' to work, and to take her over thero to a dance they liad afore the openin'. They war gone a week, and it was one long holiday to them, and life at tho cottage looked dull beside it. So I it was that did, in the latter end, what tho dead misthress said Pd do — do ye mind ? " " Yes, Paddy, I mind, but I'm bewildered oulirely now, and can not think. But why, when yer masthcr has caused all this sorrow — look at my white hair, and me only at middle life — if he has repinted, why didn't he come himself instead of sending ye ? " " Because for two Reasons. Tho first was, he was afeared o' Miss Grey, the fine lady; I ■f^-^ flf" 246 GEMS OF THE BOO. and the sicoiid was that I wouldii;t sjiffur hiin, but was dctarmiiied to come mysilf, as I prom- ised yo. Didn't yersilf till me whiniver I see my mastlier broke down and Immbled, to coine afHr ye raysilf ? " " Zos, Paddy, but I little draraed it would take four long years to bring l»im back to his sinses," replied Peggy. *' She can never go back," cried Miss Grey. " Your master does not deserve such a wife. And how could she ever live in that crazy old shieling, after passing four years amid such comforts as these ? " " 0, dear heart, the comforts would niver cost mo a thouglit," replied Peggy. "I'm bound to yo by a thousand cords o' love ; but if I could know the groat Masther's will Pd do it." "But, Misthress Sheehan," said the lady, " think of tlie children ; but for you I should never have taken this responsibility. I can leave them nothing, as this property all goes to nephews at my death. But if you romaiu, you can fit them to earn their bread in somo re- .MlMt(»j*'*.««^«- ' ■MMtv f- mm BOG. •uldii;t sjiffur hiin, mysilf, as I prom- rae whiniver I see humbled, to coine draraed it would a bim back to his ' cried Miss Grey. iserve such a wife. a in that crazy old years amid such iforts would uivei led Peggy. " I'm . cords o' love ; but [asther's will I'd do n," said the lady, it for you I should 5ponsibility. I can property all goes to if you romuiu, you f bread in some re- PADDY MANNON AT MISS GREY'S. 247 Bpoctal)le way. Otherwise, they will be cast on (ho world when I am gone." " Dear lady," cried Peggy, " when I tuk the Iambic.^ to my lieart it was for my own. I will niver ".ast them off. Wiieu I go, they will go too," " You may go now, my good man," said Miss Grey, " and get your dinner at an inn. Tiien, if you are not too tired, you can walk about and look in the shop windows till bed- time. Hero are two crowns to pay for your diiuicr and your lodging. You can come back to see Misthress Slicehan to-morrow." Paddy drew his hand behind him as far as possible from the proffered silver. " I'm not a poor man, lady ! " ho cried, rais- ing his head till it came almost above the col- lar of his coat. " I'm a man as can command my own price, and gets thirty-five shillings a quarter! I'm not a child, to accept pence, but a man, with all the money I nadcs, and pliiity to spare to the poor ones. And more nor that, ma'am," said Paddy, with a low bow, " if it's iver yer fortiui' to walk from Killy- i i i 248 QEMS OF THE BOO. rooke to this city, yo'll be glad enough o' a bed, 'stead o' stariu' in at shop windows ! If I ouco gets into a bud at the inn I'll bide iu it a week. I came after my misthress, aud not Bcekiu' shows." When Peggy had Paddy alone the next day, she said to him, " I can not go back with ye, poor, faithful boy. Ye see how I'm fixed here with the little ones ; I could not leave them, nor yet could I take them with me without yer masthcr's lave. Tell him, Paddy, I've long ago forgiven him, and that I've been just suro that God would, sooner or later, bring him to Himself, and lot mo take him to Mammy Honey at last. But tell him that after all that has passed, himself, and not ye, ought to take me back to my homo, that my neighbors may see that ho desires mo there, and loves me still. And toll him, Paddy, that o' all tho fine things I'vo seen here there's nothing so beauti- ful to rao as my own little cottage, and that I can return and bo the same faitliful wife as I Ivor was. And toll him that tho peaco o' God still 'bides with my sperit, and that through all t »a.«« i i» i mi'i« l '« »« » wmm. ad enough o' a windows ! If I n I'll bide iu it a sthress, aud not lie the next day, go back with ye, w I'm fixed here not leave them, mo without yer 'addy, I've long e been just suro Qr, bring him to liim to Mammy hat after all that re, ought to take r neighbors may e, and loves mo lat 0* all the fino othing so boauti- ttage, and tliat I faithful wife as I the peace o' God . that through all PADDY MANNON AT itI88 GREY'S. my sorrow the lovin' Master has been iver at my side, -thai I almost see Him by mo now. And 0, rjady, don't ye be so plased about yer poor masther's bcin' convartod as to forget that ye too have a soul, and that it's as worth savin' as his. Remember all this, Paddy, if I shouldn't see yc agin alone." ^ Notwitljstanding Paddy's noble independ- ence, ho consonted to stay three or four days at an inn at Miss Grey's expense. He also do- Bccnded so far from his dignity as to yield tho controversy he had kept up with the post- chaise and horses, and to compromise matters by riding home with Barney, the wagoner. But he was sorely humbled by the result of his mission. Ho had gone forth proud and boast- ful, taking to himself all the honor of tho good work at the cottage, and saying, " Tliere's just but only one man on the round arth tliat can bring the jewel back, and that' man's mysilf — Paddy Mannou. And look out for the day ye SCO U8 rotarnin' together triumphant to Killy- rooke!" Poor, crestfi. ju Paddy! All he p^ Kl 250 OEMS OF THE BOG. had gained personally by his long tramp was Bore disappointment, deep mortification and aching limbs. ^^ Wlien be readied " the turn of the road where the wagoner set him down, he seated himself on a pile of stones, saying, resolutely, "Now, Paddy Mannon, sit here till ye die, afore ye enter Killyrooke alone. My heart's broke hi my bussum ; yis, tin times broker nor it war tlie day I laid my jewel Meg in the grave, intiroly. Here I'll 'bide and die o' ather hni.gor or starvation. And then the ministhor, and Elder Peter, and the miserable masthor will cry tears above me, and say, « There war a fine, faithful lad ! ' Farewell to ye, ilegant green arth and blue skies ; fare- well, craturs I've fed and housed so tinder; farewell, Masther John, that's been the dith o' poor Paddy. Dig me a grave beside Meg, and let mo hide mysilf in it afore any body in Killyrooke will taunt me with the disgrace o' comin' back alone, and nobody with me! Those is the last words o' Paddy Mannon, late 3ng tramp was ftification and I of the road " )wn, lie seated iug, resolutely, ire till ye die, le. My heart's mcs broker nor b1 Meg in the de and die o' And then the id the miserable , me, and say, 1» Farewell to ue skies; fare- used so tinder; been the dith o' beside Meg, and »re any body in I the disgrace o' body with me! Idy Maunon, late llllpnHilMBIIRPW PADDY MANNON AT MISS GRET'S. 251 of Killyrooko, parish o' Cloynmally, county Connaught, Ireland." Tlio first twinge of hunger, — the seat of that malady being tlie most sensitive part of Paddy's system, — drove all sentimentalism out of him; and about an hour after he had uttered his « last words," ho' took up his stick and bundle and mado his way to Cloynmally, and delivered Miss Grey's letter to Mr. Mur- ray. That gentleman saw no cause for such deep gloom as Paddy's, and told him "that his mistress would, doubtless, be at homo in a fortnight, with tbe two little girls. Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, " Yo've not seen yon Miss Grey, that has the kapin' of her. To hoar her talk, ye'd think the worst evil that could befall a woman was to have a husband at all. She ivident hates the whole nation of men, and was but barely civil, aven to mysilf. I'll nivcr face Masther John with the bad news." Mr. Murray offered to go homo with him, as Miss Grey's letter was for his master's benefit, and must bo read to him. It was like the sur- 252 0EM8 OF THE BOO. geon's lance, severe, but potont ; and both de- cided that, painful as it would be, John him- self must go for Peggy. t i .<;■- ':. :>:f^ amamr . miimmtuimm* ■inpm '■:?.. CHAPTER XXII. A HAPPY " HOMB-BRINOma." IT was true, as Paddy had stated, that Miss Grey was no admirer of " the nation of men." She had seen poor specimens in her own family, two sisters having married men who spent tlieir money and then broke their hearts. So she had steeled her own heart against the sex, even in her charities. But the deep humility of poor John, and the solemn awe that marked his face and his voice, when he came for Peggy, touched lier, so that the rebuke and the advice she had in store for him were all forgotten when they met. She soon ceased to think of him as the vile wretch she had almost hated, and found herself listening with tearful eye to the simple tale of his wanderings and of his conversion to God. She now acknowledged him as a 903 I 1 f sti GEMS OF THE BOO. brother, and spoke of him as " poor Sheehau," and not as " that miserable man." Sbe be- came so softened towards liim that, groat as was the sacriEce, she consented cheerfully to Peggy's departure. She promised to provide for the little girls under her charge until they should be able to take care of themselves. Not to make the change too great from tlie pleasant chambers where they now lived, she insisted on sending to Killyrooke a load of furniture, bedding, books and toys by Barney's wagon. - > V "Sheehan," she said, before parting with the family, " as you are not a poor man, I'm going to make a request that may seem strange to you. I don't think that cottage of yours is good enough for such a wife as you have. You must add a room to it, and lay a board Hoor there, and put a glass window in every room. I shall send the ' asylum ' carpet for the new room, and the table, and the chairs; and do you make Misthress Sheehan as comfortable as possible, and see that the little girls help her in every way they can." A HAPPY " BOME-BRlNOINa." 255 jor Sheehau," an." She bo- that, groat as [ cheerfully to jed to provide irge until they of themselves, jreat from the now lived, she oke a load of jys by Barney's e parting with poor man, I'm hat may seem that cottage of li a wife as you to it, and lay a glass window iu asylum ' carpet table, and the sthress Sheehau ind see that the ly they can." Juhu expressed his gratitude, and promised to make the improvements she suggested. But Peggy's pale face flushed as die said, — "But, dear Miss Grey, I'm afeared about the carpet. Perhaps the poor things that I'm hopln' to benefit there might think me proud, and so grow invious ; and I dar'u't do any tiling to drive them from me. I've great hope I'll do them good, and so must be just one o' themselves still." "Don't tell me that!" cried Miss Grey. " I know more of human nature than you do, Wistross Sheeliaii, and I know that the igno- rant take instruction more kindly from supe- riors than from equals or inferiors. And, al- tliough you were not a whit above themselves, they'd listen to you with more respect in your black dress and your muslin cap than in the old linsey-woolse) and cotton. When the car- pet is laid, rid the new windows put iu, there's no doubt you will have admirers enough. And thoso who come to gaze will stay to listen." " But, ma'am, there's not a carpet in the mUKMkm ^ 256 OEMS OF TOE BOO, town only at tho ' Hall,' and the priest's, and the minister's. Mrs. Murray has but one, - iu her best parlor," said Peggy. "Well, you deserve as good a carpet as Mrs. Murray, and I shall not let you go till you promise to put it down," said Miss Grey. Peggy consented, but not without some fears lor her influence in Killyrooke. « And when ye send me garments to make for the little maids," she said, « ye'U remcm- Ver that they'll be just poor people's children, ana ..ot send things too fine, to make them- Bclvcs vain or others invious." " Certainly, Mistress Sheehan, it is all im- portant that they are taught their position now Keep them always in neat pinafores at school, and in plain, comfortable dresses and hats at church. Train, and feed, and dress them as if they were really your children, and I will Answer for their being good women," said Miss Grey. ^ « Ay, dear Miss Grey, they are tho makm 8 o' lovely women by natur'," said Peggy, " and 3. le priest's, and has but one, — )d a carpet as lot let you go wn," said Miss without some •ooke. irraciits to make i, « ye'll romcin- )eople's children, , to make tliem- an, it is all ira- it their position neat pinafores at able dresses and feed, and dress our children, and g good women," ;y are the makin's said Peggy, " and A HAPPY " nOMEBRINGINa." 257 tlic comfort they have been to me in my sor- row is wonderful. I've just tlic love o' a mother to them, and many the time I've thought that all that's been allowed to come on me might yet work out for double good to them and to us." "I believe," said Miss Grey, "you were truly sent hero to school — to be fitted for fu- ture work. You have becu a faithful learner. I dou't believe your old neighbors will know you as the sliy woman they knew four years ago. Do you remember how you sufiered wiieu my poor mother insisted ou your read- ing the Bible aloud to her ? Now you can read to half a dozen without trembling, or s])elling, cither." - Peggy smiled, and replied, " Yes, and not stop at the long words, ather, as 1 did then. I wonder ivery day how iver ye bore with ray shy, stupid ways in thim days, and shall strive to return yer kindness by makin' good use o' the tachin' I've got in this blisscd home. And if sickness or sorrow come to ye, remem- OEMS OF THE BOO. ber yc'vo always a sarvant to bid to ycr side iu me, — day or nigiit, ma'am." When arrangements were being made for tbc journey, Peggy begged to go back in Bar- ney's wagon, as she should feel easier there than if crowded- up among strangers. Beside that, she wanted to see the kind man •■> in, and to tell him that the Providence he had called "luck" had made all bright with her, as he had prophesied. As Miss Grey declined the honor of having Barney's establishment drawn up before her door to receive four passengers, he was or- dered to take the furniture and luggage; and the family walked on and seated themselves nx his high wagon, when he arrived at the mn where he always put up. The greeting between Barney and Peggy was like that of old friends, and as soon as they had cleared the stones of the city streets, Peg.ry introduced John and the children to him%nd asked very kindly after his wife, m whose sorrows she had felt so much sympathy. ■f- pmpMwi MM OG. Did to ycr side in being made for go back in Bar- feel easier there ;rangers. Beside kind man « "in, ovidence he had I bright with her, honor of having vn up before her ugers, he was or- ind luggage; and ited themselves in irrived at the inn tarney and Peggy Is, and as soon as 1 of the city streets, id the children to [y after his wife, in 80 much sympathy. A HAPPY " HOMEDRINGINO: 259 " 0, she's well," ho replied. " Yo mind 1 wiis telling ye yon day what a sore heart she had about the little fellows wo buried, and how t;ikcn up she war with you Methodises in our town ? " "Yes." " Well, when I returned home after dis- chariring ye at the lady's door, I told her all about yo and yer throubles — the cause o' which I didn't know. I told her what ye said about ' hick ' bein' the hand o" God, and about the great [)cace ye'd got in yer own soul, and the good advice ye gave me about uiy soul. And what does my wifo do but go tell it all to the Methodia' ladcr, and the next meetin' they had, they all fell to prayin' for ye, and to givin' thanks for the marcy o' God to ye in yer sorrow. They culled yo right out by name, and first one prayed that yer sorrow, whatever it was, mig< t work for yer glory, and then another that yer ' .;. 'Jays might be ycr usefulest and \\p ^^'ui&i day *. If ye'd been one o' thimsiives, '.ear Ik rt. they couldn't made more izoisf? a', nut it,' id Barney, who I 2G0 OEMS OF THE BOG. bad put the reins in John's hand that he xnight turn round and converse with Peggy. ^^ "lam just one of themselves, dear man, Bhe replied. » All who love the Lord are just te hoV, and Christ is our head. When yo ,0 back, tell them dear saints that the Lord L taken away my grief, and that rm now blessed with two davlin' little ma.ds as war „.otherless afore, and that He has gnen mo such a power o' courage that I can spealc, and read, and sing to as many neighbor-women as .miisten to me, about Christ. But, greater norai,IVegottl.e blessings o'.alvat.on for ,„y husband, the son o' the holy woman I told ye of; and we too are now to strive for Uke Lrcy for our neighbors. And tell mo now, how is it with yer own soul?" upoor enough," replied Barney, "as far as being convarted goes. The wife talks much like yersilf, and has joined herself to than Methodises, and is soro worried about me She confisses that I'm another man from the onoo'pastdays;fo. I've uiver swore an oatl. Biuco the day I promised ye I wouldu t, and ,j;i|Hg M : jtJ ?Hll W »»M'»W"»»'' 'a liand, that be :sc with Peggy. Ivea, dear man," the Lord arc just head. When yo uts that the Lord ,ud that I'm now ttle maids as war He haa given mo it I can speak, and neighbor-women as irist. But, greater igs o' salvation for holy woman I told ,w to strive for lilce And tell mo now, I?" I Barney, " as far as lio wife talks much nod herself to thira worried about mo. nother man from the uivor swore an oath I ye I wouldn't, and A HAPPY " nOMEBRINGINO: 261 I'm strivin' not to hate tho Papists ; but that's harder nor givui' up the swariu', I'm doin' all in my power to be a Christian, such as will suit my wife ; for beside wantin' to go to heaven at last, I'd bo glad to make her liappy, for slie's had a soro life o't, poor thing, one way and ajiother. But for all my tryin' it's a small headway I make, this fov." " Then stop tryin' to quit this and to do that, dear man," said Peggy. " What would yc say to a wagoner that was trying to make his journey by whippin' dead horses ? " " I'd say ho war a fool, intiroly," replied the wagoner. " And yet yo're doing just that same. Ye'ro dead in trespasses and sins, and yo're whipping up and cheerin' on ycr dead heart and dead will, hopin' they'll got yo to heaven liy-and-by. Now quit this folly, and in yer dead and helpless state go to Christ for life. It's by Ilim, and not by onv dead selves, that wo make this journey, or else we'll fall by tho road and porish. Now if one promise made to luo isas liolpod yo to keep from open sin, <..,. 262 OEMS OF TBE BOO. „»ay be another will bclp ye to Christ. Will yo cease striving to make yersilf holy, and go to Him just as ye are, and beg for a sheu-em His holiness? He has plenty o' it to dmdo among us all, and then have pcrfcethohncss left. Will ye go to him thus, and not u.suU Him by expectin' to get credit for not profan- ing His holy name, and the like wickedness ? " I will," said Barney, in a subdued tone, u And give my love to yer wife, and all the Methodises, and tell them the Lord heard them for mo. Vorhaps H.o times 1 ve bem. lifted above all nrll.nnd felt like them that wan takouou to the mount with lumself and BawIIis glory, wuH just when they was plead- ,,^, ,,,, ,„., It's a short road that's between them that's separated, when that road lies past the mercy-seat." . John, who hud many times i«tl«n tbo rems i„„iHlerM.and while he wiped his tearn away with the right, turned round now and asked Foggy, "Couldn't yo sing yon hymn o Charles Wesley's to the good man ? " . Ay, if bo'd like," said Peggy, " aud liUle 4^^ m A HAPPY " HOME-BRINGINO." 263 9. J Christ. Will If holy, and go for a share iu o' it to divide perfect holiness 8, and not insult for not profan- ;o wickedness ? " subdued tone, wife, and all the tlio Lord heard times I'vo been It like them that with himself and m tlicy was plead- ad that's between that road lies past 08 iakofi the reins pod liis tears awny ind now and asked ing yon hymn o' :)d man 1 " Poggy, " aud little Bessie may put in with her swate voice, too, for she's lamed it lovely." And they sang, in clear, sweet tones, — " Depth of mercy ! can there be Mercy still reserved for me T Can my God his wrath forbear, Me the chief of sinners spare T " Before Peggy's departure from her house, Miss Grey had written to Mr. Murray ask- ing him to receive her at the " turn o' the road," and while they were lumbering on in Barney's wagon, talking and singing, Paddy was waiting by the heap of stones where he had uttered his " last words " several days before, with the donkey wagon. When they came in siglit, he, in true oriental stylo, lifted up his voice and wept. He took Peggy and the little girls out of the wagon in his arms, and in his foolisli joy attempted to do the same for John ; but his love couldn't work miracles. After an alToctionate farewell to Barney, Peggy was sur- prised to see Mr. Murray standing near them. With a kind greeting, ho said, " Mrs. Mur- lay scuds mo to bring you all to her for a cup MH -f- ■k 264 OklUS OF THE BOG of tea, and then you can walk to tlio cottage in the evening." Tliis was an act of condescension which hronght blushes to Peggy's cheek, but notic- ing how Paddy's counteuanco fell, she was going to decline tho invitation, when Mr. Murray said, — " And Paddy must come back when he's taken home his load and put up the donkey. Kate and Tim will be glad if he'll join them at a cup of tea in the kitchen." Paddy's face was radiant with smiles, and bowing almost to tho ground, ho exclaimed, *' Yer riverenco is a jintleraan, and I'll l)« back in less nor an hour — as soon as Pve milked, and daconted myself up fit for the honor, in my bist shuto." A smile passed over the faces of the little group, and thus encouraged, Paddy caught off his old hat, and striking a heroic attitude, spoke the following " varses " .mpromptu : •• When from her home the misthress wint. Poor Paddy howled a loud laralnt ; And all the time she war away, Bhe aarvod a lady named A. Iss Grey. A HAPPY " homebrinoinq: 265 isceusiou which heek, but notic- fell, sho was ticn, when Mr. back when bo's up the donkey. ' ho'U join them vith smiles, and i, iio exclaimed, , and I'll 1)0 back as I've milked, for the honor, in aces of the littlo Paddy caught otf heroic attitude, ' .'.mvromptu : nlsthress wint, imlnt ; ly, 88 Qrey. " And in thim four long, cruel yean Paddy shed buckets full of tears; Ilia checks grew thin, his hair grew gray. His sinses well nigh flew away. " So often Paddy told his beads, He wore thim down to mustard seeds; He nather laughed, nor ate, nor slipt. But howled, and sighed, and groaned, and wipt. " But now the storm is passed away. The misthress comes again to-day, Long shine the sun on Daisy Farm ! And keep the cottage safe from harm. " Here Paddy throws his beads away. And from the misthress lams to pray ; No more a Papist lad he'll be. But Protestant, as all shall see." And witli this pledge he took aim and threw his beads as far as ho could down the road, and then hastened homo with his load, that he might prepare for his return to the parson- Wiien the moon ro80 high, shedding a silver lijj;ht over the landscape, and giving a charm even to the poor cottages on tlio road, the littlo family, accompanied by their faitliful minister, walked from Cloynmally to the cot- J J OEMS OF THE BOO. tage. John carried the eldest child in his arms, while Paddy brought up the rear with the other on his shoulder, galloping and oc- casionally neighing like a horse for her amuse- ment. When the neighbors saw a light twinkling from the cottage window, and heard the voice of prayer and praise ascending on the still air, they knew that old things had passed away, and that all things had become new '-here. CHAPTER XXIII. THE NEW LIFE AT DAISY FABM. TO the little girls, who had rarely seen a green field, Killyrooko, with its acres of flax and barley, was like a picture of fairy- land. The low, rude cottage was a wonder to them, ;ind the flowers and vines about it wore a source of perfect delight. Tlie greatest charm of the place, however, was the " life " it contained. They wore allowed to stroke the necks of Silverhorn and the Maid of Long- ford, to feed the calf and the lambs with meal from their own hands, and to ride on the donkey's back. Before they had been many days at Daisy Farm tlisy went to the mill with Paddy, seated on the bag of barley in the donkoy-cart, and during the ride were entertained with mar- velous stories and wild Irish songs. When 967 i I 268 OEMS OF THE BOO. John asked Marion which of all his « ciaturs" she liked best, the door, or the calf, or the lambs, or tlie cows, or the donkey, she replied, innocently, "Oh, I like the funny, kind man the best of them all, - dear Paddy Mannon." And from the hour of their arrival at the cot- tage, Paddy Mannon became the nurse, the palron and the hero of the children. He would not go to mill or to market without them, and insisted that the cows stood more quietly while he was milking " if the small bit girlies were aside thim with their soft voices." • He soon grew so proud of them that he overcame his fear of apostasy and of Father Clakey, and went to the Presbyterian church with the family, to hear what people said about the little new-comers after service. When P iggy began life again at the cottage, her Bible was kept open on a little table in her kitchen. She told her neighbors, who dropped in one by one to welcome her back, that she should read aloud from it every day for an hour before sunset ; and that if any a. I his " ciatura " 10 calf, or tho :ey, she replied, mny, kind man addy Maiinon." ■ival at tho cot- the nurse, the children. Ho market without 0W8 stood more "if the small with their soft f them that ho r and of Father byteriau church lat people said er service. n at the cottage, a little table in neighbors, who ilcomo hor back, rom it every day and that if any THE NEW LIFE . T DAISY FARM. 269 among them wished to hear the Word of the Lord they might come witli their knitting at that time. If they had not yarn, she offered to supply them ; and also to set up stockings for such as were not knitters, and to teach tliem to shape and to narrow them off. As Miss Grey had predicted, the simple people looked on Peggy in her new attire and witli her new confidence, as a lady who had seen the world, and all questions were soon referred to her for settlement. It was marve- lous to see the errands which were made to tho cottage just before sunset by such as were too timid to accept her invitations. Ono camo to borrow a measure of meal or a few eggs, another to ask what would cure the toothache, and a third to inquire for tho health of the two little girls ; and once there, they remained to hear Peggy read. Thus, from beginning the readings with John, Paddy and the chil- dren, she scon had a dozen listeners. Some- times they would ask her questions, which gave her opportunity to explain tho passages she read — which were usually from tho life •Tt/^temmkaMKin ^^■■flii SfO OEMS OF THE BOG. and the teachings of Jesus. She had learned many sweet hymus, with tunes now to them, to which they listened with great pleasure, and not a fe« of them began to long for an interest in the love which had upheld their neighbor in her sorrows, and which now added such charms to her simple life. During these readings, John always sat with his face buried in his hands, as if in prayer. His riauncr was ever marl~'-ir---.y^-^^^y^;\.'Ki^iije,.j^,^^^^^ ■■i^irriit(i>:"*or.-^-"^"i '■■ ■.■-nJ'i.-S** -i'^. iv-.^.V.v c t^m^mm^Bim MMI ,0. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) O 7 1.0 Ji' llllitt If" 1^0 I. , I.I 1.25 1.4 — 6" Photographic Sciences >rporation IM M 1.6 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER. NY. 14580 (716) e7a-4S03 L., ■^■■■■WffjTW M ■■i H, lP» J. i* f i| W ^ * > .V i |". ,1 ---'- V ^ X ' JM ^ > '<" 'W^.. ut tliorc is One wbo lias a .till higher claim on mo tban you have ; and to Ilim I mado vows, as solemn as eternity, in an hour of deep anguish. I was on the brink of ruin, and bad ahnost ijrought disgrace on you, when God laid I His hand on me, stayed mo in my mad career, and hrougbt me to my rigbt mind. Those vows I must fulfill, botli from honesty and from a llove which draws mo in tbo way of Uis com- |mandmcnts. I implore you not to tempt mo Voni Ciwist by suggesting tbat I am cold and jugrateful to you. I enjoy tbo comforts of l» «mxsK^:nfP!' r 290 GEifS OF TUB BOO. wealth as much aa any young man can do, but were the choice force.l upon me, I would rather be a beggar followu.g Clirist, than a priuco with my back turned upon Ilim." " Your sisters can never induce you to ac- company them to rout or play ; but you have plenty of time to bestosv on people wh.o have uo claim on you," said the father, severely. « Every body has a claim on mo, father," replied the young man," and when those I lovo ot, home will not listen to me, I must seek out those who will. Our family friends would sconi mo and perhaps refuse my visits were I to re- mind them that they were mortal and needed an Immortal Friend. But our draymen and coopers listen respectfully when I -peak to them of their souls, and they read what I give them, and go whore I request them, to hear the ' Word of God preached." « You never caught this spirit of fanatici^n from my friend Murray ; for although ho was a church-menfber when wo were young to- gether, ho always remembered that ho wai^ a gentleman," said the old irau. mmmmm oa. man can do, but ,c, I would rather ;, tViaii a prince in." idiicc you to ac- y ; but you bavo people wl'.o have thcr, severely. n on mo, father," when those I love s, I must seek out •lends would sconi isits were I to rc- lortal and needed our draymen and when I r;poak to 3y read what I give X thcra, to hear the spirit of fanaticism ir although ho was JO were young to- i-od that ho wac> a an. A CONSEC'ItATED LIFE. 291 " 1 hope I shall remember that too, father," replied tiic son. " You did not see Murray waylaying work- men, and rniining to night services when you were with lum, I'm very sure ? " asked the father. " lie did what he could in that way, but the lower classes about him are all Papists, and tlif^y shun him as if he were a foe." The father remained silent a moment, and then, as if a bright though*^^ had just struck him, ho said, " Well, if this course appears in the light of a duty to you, why not take orders ? A clergyman stands in the foremost rank of society, even though ho be as poor as tho mouse in his church, and with your wealth you would doubtless get speedy preferment. Your sisters accuse you of " preaching " now ; why not make that your profession and take some prom- inent living?" " Father, should I do this, it would not bo in the church of your choice, nor yet among peo- ple who have rich livings to bestow. But aside from this, I feel that my duty calls me to a f -i- r 292 OEMS OF THE BOG. business life. I have never had a call to tlio ministry." " A call to the ministry ! " rc-cchocd the oM man, who had probal:ly never heard the expres- sion before, " what have you ' had a call to,' pray tell me ? " " To make money, and with it, as well as with all my powers, to glorify God Avhilo I live," replied the young man, solemnly. " Do not tempt me to play traitor to the King I have chosen to rule over mo." " I will do nothing to vex you, my son," re- plied the old man, " even if my heart and my hopes are all crushed. You are a man, and must -,hoosc your own road in life. God bless you, my boy, whatever way you go." And taking out a large gold watch with much jingling of chain and seals, ho wiped tears from his eyes before he could see the hour on the fair dial plate. Then he took his hat and went out to make his usual morning round among the works; not to sec what was doing, as there were men paid for that purpose, but to inspire the workmen with an awe of his dig- ,...«;*---ivr.-. -■..««»'-iO!*W-r,f«ttsflM iOO. lad a cnll to tho re-ccliocd the old heard the cxprcs- a ' had a call to,' ith it, as well as rify God Avhilo I 1, solemnly. " Do to the King I have you, my son," rc- my heart and my u arc a man, and ad in life. God 'cr way you go." [ watch with much Is, he wiped tears d see tho hour on ( took his hat and al morning round ce what was doing, ;hat purpose, but to m awe of his dig- A CONSECRATED LIFE. 203 nity ; and also to encourage each of them by his bland smile and his cheerful " Good-moru- uig, my man ! " When the letters by the morning's mail wore laid by a clerk on the desk before tho young man, his eye brightened at sight ( one in Mr. Murray's well-known hand. The very address gave comfort to his tried spirit by an assurance that one still lived who could enter into and sympathize in his trials. He tore it open as if he knew it held tho balm lie needed al that moment, and read therein good news : " My Very Dear Young Friend, — When I siiw your name among the passengers in tho 'Iris' I first thanked God for your safety, and then took my pen to welcome you home, and to tell you the ' good news from a far country,' which I fear missed you in your wanderings. You remember I told you I should call Killyrooke your parish, and that 1 would be your assistant there. I blush when I remember that I strove to discourage you in your efforts for poor, fallen Sheehan. God blessed your work. He was saved, and tho 1 ' ■'■ ! »ii?Ja^i>MJ.- ' .»«»'R» «'-ya re a a« v,t»ia ti ! »'* ' « ' 4Jitiv vir' ' 294 GEMS OF THE BOO. desolate arc brought togcthcv into a happy and godly family. " Your success in gaining tlic cars of tlicso poor people has convinced mc of the utility of lay preaching. You, with your blue coat and white hat, were welcomed where I would have been stoned. You were listened to as a young gcnlleman, while God's more public servant was looked on as a wily heretic secli- ing to delude their souls. You did more for poor blind Killyrooke the two weeks you were with us than I have been able to do in all the years I have labored at Cloynmally. I have already reaped the first fruits of your labors there. I have received into my church, and administered the Sacrament of the Lord's Supper to, old Monica Burke, long a roadside beggar of little fame for honesty ; to the former bar-maid of the poor little inn; and to the wife of Sullivan the poacher, — tho woman whose heart and arms ached from emptiness after the dead baby. There was great joy ia the church over theso poor souls. <' Yv^hen John Shoehan, ' your joy aud your Boa. icv into a happy tlic cars of tlicso mc of the utility th your bluo coat cd where I would ere listened to as jod's more public wily heretic scck- You did more for vo weeks you were le to do iu all the oyninally. I have lits of your labors ;o my church, and int of the Lord's ke, long a roadside esty ; to the former nil ; and to the wife - tho woman whose emptiness after the it joy ia the church ' your joy aud your A CONSECR.iTKD LIFE. 295 crown,' brought back his wife to the cottage, it was as if he had introduced an angol into tlic poor hamlet. She had gained much ir- formation, and had also overcome, to a sur- prising degree, her natural shyncsa by her intci-course with Miss Grey and her poor Chris- tian pensioners. She at once set out to read tlic Gospel to her neighbors. But thoj^ wero soon forbidden to hear the Bible read. She then, with strange wisdom, selected such hymns and psalms as form a body of divinity ill themselves ; and by coaxing, and sometimes hiring, she fills her little room every evening with poor lost sinners, and to them she sings the Gospel. They learn the tunes and Jio words, and carry ihcra home and sing them at their toil ; and thus your work is going on here. " The ungodly sec little cause for our rejoic- ing over these few poor wanderers gathered into the fold, thinking them small gain to any church. But you and I, who know the esti- mate Jesus puts on one immortal soul, know there is joy in heaven over them. Tho poor ■ <» ^ jM»al^JfU ■^l !. ^ g^^.^^<■^ti, ^! ■^s,: ' -^ ' ,, T 'l .^. ^^ ;|,' ■J lMi!^V 5 ..f,. ■s^rsfw* 206 GEifS OF THE BOG. heart-broken lady at the Hall is in sore need of the synipatliy of Jesus, and is, I hear, fully convinced of the vanity of her penances and of the mass. But alas ! she could never Htoop 80 low as to hear the Gosncl sung in a thatched cottage, and she dare not hear it preached in a Protestant church. 'Position' keeps licr in darkness, while these poor wo- men walk in the light. That little hamlet will be depopulated ere long. Tlie gentleman at the Hall, sorely embarrassed by high living, has let the cottages of the tenantry, as well as his own grounds, run to ruin; so the poor people are emigrating to America as fast as they can get money for tlio passage. The seed which Peggy is casting forth in lovo and faith will thus be scattered, and bring in a harvest in the New World. '" I have often been perplexed to know how to regulate the matter of amusements for young Christians, so that it might not clash with the injunction, ' Whatsoever ye do, do all to the glory of God.' Your course has settled the question. It is ' for the glory of f^:S«^.«Pt««MMEi^^^r»&1WJBMaJIHASW^il .WW*J««?BS!K«,*ePMKWtSB59»e?r? ■ too. is ill soro need 1 is, I hoar, fully cr penances and ould never Htoop )spcl sung ill a larc not lieur it ircb. 'Position' c these poor \vo- lat little hamlet Tiie gciitleinaii d by high living, laiitry, as well as in; so the poor nerica as fast as ssagc. The seed u lovo and faith •ing in a harvest ;ed to know how aniusemcnts for might not clash oever ye do, do four course has for the glory of A CONSECnATED LIFE. 297 God ' that you keep the delicate frame Ho has given you in health and vigor hy manly exer- cise. As your calling has not led you to find this in labor, you have sought it in athletic games. Now that all your powers are conse- crated to God, your skill at those games is turned to account for His glory. Through quoits and ball you gained the cars and tho hearts of those poor fellows at tho lough. Hereafter, when any one asks me, ' How far may a Christian enter into worldly pleasures ? ' I will say, ' Just as far as he is sure he is thus promoting the glory of God. When con- science tolls him that ho can honor Christ by going to the play or the dance, let him go there. Otherwise he will by going get harm to his own soul and stumble the souls of others ? ' Your skill at games gave you an influence over those people, and enabled you to talk to them of heavenly things. That in- fluence has extended to me, so that I can now drop a word when I meet them, without fear of abuse. I believe those ' boys ' with whom you met would read any book you should send Tsasm;ffiecM!>3S^tje2-s;^K»n*rf? 298 OEMS OF THE BOO. them — if fortunate enough to read at all. Come back at your first leisure, and visit your huml)lc little parish before it molts away, and I will show you a wonderful change in the home of poor humble Sliechan. That foolish fellow, Paddy, says he is a Protestant now, and ho attends service regularly with his master. Tlie account he himself gives of the cluinge is, that when he was homesick after his mistress, he vowed that if ever she camo back to iiim lie would toss up a penny to decide the matter of his religion. He did 80 just before she came. Tlio result turned him from the faith of his fathers! Do you not think that many wiser men than poor Paddy stake their religious principles on ground as small as that ? If, in your labors in the city, you meet with those who dare not .cad or hear the Bible, sing the Gospel to them. Would it not be well for us to avail ourselves of poor Peggy's invention, and through music to draw the poor end the needy where they can hoar tho swoet Bound of tho Gospel ? " Boa. A CONSECRATED LIFE. 299 I to read at all. re, and visit your t inclts away, and ful change in tho lan. That foolish J Protestant now, cgularly with his imself gives of tho as homesick after if ever she camo is up a penny to religion. He did Tho result turned fathers! Do you ir men than poor )U8 principles on ity, you meet with or hear tho Bible, WouM it not be 38 of poor Peggy's ic to draw the poor an hoar tho sweet Ten days after this letter was received by the joung man, the family at the cottage were surprised by tho arrival of a box full of books and colored cards from Mr. Murray's friend. Tliesc were to be scattered by Peggy among — so he wrote — " my friends in Killyrooko." Many of the young men, proud of the honor, vished to know what the books contained, but not being able to read, were forced to go to IVggy and John, who held themselves ready lor the work. Both Bessie and Marion were brought into the service, and there was more reading in Killyrooko in tho next ten days than there had ever been before since the first poor cottage was built there. ■.Jrt*^«iBV«Miil«*(«p»j<«i*Pte*; S-- pr~ CHAPTER XXVI. VISITS PROM FRIEND AND FOE. ONE pleasant aftornoou iii the early autiunn, as Peggy sat at her wheel by the open door of her cottage, she was surprised by tho arrival of guests in a smart juunting-car. They were no other than Barney and his wife, who fjor the first time in their married life had set out on an excursion of pleasure. There were no cold rules of etiquette to bind down the warm-hearted hostess ; and, forgetting that she had never seen tho wife of tho " dear wagoner," she rushed out to tho gate to wel- come them. " Ah, good woman," cried tho wagoner, " ye BOO it's true that ' birds of a feather flock to- gether.' For tho last while Fvc jist been long- ing to have a word with ye, and to thank ye for tho throublo yo took about my soul, and to 300 ! ,> VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 301 fD FOE, ! early autiunn, 3I by the open urprisei by the t jaunting-car, ?y and his wife, narricJ life had loasure. There 3 to bind down , forgetting that of the " dear tlie gate to wel- le wagoner, " ye featlior flock to- jist boon long- and to thank ye my soul, and to 300 tell yo that I'm jist one o' ycrsilvos now ! And liore's my poor Mully, a thankful crotur iis lives, and as lovin' a one too. She's never asked high things o' tiie Lord in this world, but what she has asked He's bestowed on hor and on mo ; and we're come to bid ye re- joice witli us that we, poor lost sheep, is brought into tlic dear fold." Peggy folded the wagoner's wife in her arras and imprinted a motherly kisa on her pale chock, but, without speaking to her, con- tinued her conversation with Barney as ho hitched his horse to the donkey-post. " And how do ye feel towards the Papists now ? " she asked, as if trying the genuineness of his re- pentance. " I loves ivory one 0' them, from the Pope hisself down to the mancst o' my inimies at homo ! Fd travel from hero to Limerick on my knees, if by so doin' I could open one pair o' blind eyes to see tho marcy I've seen in tho sinners' Friend," lie replied. As thoy entered tlie cottage, Paddy, who bad been drawn from tho garden by their joy- 809 OEMfi OF THE liOG. fill voices, joined thoin, ami taking off his hat mado a low bow, ami .-^aid, " I'm at yor sar- vico, and ycr harso's sai-vicc, too, good wa<,'- oncr. But afore yo cuter, will ye let ino have a word o' ye ? " Tho wagoner stepped haclc and inelincd hia head towards Paddy in the attitude of a lis- tener. But Paddy was a man of deeds as well as of words ; and he suri)rised the strar.gcr by stooping down and catching up one of his feet in his hand. Then falling on his knees, ho put his head down so low that he could exam- ine the sole of his brogue. " 1 only wanted to see,"" ho said, with a confidential wink of his little gray eye, " if yo had hobnails in yer shoes ; because if ye had, Pd bo to pound them down afore I let ye into our cottage. We've grown very fine since first ye saw us, and we has a carpet on our floe-, and carpets is not for men as wears hobnails in their soles, yo know. Te're all rijlit ; so walk in, and a wilcome to yo ! Yis, yis ; it's fine indeed that wo are now— atin' with our tables covered with white cloth, 'stead o' bare. There's not r'!??^>■•!r^1rW^"X -.«! ■»■«.: «tr---aa««>«««!9«iw»- »d inclined \m titudc of a lis- f docds as woll tlio stranger by one of Ilia feet his knees, ho !ic could exam- only wanted to ;ial wink of his lobnails in yer to poimd tliom ottago. Wo'vo saw us, and wo carpets is not their soles, ye mlk in, and a Pino indeed that tables covered B. Thoro's not II f » l ! .»l |I H i nL < !.J I " ? VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 303 a one like us but only the minister and the priest in all tliese parts. But for all tliis, wo kapos quite liumble, and treats daeent poor people with duo civility; so don't be afoarcd, but wipe yer feet well and tliin just step on the carpet as if it were no better nor a clay floor. Isn't it a fine thing to be kept tliis humble when we're grown such grand folk ? " And for two days these humble souls, witli a few Christian friends who joined them from the little band in Cloynmally, " did cat their meat with gladness and singleness of heart, praising God, and having favor with all the people." The girls wore now so large and so capable, that they relieved Peggy of nearly all the care and work, both in the cottage and in the poul- try-yard. What they could not accoraplisli Paddy did, so ho felt groat pride in boasting that " his darlin' misthress didn't have to lift her finger oidy to plaze herself." But with all this freedom from toil, Peggy was not tho woman to sit down in idleness. Tho love in her heart always supplied work for her hands. i 4. 304 OEyfS OF THE 300. Late one suinincr aftcfuooii, Bessie and Marion were sent off to search for tlie duclcs, wliicli liud, of late, fallen into roving iiabits, often leaving " the fine aceominodations " Paddy had provided for them, and seeking company at a large pond half a mile from home. As the girls tnrnod into a qniet la:io loading to this duck-pond, they saw two women sitting on the grass enjoying their supper ; and yet they were too well dressed for beggars. They talked and laughed very loudly, and as the girls approached, one called out, " Arn't ye Shcchan's girls ? " Be°-sie modestly replied, and then expressed her opinion to Marion of the way in which the stranger spoke of their father. " Siie might at least have called him ' John Slieehan,' she said." " Come back hero and tell us about yon Miss Grey. Do she sind ye money by the liape, or do the old fellow fade and clothe yo hissclf? " cried one of the women. The childrou were startled by this rudeness, '^■'WmXal&MMX' ' oa. )oii, Besslo and cli for tlie ducks, to roving liabits, scominodations " m, and seeking alf a mile from ;iict laiio Iciding fo women sitting supper ; and yot • beggars, Tlicy idly, and as tho out, " Arn't ye I then expressed way in which tho r. " Slie might in Sliechan,' she U us about yon 3 money by tho idc and clothe yo nen. by this rudeness, VISITS FROM FRIEND AND FOE. 305 and replied, " We're in haste, as we're bid to be back to our supper." "Ocli ye arc! Well, thin, pass on, fine liulies," cried the woman. "I suppose that great lady, Peggy Sheehan, forbid ye to snake to j)oor folk." "Ecssic dear," said Marion, "I've talked twice with yon woman on tho road. One day, you mind, I told ye she said she know my own niotlicr, and that Miss Gre;^ bid her come to see ns." " She was jesting with you, dear," replied Bessie, "but may be she's the body that mammy's so ill pleased to hear mentioned for what reason I don't know. Perhaps she's the one that gave you the locket long ago, that mammy l)id ye never speak to, but run from. A rough body surely she is, and very unlike om- mammy." And chatting together, they reached the pond, and saw their ducks, with a largo party of friends, on the other side. It was a lonj^ way round, but they were forced to go on or return without them. The shadows were fal- 20 S06 OEMS OF THE BOO. ling, and tlioy begun to feel alittlo timid, wlien, to their great joy, tliey saw Timmy, the son of Elder Peter, coming towards tlicm. lie liad been a most tender and affectionate playmate of Bessie for years. It seems that Timmy, now tnrncd of seventeen, did not partake of his father's stony nature, but gave the elder great annoyance by spending his pocket money and his time for the girls. The elder had long a5il*s5W«g3};- - 00. VISITS FROM FlilEND AyD FOE. 307 ittlo timid, wlicn, umy, the son of them. lie had tioiiate j)laymato US that Timmy, , not partake of t gave the elJcr liis pocket money The elder had have " no stuff" chastise Timmy 12 himself. " How ■ tlie lad's left to llant, or a lover, Ig must sure have ae far-back body his father never ad a cottage to bo ;o cook him a di..- i' a fool o' himself i' wakeness for the lany threats, lildcr lau to mortify the lud ill a manner tliat should tcacli him a lesson. So lie took him out of tlie " classical school of Maurice Dolaii," and put him into tlic girls' scliool taught by his own sister, willi a cliaigo to her " to set liim in between two little maids wlienever he needed punishment." Strange to say, Elder Peter's medicine was too mild for the disease. Timmy was now in liis clement, wedged in between his admired Bessie Sheehan and anotlier pleasant child not Ro old. If his fatlier liad found it hard to keep liis finger on Timmy out of school hours before, he found it still harder now. IIo walked from Cloyiimally almost to Killyrooko, cither " after flowers, or four-leafed shamrocks, or something else," every night, till the elder took him out of the girls' school and sc'it liiin back to Maurice Dolan, with orders to have the rod laid on if necessary. But Maurice was young himself, and he saw no great crime in plucking flowers and hunting four-leaved sliamrocks with schoolmates or friends. So Timmy escaped [lunishment altogether. Hard as Elder Peter's nature was, he had a \. ji .tF2«a:t-'»tf«wp*«i» ^«.,^.^t ^ 808 GEMS OF THE BOO. very tender spot in his licart for Timmy — Ills one, only child. Knowing how hard his own trado was, he had resolved tliat Tiinmy should have an easier one — perhaps be a tailor. Against this decision Tinimy rebelled most vigorously, declaring that he would either bo a stone-cutter or a farmer in America, and ho dutifully suggested that if his plans were inter- fered with he would run off and go to sea. And that boy's threat from time immemorial, had as groat an effect in restraiiiing Elder Peter from carrying out his plans as if it had never been uttered before. Marion, who preferred the ducks' company to Timmy's, walked on ahead scolding them soundly for the evil ways into which they had fallen. Thus the two lingerers had a rare op- portunity to make complaints and to reveal plans, without a third person to listen. Bessie remembered her sad early life among tlie baby boai'ders, where she was forbidden to laugh or to play, and perhaps it was this wliich had given a tinge of sadness to her disposi- tion. It certainly was not that she felt depres- too. for Timmy — his \v hard liis own at Tiiniuy should ips be a tailor. ly rebelled most vould either bo a America, and ho plans were inter- id go to sea. And immemorial, had ning Elder Peter 5 if it had never ducks' company id scolding them I which they had rs had a rare op- ts and to reveal to listen. 1 early life among was forbidden to it was this wliich is to her disjiosi- at she felt dopres- F/Wr.S' FROil fniEND AXr> FOE. 309 8od by her connoctioti with the Slieehans ; for so closely had Pog<;. QOINQ TO AMERICA. 315 more than just Cillyrookc ? " s just qucstiou. table, she said, now how's dear vin' friend she's [no go and pre- had Miss Grey till 'ailed them, that the tall lor bedside were rice, and a little lus to settle on asked. " Peg- or grieved you ? can speak noth- iie, and faithful, and she turned a jut, she is wefvry land, and is rest- less to follow the crowd to America, and my ill-art would die without her smile." Tlie poor girl hung her head, expecting a rebuke, but, to her surprise, Miss Grey said faintly, " I'm glad she has ambition to better her lot. Ireland is ground to the dust by a double oppression, and is no longer tho place for the young. If all go who can pay their way, there will still be more left than can earn their bread, and many of them must starve. If you and John should follow mo to the grave soon, what would these poor children do in that desolate hamlet ? I should bo well i)leased if part of Bessie's portion be fipent in getting her to America. Place her with some trusty friend who is going, and at tlio end of a year you can go to her, or she can return to you if not happy there But Marion was never so staid as Bessie ; keep lu'r close to your own side. Do not lot her «i't)ss the water unless you do." IVggy turned very, pale at these words, luit Bessie, overcome with joy, burst into tours. m h 816 GEMS OF THE BOO. " Might I make bold to ask," said Peggy ; " have yc ivor got any account of their mother or father?" " Never, and I feel very sure both parents are dead," rcidied the lady. " Why do you worry yourself about them ? I told the woman you sent to ask, that you must never think of tliera, l)ut enjoy the children that God sent so mercifully into your kind hand." " I sent no woman, dear heart, nor man, Jiather," replied Peggy, in surprise. " One came with questions, she said, from you. I sent replies by the nurse, but did not sec her myself," aiiawcred Miss Grey. " Well, it's quite mysterious entirely ! " ex- claimed Peggy ; " but ye are now faint, dear, with the talkin'. Pll send all away and sit this night by yer side, and as many more iiigbfs as yc'll suffer me, but niver, nivcr can I re[)iiy yo for all tlio love and marcy yo showered on mo thim days." • Miss Grey rallied after this, and there being no need of Peggy's services, she insisted on her returning to Killyrooko. GOING TO AMERICA. 817 said Peggy; their mother both parents Why do you d the woman !vcr think of God sent so 't, nor man, lO said, from •so, but did 8 Grey, itirely ! " ex- r faint, dear, iway and sit many more sr, nivcr can 1 marcy yo • [ there being insisted on Some bird of the air — if not Paddy Man- non — soon dropped a hint in the hamlet tliat " Miss Grey had left a great fortun' to the girls, and had ordered that Bessie with the gold open out in her hand should set sail as soon as she pleased for America." Peggy no longer tried to dissuade Bessie from her purpose, but suggested the subject of a family emigration. " Yo see, John, darlin', how the people is tliinnin' off, and how few is left here. What would ye say to us all goin' ? " Paddy sprang to his feet, and catching his hat off one peg and his staff from another, ex- claimed, " I'd say ' yis,' and bo off by the sun risin'." " Whist, Paddy," said his master, " and don't 1)0 spakin' when yor. not spoke to." And turning to Peggy, he exclaimed, " Whero would be our gratitude to God as has watched over our crops and herds, and given us plenty while others is starvin ? ' Could ye lave the dear grave and all the poor souls here without a one to care for them ? " 318 GEUS OF THE BOO. P " Shu ! slui ! " cried Puddy, " tl>o grave will take care o' itself, and as for tlio few souls here, there's none left tliat'a worth lookiu' afther. See, dears, I hecr,d at the black- smith's that all Ireland's goiii' soon, and thin we'll be left quite alone entirely, and, " " Paddy," cried John, as sharply as ho could say any thing, " if ye don't be quiet when yer masther and misthrcss wish to be talkin', PU send ye out to the cow-house with yer * stirabout.' " " And," continued Paddy, nothing daunted, "they said that in England the quauo was payiii' the passage o' whole shii>loads o' her paupers to get them to that fine country. And the 'Miricans ia that glad to get them — bein' all rich thimselves, and not a one to give their charity to — that they bo standin' on the shores, waitin' the ships to come in, and thin they fight to see who'll git the paupers to fill their fine empty workhouses." Peggy and the girls laughed, but John cried, sternly, " Will ye bo quiet, Paddy ? " "And," continued Paddy, deaf to aL\ re- OOINO TO AMERICA. 319 ' tl>o grave will tlio few souls worth lookiu' at tlio black- soon, and thill , and, " sharply as ho don't be quiet CSS wish to be cow-house with ithing daunted, the quauo was lip-loads o' her ; fine country, to get them — at a one to give standin' on tlie no in, and thin ) paupers to fill l»ed, but John it, Paddy ? " deaf to aL\ re- proof, " I shall soon be ashamed to hold up my liea.l in Ireland if the very paupers can go and not wo — siicli a fine, rcsplctablo family, — there's not tlic like of us in that country, thongh some of thira's richer nor we. Wliiii ^^^1I we start off, dears ? " ho cried, implor- ingly, " I'm afeared folk'll think we can't raise tlio passage-money." After a free discussion of the matter, it was decided that Bessie should go witli the Widow McRca ; who, after residing in America several years, and doing well jn a little store, had re- turned to Ireland for lier children. Bell, and Rose, whom she had left with a sister in Cloynmally. If, after a year's trial, Bessie was happy, John promised to sell the lease of the farm and join her with the fiunily. Few poor girls ever set off from that pov- erty-stricken land with such preparations for comfort on sea and on land as were made by the loving Sheehans for Bessie, who was the light of their eyes and the pride of their hearts. After all was done which the tcnder- est love could prompt, Mr. Murray, Elder 820 GE3fS OF THE BOO. Peter, and others of the little church were scut for, tlio oveuuig before Bessie's depariiire, to comineiid lier to the care of ncavou, and to ask God's mercy on llie lonely licarts she was to leave beliiiid. And in that hour this be- loved child was committed fully to the care of a covcuant-keeping God, for life or for death. When the tears were all shed, and the farewells all spoken, Peggy and Bessie and Marion set off to wait the post-chaise at Cloyn- mally. The loving Peggy had determined not to part with her child till the water should separate them. John dared not trust himself to go from the cottage with them. Several of the little church were waiting them at " the turn o' the road," and there was Paddy, from whom they had just parted at the cottage ! Ho had run across the wet bog and got there before them. And panting and sobbing, he cried out : " 0, Erin ! (that's the grand name for Ireland) swate Isle o* the sea ! Hinchfor'arJ no flowers shall blosshom on thee ; Thy herCiS shall be dead, and thy birds nivcr sing, Thy fowls shall bo hatched without feather or wing. 0-ho-ne ! i*J*ll.i.'>iKa9«ia?iR..iiwirTT«:7i--s'53««»'*~'-— ^- ■v...jLAaaajiM.*rf.i^.,4.^w^ ^-i^--,Yy)'B*''SJWKiM6» it cai! it idc open, il way yo ibcr God • mother, the older Q relieved f lying or ^s, ' lie's a »' liis own es3 about 11, when I giithcr all sow dolls, ' a sheep,' , with the work hard Is mo go to )t do it if I my bones, 10 or yet on lorioa, too! A PAINFUL PABTINO. 327 That 1 will. If the elder likes to go with mo lie's wilcome, for laud's plinty there, and if not, he'll just have to 'bido where ho is." "Ah, Timmy, my lad, yon's no way to spake o' tliim that's ilono so much for ye, and that's so proud o' ye," said Peggy. " Who's proud o' mo, Misthross Shoehau ? " asltcd the boy. "Not my fatlier, sure; he's Boro ashamed o' mo, and always askiu' mo wliy I arn't like Ned McGco and the Carney lads ; and they goes about nights howlin' like boars, and stonin' old women's cats, and the like. And all the trifliu' /does is to whittle thread-winders, and gather flowers, and buy sugar plums, for the girls ; and for that ho calls mo ' a sheep.' No, none is proud of mo, but one loves me, —that's my mother." " Dear lad, Elder Peter is too proud o' yo for a Christian man. He's never dono tellin' o' yer fine lessons and yer honest behavior; and both himself and Mr. Murray is just quito proud o' yer Latin larnin', hopin' yersclf will bo a schoolmasthor yot," said Peggy, trium- phantly. I I . % \ ' m 828 OEMS OF THE BOO. Timmy laughed outright. "Latin is stuff for tho like o' ino ! I'm not tho makiu' o' a scholar, and if 1 should even drag on at tho book till I'd got a school, woe to tho urchins bcnath me! Tl»i» great power o' strength that's within my bones must como out and strike somewhere ; if not tho stone or tho land, then on the boys' backs. Spake yo, that has such power over tho elder, and strive to get the harness off my showlders, that I may be a man as well as look like one. Hero am I, more nor seventeen years old, and yet askin' my father may I do this or that to arn my bread ; and so doin' just nothing at all. I'll 6ure be ' a sheep ' at this rate." Peggy promised him her influence ; and while they were talking thus tho post-chaise drove up. They took their jJaces on the top, and were off for tho home for which Peggy's heart was yearning. She was hoping the love yet loft her there might fill the blank just made by Bessie's departure. n is Btuff lakiii' o' a oil at tho 10 urchins strength e out and • tho laud, I, that has ivo to got ; may bo a [ero am I, yet asltiu' to am iny t all. I'll 3UC0 ; and post-chaiso )n tho top, ch Peggy's g tho lovo blank just; CHAPTER iXIX. STOLEN BY THE FOE. PEGGY had left Marion in care of tho cot- tage, with many charges to " be tinder o' her poor, lovin' father, and civil to Paddy, and to have all things shiiiin' on her return." Childlike, Marion had dried her tears, and begun to picture to herself tho beautiful tilings which Bessio would send her from America, and to anticipate her own voyage tliitlier. She was a great "tease," and was already laying plans to worry the indulgent, easy John into speedy preparations for the change. l>y dinner time she was singing about tho cottage as merrily as if no empty seat were tlnn-c, and as if tho pillow beside her own were sliU to bo pressed by tho bright head which had used to lio there. 330 330 OEMS OF TIIK liOO. Jo]^ aud Paddy had at loiigili dried their tears, aud gone to work in a licld at somo little distance from tlic house. Towards nightfall they heard loud voices in Mio direc- tion of tho cottage, and then shouts and cries. " Whist, Paddy," cried John. " What can yon noises bo ? " " Och," I'cplied Paddy, coolly, " it's on'y some o' our neighbors bating tho life out o' a few o' tlieir spare childer. When my milkin' time comes, I'll go up and quiet the distar- bance." John smiled, and as tho voices ceased ho thought no more of the circumstances till he returned homo and found the stool and pail be- side a half-milked cow, but no supper ready, and no bright little Marion waiting at the door to welcome him. He called her loudly, and went from room to room through the cottage, but in vain ; all was silent there. His alarm was increased by Paddy coming in from tho yard, whither he had gone to milk, holding up tho little rod shawl Marion always woro at -„%' Wiw t ma wBi»feiai>M>aaiiaiS»'' STOLEN BY THE FOE. 331 •ied their at somo Towards ho dircc- outs and Vhat can it's on'y out o' a y inilkiii' 10 distar- eased ho OS till he d pail bo- or ready, : the door •udly, and cottage, [lis alarm from the oldiiig up woro at niilkiiig, and crying out, in a tone of agony, " Wiicrc's our child ? Tiic gypsies or the evil .sperlts has stole her away, and left midniglit iji my soul. Ohone ! who'll give mo my child afore 1 dies o' fear ? " Jolin grasped the little kerchief, and hold- ing it up towards the light, gazed at it as if ho liopod there to read the mystery of her ab- sence. Jacob did not look more anxiously at tlic coat of many colors. Tiie two ran from house to house in great alarm, hoping to learn the child's Isito. The ncighl)ors had heard a noise, but " thought Piuldy was batiu' the boys who had stolon his dncivs, and that the cries camo from them." They almost ridiculed the fears of those two strong men, but tlicy joined in their search through bog and wood, and finally wandered toward tlie lough. One persoi; had see a strange man and a woman in black talking with .Mfirion at the cow-yard, and another iiad seen a strange horso and jaunting car standing at the end of the lane ; but that was all. f I i •I f 332 QEAfS OF THE BOO. There was little sleep that night in Killy- rooke. John and Paddy, weeping like children and acconijjanied by a band of pitying neigh- bors, went from house to house, blew the horn and dragged the lough. While the men were abroad, the women, each with her rush taper in hand, went to the cottage to gossip over (lie mystery. In their womanly tenderness they forgot all differences, and all forgave Peggy for her neat dairy, her glass windows, her table-cloth and her carpet. Two boys who had been dispatched for Mr. Murray now returned with him and Elder Peter ; the latter, though somewhat anxious about the fate of his own heir, took good care not to allude to it, lest he might expose the weakness of his family government. Scarciiing proved all in vain ; so the neigh- bors dropped off, one by one, till only Mr. Mur- ray and I^ldor Peter remained. " Have you no suspicion, John, where she can bo ? " asked the minister. *■ vmisimMsialti^^-xmimi.:' ;lit in Killy- ke children tying ncigh- 3w the hora ;he women, went to the J. In their differences, neat dairy, h. and her led for Mr. and Elder lat anxious k good care expose the ) the ncigli- ly Mr. Mur- , where she STOLEN BY THE FOE. 333 " Niver a one," replied John, shaking his head mournfully. " And how'll iver I meet Peggy after betrayin' her trust thus? " " You, perhaps, have some thought about it, Paddy ? " asked Mr. Murray again. "'Dade, thin, I have a fine thought jist come to me," replied Paddy. " But it might be oncivil to spake o't hero, as I'd bo to name one I'm forbid to spake about." "Speak out, Paddy," cried John, "and let's have none o' yer long talks or yer non- sense in a time like this." " Well, Mr. Murray, sir," exclaimed Paddy, "it is jist this: Three nights agone I war in at the horse-shoer's ; and more men war there ; and in comes the inimy o' this house and this name, and she in black wades, to be sure! And the men all asked her where did she live, and what did she work. And och, sorra me ! didn't I, as war forbidden o' my misthress to look on her or to breathe her name, like the fool I bees, go talkin' to her ? " She asked mo about the fortun' Miss Grey gave the ohildern, and where was the f im nt ^ m 334 OEMS OF THE BOO. gold kept ; and I told her in a belt about tlio darliii' childor.s' waists. And she asked l)y what vessel would Bessie go, and who would go with her, aud all that like. " She said herself was goiu' to America as soon as the passage money was ariicd ; and that now, in the mano time, she was about the country sarviu' a society o' holy ladies in the great city, by layin' tax on the people and col- lictin' money and orphints for a new 'shylum they war buildin'. Ochloch! if that same sarpint with a human face has stole off our jewel ! What an illigant orphint she'd be to ornamint a 'shylum with ! I belavo yon one's got her by my folly. Och, ye miserable man, Paddy Mannon, will ye nivcr lam wisdom by the sorrow ye bring on yersilf and others ! " " Paddy, did you tell any one that the child- ren carried Miss Grey's gold about them?" asked Mr. Murray. " Dado I did. I heerd my misthress say she was scwin' Bessie's up in a belt for her to wear about her waist. And she always trated the twos quite aqual, so I thought Mar'ou's gold .__ ,;;;»«SP"" STOLEN BY Tim FOE. 335 It about tho asked by Ijo would go America as arucd ; and IS about the idics ill the iplo and col- Q\v 'sbylum ' that same stole off our slie'd be to vc you one's serablc man, 1 wisdom by otbors ! " lat the cliild- )ut them?" iress say she • hei' to wear s trated the [ar'ou's gold would be there, too; and that if yon one thou<;bt to steal it, she'd find it unpossible I " Tlicre was now a loud knock at the door, and Paddy leaped half way across the floor to o|(cn it. Tlicrc was Father Clakcy's honest old face, flushed with excitement and terror. At siglit of him, Paddy darted back more quickly than he had gone forward, and hid himself behind the rough settle on which John was seated, for this was the first time siiici> lie had left his flock that he had met the priest face to face. Whenever ho had seen him coming down the road, he had always foiuid it convenient to run into the cow-house and draw the wooden bolt behind him, or to hide under the hedge. His allegiance was broken, but his fear remained. " Any news yet, friends, o' the pleasant child ? " asked the old man. " I've a sore fear on my heart that evil's come to her tlirough the mad boasting o' this fool, Mannon. Come out o' that, ye miserable crctur," cried the priest, striking a heavy blow on the back o' the settle. Paddy shrieked as if it had fallen on i * , ^ I 336 GEMS OF THE BOO. liis licad, but did not appear. " Como out and tell what ye rcvalcd to you woman in black, after yo loft tlio smith's sliop wIkm-o yc were boastinj^ about the ^^i\A. I'lu tuUl, sir," lio f-aid, addressing Mr. Murray, " by th:! man o' the Bhop, that tins woman followed him out, talkin' with him, till he got afraid o' her and ran homo over the fields." They could hear Paddy's loud breathing and almost the l)cating of his heart; but they could not get him out of his hiding-place till Mr. Murr.yv took a seat on the settle and bade him come and sit beside him, promising that no man should lay a hand on him. Then the poor fel- low crci)t out, pale as one of his own ghosts, and whispc" d, " I knows uo more ; I's toid yo all." " What did yea woman say to yo, Man- / on : •' cried Father Clakey, stamping his foot on the floor. •' She — -Jm — och ! she said she war akin to our chil — childer ! that hcrsilf was ather tlielr mother or their cusin, — she'd forget which! But that beiu' their kin, she'd get oaougli o' tl i\ i%i\f*AZ -■ ,^^^S&^i^-J^^*^ '^aSs&^Sy-*'SS!ar'';V<'iSi.. -j.sm STOLEN nr THE FOE. 337 no out and II in bluck, yo wcro d, sir," Ijo ho man o' (I liiiu out, o' her and iatliin<; and tlioy could ;e till Mr. 1 bade him hat no man 10 poor fcl- \vn ghosts, I's told yo ) yo, Man- iig his foot war akin to athor tliolr got which ! enough o' tho gold to carry her across tho soa, — what- ivcr ! och ! my heart ! " " And why, then, didn't ye tell this at ouco to yer misthrcss, yo miserable loon?" cried the priest. " Bckase, yer, — yer rivcrenco, she said if I'd tell a word she spake, she'd bate me aforo all tho boys ! So, so, out o' silf-rispect I hild my tongue ; and see ye all what's come o't. Is there no world on this arth that we can 'mi- grate to where she'll not be ? What's Ivor tho use o' goin' to America now, and her there ? " " If this family lave their native land, I'll advise thim to lave ye in it, Mannon.' Tho House o' Corriction is the place for yo, with wit enough to do evil, and not enough to do good," said the priest. " Please, sir," said John, « he's a paceable cretur" and would lay down his life for the childor." " More's the pity he hadn't done it then, 'stead o' betraying one o' them into the hand o' an emeny. Yon evil one is no doubt by this time off with yer child, unless she larns there's 93 iffl >yjwg>«*" wi^ ' .' ^'^-"'-'^-'^' JU«-^ 338 GEMS OF THE BOO. no money about her ; if she find that out too late, she'll set her adrift iu a strange place. Though if she had tlio two in America, she'd make capital out o' them. ;— Heaven help then the fine rispoctful things they war to ivery body. I've had men out sarching for the child till I got this word, and then I thought it vain. But I'm at yer service, and will turn the whole town out o' their beds if ye need; good-night, neighbors." And, to Paddy's relief and joy, he closed the door be- hind him. I A'e/aiimfmmMmm^fi^m'- CHAPTER XXX. PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. IT was part of Timiny's plan not to appear to have boon far away, and, at liis leisure, to drop in at his homo as if ho had only been at his cousins', where he often passed a night. So when ho and Peggy were set down ab " the turn o' tiio road," he insisted on walking to Killyrooke with her, carrying her baskets. It was just at nightfall thoy entered the cottage. Mr. Murray, Elder Peter and some liiilf dozen other friends were there again, con- Koliiig John and Paddy, who had spout the day in unavailing tears. When Poggy saw these grave men sitting ii'. her little parlor in solemn couclavo, she was surprised. As no smile lighted any face iu the group, she took alarm, and turning very 339 840 GEMS OF THE DOG. pale, cried, " whcrc's my dailiu' cMld, that she's not at the gate to greet mo ? " Still no one spoke, and she cried out, " John, whore's my child ? " Poor John burst into tears, and could not reply. Mr. Murray then said, calmly, " Mis- tress Shcehan, you are not of those who expect to receive good at the hand of the Lord and not evil. You have seen too much of His mercy to doubt Ilim now, even though clouds and darkness surround Him." " Is sho dead, then ? tell me, dear hearts, and not kapo mo in this great fear. I, that ha' given all to God, did not withhold her. And if lie has taken her to Himself, He's took no more nor His own." Encouraged by her calmness, John began a recital of tiie painful story. As soon as " the wo- man dressed in black " was mentioned, Peggy cried out, " I saw her, darlin', with my own two eyes, and I heard her voice. It was vii/ lamhie sho war draggin' in tears, on shipboard — och, it war you fearful woman; and I tss^'^mmsmm^ms^^&iism.^ PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 341 cbild, that cried out, could not nly, " Mis- kvlio expect Lord and ich of His ugh clouds oar hearts, V. I, that hhold her. He's took HI hcgan a 18 " the wo- ued, Peggy h ray own It was mij L shipboard u ; aud I might have sa\ed the child — Timray aud I. She war at o ir very hand, wern't she, dear boy ? " Timray nodded, and Elder Peter looked surprised at his knowing wliat was seen on 8hipl)oard ; but he was too shrewd to ask ques- tions. " If ye had toM me the darlin' were hid safe in the gr^ve, I'd ha' done like David when his cliild war dead ; but to be in her hands," cxclairaed Peggy. " Slie's not in her hands nor yet in her ])ower. Mistress Sheehan,' replied Mr. Mur- ray. " Slie's as safe now, surely, as if she wei-e in the grave, an'd the sarae love watches over her. Bessie is on the ship, and will rc- l)ort the woman to the captain and ask protec- tion. Keep you quiet, and soon you'll hear of the two being safe on the other shore. I beg yon not to cast away your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward. God has brought you throngh gf and sore trials already, and bo assured lie will not now give yonr peace over into the hand of your enemy." ;.j5j^:;^?jj¥^^jSBiw«*w«^-*'ri^-''^srT^'-'"'*;.^-f=»r----'T'i ; % 842 GEMS OF THE BOO. " He will not, dear Mr. Murray," cried Peggy, smiling through her tears. " That's an inimy tliat's vanquished and that has lost her power. She may plot evil, but can never carry it out agin us, for we're hid under the shadow o' the Almighty. Once, friends, in tiio midnight, I had a sore struggle about you one ; and I thought she'd yet triumpli, hut the great peace come and, rolled like a billow o' love o'er my soul, and the fear was gone, and has never conic back since then. Her voice makes mo start for a moment, but then I remembers that she's under my feet, and no weapon formed agin rac or mine can prosper. Ye may think this bold talk, friends, for a poor weak sinner, but I've had the word o' tlie Lord for't, and His word standeth sure. I'll yet clasp my two children in the land o' the living." " 0, woman, great is thy faith ! " cried the pastor, *' and according to thy faith be it unto thee." When John and Peggy opened the door to let their guests out, thoy saw several of their iriiii* II I r. PATIENT IN TRIBULATION. 343 av," cried , " That's it has lost can never under the friends, in gglc about t triumph, lied like a e fear was since then, loment, but !r my feet, ' mine can ilk, friends, d the word ideth sure, the land o' cried the I be it unto lie door to •al of their Immblc neighbors waiting at the gate for their departure, that they might go in and sympa- thize with Peggy. Once witiiin the cottage, they commenced, in true Irish style, to weep and liowl ; wliilo some few, having got a hint about Nan, began to curse her, hoping thus to manifest in the strongest manner their sorrow for Peggy. But she, pale and calm to a de- gree wliich astonished them, said, "Take seats, kind neighbors, and cease this noise. It breaks my heart, and it will not bring back my cliild. Nather let mo hear any that would befriend me curse a soul that God has made. Hundreds o' prayers has gone up to Heaven fiom these lips for that evil woman, that she might yet be pardoned ; and do ye think that after that I could stand by and hear her cursed ? Maybe my children will be let to ' bless her soul. There's many a one, friends, as evil as her, that's been washed and mado clean, and at last been let in among the holy." " And thin ain't ye sorry after the child ? " asked an old woman, who was disappointed in not being allowed to curse Nan — cursing |1 844 GEMS OF THE BOG. being being one of her professions, for the practice of which she always cxpoctcd to be paid. " Yes, Betty, I'm heart-sick for my child, but I'm not goin' to rave like au onrasonin' woman. I belavo she's in the Lord's hand, and whoever's there is safe. Yc all know, dear women, how I loves the child ; so look at me now and see what strength God can give to a poor weak mortal. This is the conifort and joy my religion gives in distress. Ye mind it helped one long ago to trust Him and be quite asy when a flood covered all but him- self and his family. It enabled others to walk calm ill a fiery furnace, and others again in a den full up o' lions; and couldn't it bear me through this ? There's only one ocean be- tween me and my children, and I've not got to bridge it afore I can get to them. God pre- pared a way over the mighty sea long before I was born, and all I have to do now is just to go over it. And that I'll soon do, and gather my family all about me." Tliis last sentence set the poor neighbors to ■ liiMii-'rir''-' Tiiijtei) i /, Nan walked about on a tour cT U?!Cov3jy, see if there ■ ' >i,naW-lt-;Jfeagr.'jS.1.K; T' i" '* "' 352 ' GEMS OF THE BOG. might not be some of her acquaintances on board. Bessie calmed Marion's foars by saying tluit they would fiwd some Christian hearts in America to pity them. " Do you think she's our mother, Bessie ? " ayked Marion. " No," replied Bessie. " I think she's the body our dear mammy dreaded so greatly. But, dear child, God will 'bide with us oa sea as well as on laud if we but trust Him ; and we will trust Him, come life or death." It took but a few hours to consign the Widow McRca and the four girls to their bc.-ths, where they spent most of their time. But when the Atlantic Ocean assailed the equanimity of Nan O'Gormau, ho found more than his match, and came oil beaten. It would have taken two oceans tossed by the wildest storms to lay licr low, or to " unman " her to such a degree that she could not walk and talk. At length the voyage was over, and the ship beat up the Narrows towards the harbor of Now York. The girls clung frantically to the :;-;i3;;«^i"lEf; S-.i^Jl^- G. jquaintauces on ; fears by saying •istiau hearts in other, Bessie ? " think she's the idcd so greatly, with us oa sea trust Him ; and • death." to consign the r girls to their t of their time, ui assailed the , he found more olT beaten. It a tossed by the or to " unman " could not walk ?or, and the ship 8 the harbor of frantically to the J\KW UOilES m THE NEW WORLD. 353 j)()or widow, lest they might be separated from her; l)iit oa tlie vessel's touching at Custlo Garden, Nan seized a hand of cacli, and dragged tliem to the nearest hack. She ordered tlic driver to secure her box, and then drive them to some house kept by one of her own country people. Bessie told the man sliu would not go with this woman, and Marion reached out her arms from tlie carriage window, calling piti- fully after the Widow MoRca, But before the l)Owildered creature could reply, the hackman mounted his box, touclied his horses with tlie whij), and drove off through the densely crowded streets. Nan was very angry when she found that Marion was penniless, and vowed revenge on Paddy Mannon for deceiving her, and thus burdening lior with this child. But she made free use of the money she had taken from Bes- sie, both to rest after her voyage, and to buy fresh widow's weeds. Bess'o and Marion made quite a little stir ' ■n gv ^- snq g 354 GK3fS OF THE BOG. in the Intelligence-office, whither Nan cscortod thorn on the third day after their arrival, in search of nnrsc places. Sncli neat, pretty and modest little maidens were not met wiih every day in that place. Here they attracted at once the attention of a fmc-looking lady who was looking for two girls to act as child's maids for herself and sister, living door by door. " What church do you attend ? " was ono of the questions she put to them. " We're Protestants, ma'am," replied Bessie. *' It was U) l||(» I'feshytoJ'iiijj church we went at home." " liut It's Outholics they'll bo in this coun- try, ma'am," oxcliiinied Nan, looking resolute- ly, ulmost defiantly, at the lady. Bessie turned pale, hut collecting herself in a moment, she loi/ked imploiiiif^ly into the kind face before he-, and said, in tremuhiUH tones, " I four Oni'., dear lady, and Fd never deny my faith. Wo are Protestants, like the dear onoa who taught UH to love and trust Ilim only. If you'll look no farther, but take us two witii tu rn II iM iW ln * i.' iw< # «lll MM NEW HOMES IN THE NEW WORLD. 355 Nau escorted ir arrival, in xt, pretty and et wiili every attcutiou of a for two girls [If and sister, " was one of « cplicd Bessie. ;li we went at in this conn- king rosolutc- ing liorscir in into the kind inulouH tones, ever deny my tlio deiu- ones lini only. If us two willi you, you'll never repent it, for we'll be faith- ful, and the Lord will bless ^ou for havjng pity on us." This was strange talk in a place where ser- vants wore questioning ladies, and making terms for them to accept. Tlie lady was charmed with their [)lcasant manners, and with their artless expressions of trust in God, and slio announced to the person wlio kept the olTicc that her choice was made. " Hnt, ma'am," cried Nan, following her to the desk, " ye can't have ather of them unliss their wages be paid to mysilf. I'll puffer them to have lialf o't tlicn, and the other half will go to support their poor widdy mother." " But, my good woman," said the lady, " you look stronger than either of them. Why not take a place and support yourself? " " Och, dear lady, I'm a lone widdy, don't ye sec? The Widdy Hl.eelian." " I know no reason why widows should not labor as well as other women, if they have sirength to do it," said the lady, who was as resolute as herself. •3^... W iwt nowi i "^flS??" ^ iwi m OEMS OF THE BOO. " Will, will, I must git a bit over tho sea- feclin', and hunt two or thrco cousins first," replied Nan ; " and now if ye'll only take them off my hands at once, I'll sind tlicir box after them, and visit them once a week — small consolation -" and shaking all three cordially by tho hand, she saw them walk off together, and then seated herself to make new acquain- tances. Mrs. Maxwell and her sister were charmed with their neat little nurses who were capalAe and patient at their work, and who never lost an opportunity to teach or sing some, useful lesson to their little charges, of whom they soon became very fond. On her second motherly visit, Bessie being in the park with tho children. Nan was admitted into Mrs. Maxwell's sitting-room, where she at once began relating her life's trials to the lady. " Och, lady dear, it's a i'oarrul thing for a woman to come down from f;nat prosperity, as mysilf have done. If yo ^'onld know my fate, j yo'd cry tho full o' yor two hands o' tears. I ! had a lovely cottage with a larm to't, and over tlio sea- cousius first," )uly take them ihcir box after week — small three cordially Ik off together, 3 new acquaiu- • were charmed 10 were capal)lo who never lost ig some useful of whom they Bessie being in 111 was admitted m, where she at •ials to the lady. rFul thing for a at prosperity, as d know ray fate, iiids o" tears. I I farm to't, and NEW nOMES IX TIIK NEW WORLD. 357 cows, and pigs, and a donkey, and ducks, and goose, and bins, and a shilf full o' red and green delf ware, and feather bids, and a row o' milkpans as would reach from here to where our ship lauded," — a distance of about four miles. "And och, my heart! the husband I had ! He was the ilegiutest man in all thim parts. He was high and stout, and had the finest leg for a long stocking in all the country. Och, but he was the man for a beauty ! " " And how long has ho been dead ? " asked Mrs. Maxwell. " Dead ? Indado, ma'am, it's not dead at all tliat he is," cried Nan, intent only on making out a good story. ♦' But you told mo you were a widow," said the lady. Nan's memory had failed her for a moment, liiit, kIio was not one to give up her point. " So lie is dead to me, dear," she sobbed out, '• liut he's live enough to the rest o' the world. And if a woman wears wades for a man that's gone peaceable into his grave, much more mo "rm tnim^yAmx'lX^;: 358 GEMS OF THE BOO. that's lost mine a worse way." And moving her chair close to Mrs. Maxwell, she whis- pered, confidentially, " lie turned mo out o' doors, dear, and ray lovely childer, and there's an evil woman now enjoyin' all my good things, — my farm, and my iligaut cups and saucers, and nine skeins o' grey yarn I spun, and — and — and my liusland." " But your daughters speak "^ery tenderly of their father, and tell mo how ho used to pray for them," said tl»e lady. " Och, dear heart," cried Nan, " they liko 1 im hecausc there's much of his evil natur in thirasclves. Didn't ye see how mane they ^rero, not wantiu' mo to have all their wages ? " " They ought not to givo you even half," said the lady. *' I shall insist on their keeping moat of their wages, and you must go to work yourself." *' Och," cried Nan, " and what do you think I camo hero for ? I could live hy work at homo. I had a father's house full of plinty, and would niver ha' left it onlr that thoso two *-,,,,, -. CS^I«-(«r.-lM«*** »**-• » :]j'i i j « w l w i Bt» ■m KEW HOMES IN Tim NEW WORLD. 859 Lnd moving [, she whis- [ mo out o' , and there's 11 my good it cups and irarn I spun, sry tenderly ho used to , " they like 5vil natur in mane they all their even half," heir keeping t go to work do you think by work at ill ofplinty, at thoso two evil-minded girls ran off and hid in the ship, and I liad to follow to save thim from destruc- tion intirely ; " and the virtuous creature drew a heavy sigh. " Well, I advise you to go to work, and come once in a month or so to visit them," said Mis. Maxwell. " Ojice a month, is it ? " cried Nan, ris- ing ; " indado they'll not 'bide where I can't come in and out when I plazes, and call for money, too ! " And dashing out of the room, slio sUmmed tlio door behind her in a way that told poorly for her gentle blood. Tliat evening, after the little ones were asleep, BIrs. Maxwell, as was her cilstom, went into the nursery to seo that all was right, and there she found her little nurse in tears. " Wliy, Bessie, what's tho matter, child ? " she asked. " O, ma'am," cried tho girl, " there's a heavy trouble lying on my heart, and I'm afraid I'll die in this strango laud, and leave my darliu' sister alone." *, u -'sm>m!3ms^T^gg^r mmmm seo GEMS OF THE BOO. " Bessie, I'm sure there's something wrong between you and your motlier, and I insist on knowing what it is ; I will protect you, if you are doing right," said the lady, kindly. *' 0, ma'am, when we were in the park, she followed us and bid us both leave our places, and when I refused, she struck me before all the nurses and the children. Oh please give her all the wages if she but let us 'bide with you till our father find us, — the darlin' man ! This is just the hour he'll be prayin' for us. And our mammy too will be singin' — oh no, she'll never sing more till she finds us • — I'm sure o' that." " Bessie, is this woman your mother ? " asked Mrs. Maxwell. " She neither speaks nor acts as if she had brought you up." " Oh, ma'am, she said if I'd tell one word about it, she'd put us both in a nunneiy where our father would never find us ! She never brought us up — you see, ma'am, we do not speak Irish, like that." " You are in safe hands, my child," said 1 ■f»J«>'B"*!*''^'J' ■.'-'fr^ ..^ ^^t f f m ' iJ ^ '^om-.^ixm s aiimm i mm - otliing wrong ind I insist on ct you, if you indly. tlio park, sho ve our places, mo before all )h please give ; us 'bide with darlin' man! rayin' for us. igin' — oh no, inds us ■: — I'm ur mother ? " leither speaks 1 up." tell one word lunneiy where I ! She never m, we do not NEW HOMES 17 THE XEW WOULD. 3G1 Mrs. Maxwell, will* tears in her eyes. " Tell mo the wliolo story, and Mr. Maxwell will pro- tect you as if you were liis own." Thus encouraged, Bessie told all she knew of herself and the Sheehans, and the little sho knew of the woman who professed to be their mother. Mr. Maxwell at once wrote to Mr. Murray, assuring him that God had sent these good ciiildren to friends who would guard them well till their father came or sent for them. When Nan called again, Mrs. Maxwell re- fused to see her, telling her that her husband was now the protector of the girls, and would take care of them till their father's arrival. While waiting for a reply to the letter, Mrs. Maxwell and her sister did all they could to encourage and comfort the little exiles, who found it possible to be happy oven under such painful circumstances. r child," said n/mmmsmr- 'i*^'j- m^im^ t u.9i im * ' ^ 'w m^ma-momi^mU: CHAPTER XXXII. paddy's wisdom. PEGGY'S love for the cliildreu whom God had placed in her care, was truly a mo- ther's love ; and none but a mother can im- agine tlie anguish which at times filled her soul while John was busy settling his af- fairs to follow them. But scarcely did that anguish come, before the "great peace" would roll over her spirit, and she would see her darlings, not with her enemy, but in the hand and under the wing of the orphan's God. She applied herself to her work and to her religious duties with a calm and cheerful spir- it, wliich those only know whose hearts are fixed on God, and who have entered into au everlasting covenant with Him. The knitting and the singing went on as usual at the sunset hour ; but her guests were mm PADDY'S WISDOM. 3G3 1 whom God I truly a mo- ther can i ra- tes filled her tliiig his af- cely did that ;reat peace " iho would see ly, but ill the jrphau's God. • c and to her cheerful spir- 30 hearts are tered iuto au ; went on as r guests were 362 leaving one by one, as their ftxmilies dcscrtod tlioir miserable homes for better ones over tlio sou. Ilor work was going before her, and thoreforo sha felt less reluctance at leaving Ireland tlian if her field were growing about her. • As the preparations were going on, John suid, « And now, my jewel, I must spake to ye o' tlie Maid o' Longford. I suppose ye couldn't sell her ? " "No more than I could sell one 'o my ohildren," cried Peggy. "She's more tlian just a good cow to me ; she was the kind gift o' the darlin' mother, and has always seemed one o' ourselves. When I was in sor- row, her eyes always looked sad aii if she had the power o' pityin' me ; and she loved me, too. Siie's not young, the poor dear, more than ourselves, but she'll be useful several years yet. So I've resolved to give hor to Mr. Murray; and should his family die, or follow us over the sea, to have her left for the nest minister that takes his place, and always to 'bide on that land." rfl«<*.WA«.,Ti» .-jiUiitt"}!,(»(i ■4'.. 1 ^am^M tmmM IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) fe o \ J" /. r/j '"J ^ 364 GEMS OF THE DOa. " That's wise indado ! " cried John. " Elder Peter will buy Silvcrhoni, and will bo as tinder o' her as I have beon." " I hope thin he'll not fade hor on granite or marble ! " exclaimed Paddy, who had just entered the cottage. "I believe that's what he ates himsilf and that gives him yon stony look." "And now tnat we're on the priparations, Paddy," said his mistress, " I beg ye not to take thim clothes o' the old masther's to America. The people that know ye laugh at ye and no more ; but in America, where nono wears short clothes, they'll think ye'ro au idiot. Go to the workhouse and give thim to old Diunis. Tlioy'U fit him, and kape him warm many a winter if ho nades them." " Och ! but what fine thoughts are always comin' into yor hoad and out o' yer mouth, darlin' ! " exclaimed Paddy. " And won't the old man dance, spite o' his rheumatics, whiu he sees himsilf in thim fine clothes!" and springing up the ladder that led to hi« loft, Paddy tied the clothes up iu a bundle and de- i-fc MiifiTriV-"-* d John. " Elder I will bo as tindor lo her on granite dy, who had just liovo that's what es him yon stony the priparations, I beg ye not to >ld masther's to know yo laugh I America, where r'll think ye're an 9 and give thim im, and kape him ies them." aghts are always lit o' yer mouth, " And won't the rheumatics, whiu e clothes!" and , led to \m loft, a bundle aud de- y-. PADDY'S WISDOSr. parted, much to the relief of Peggy, who had' feared strong resistance on his part. Wo are Bocry to say, however, that he wont no farther than t!io cow-house, where ho stowed ihe bun- dle away among his treasures in a chest ; " and then sat down long enough to go to the workhouse aud back again, that his mis- tress might think he had been off on the benevo- lent errand. Then he went into the cottage for a good supper. On the evening before their departure, the cot- tage was filled with weeping neighbors, nearly all of whom were cither too poor or too old to emigrate. While Peggy, in gentle tones, was giving them her parting advice ani blessing, Master Timmy walked in, radiant with excite- ment, y- ''■■'' — . ■''■•.-'■:.■''• ■ - '-<■ i "•':■• "The battle's won without blood, Misther Shechan ! " he cried. I' got twenty pounds o' money, and the free consint o' the Elder to oo- company yo. When he saw I would go, he gave consint to save me from the sin o' disobe- dience, the dear man ; aud he'll soon follow ; for nather he nor the loviii' mother will brathe feii 366 OEMS OF THE BOO. long out o' sight o' me. I'll show tliem what a strong arm can do when it has a chance to work. I'll just put myself to the granite, — that's the fine material to lay out a lad's mus- cle on. It would : a' been fine, indeed, if I, after I'd stirred up half the lads between here and Limerick to go to America, had been forced to 'bide in the chimney-corner myself." Paddy was leaning on his elbow, looking out of the casement, in rather a pensive mood for him. He thought these remarks of Timmy's rather personal ; so, turning round abruptly ho said, " Plio, yer nonsinse, lad ! Ye talk like the small child ye are ! The arth, and the arth alone, are the fine material for a man to spind his stringth on." « I disagree with you, old fellow," said Tim- my. " Granite is harder, and so is a nobler work than the arth. Sure ony maid can hoo potatoes, if she but have good health and com- mon sinse ; but put the best o' thim on a huga block o' granite, and bid her hew out a monu- ment or an ornamental gate-post, and see what work she'll make on't! Sotting the maids :.■:*.• : ihow tliem what lias a clianco to the grauito, — lut a lad's raus- iie, indeed, if I, ds between hero had been forced myself." bow, looking out 3nsive mood for irks of TiraiPf 's )und abruptly ho 1 ! Yo talk liko ■th, and the arth r a man to spind 3II0W," said Tim- d so is a nobler ly maid can hoc health and cora- ' thim on a huga hew out a monu- ost, and see what itting the maids PADDY' 8 WISDOM. aside, ye can put an idiot on his knees, and lie can pull weeds as well as a giant or a col- lege-lamed man ; but set him to liewing the crowned falcon — the coat-o'-arms on the new door for the Harplcy tomb, — and see what a fine work he'll make on't ! " " And so would Elder Pctor made as fine work on't as the poor fool, afore he'd larned," replied Paddy. " Ah Timmy, lad, the arth la the mO' terial for an honest man to delve in!" "The arth's filthy," said Timmy, to draw Paddy out ; " a man can never wrirk in it witjjout defiling himself; but the stone is as pure as the sky above us, Paddy." "List to me, lad. The good God knows which is the finest thing for man, surely; and the dear, dead Misthross used to read to us that when lie made his first man, and had ivory thing afore him to sclict from, didn't he pass by the stones, the jewels, and the gold and the silver and tho tin, and mal i him a fino garden, and put him into it to till it and to dress it? That same showed, as Mammy Hon- ey said, what Him as made the world thought nm f T 866 OEMS OF TBE BOO. — that farmin's the noblest work at all ; and while I'm doui' what the grand jintleman Adam did with his own hands — him that owned the whole world for his farm — I'll feel quite honored. And yor Protestant Bible tells too, aboot a man that wint out to sow, and about a husbandman that bad a vineyard ; but will ye show me the place where's mintioned a man that stood ho.ckin' away at a gravestone or a gate-post ? Yo'll not fiud it at all." Timmy was a little crest-fallen by Paddy's reasoning, but laughed it oflfby saying, " Paddy, the church was cljated when ye were put on a farm to work. Ye should be aither a priest or a parson, with all the tine thoughts ye have. Wliat war ye thinkiu' so grave about when I came in, with yor head out o' the casement, and yor eyes lookm' up at the clouds ? " " Well, Timmy, lad, it war fuio thoughts I had ontirely yon time ! I war lookin' at the moon, and thinkiu' how ueglected-like she war, and how light sot by o' most people. Hapos thinks a dale o' the sun, bekase he stares so fierce down on us, and makes such a .rtj'.ii-S...iii SiVi' ~..p^ - *w fk at all ; and and jintleman Is — him that ima — I'll feel tant Bible tells t to sow, and vineyard ; but re's mintioned it a gravestone ,t all." en by Paddy's yiiig, " Paddy, wore put on a ther a priest or ghts ye have. about when I the casement, 3uds ? " ue thoughts I lookin' at tho ectod-like sho most people, un, bokase he makes such a PADDY'S WISDOM. 369 show o' himsilf. And bekase tho moon only throws a kind smile on us, they think little o' her. But I'll till ye what I think, — it's a com- parison like ; the sun is like frinds that's very lovin' and helpful whin we don't nade them. He shines in the daylight whin we could jest get along quite fine witliout him. But the dear little moon, she's like a friend in nade ; she shines when all's dark, whin but for her we'd wander astray, or fall down into a ditch and break our head. So away with yer sun, that only gives light whin we've enough without him ; and up with tho moon that's saved many a fine life ! " " But Paddy, man," cried Timmy, " there'd be no light at all in the moon, but only for the sun. The astronomers say the moon gits her light from the sun." " Then they lies," cried Paddy. " Don't ye think I've as many eyes as these 'stronomies has ? And can't I see that tho sun's no where about to be givin' her light? lie's gouo on- tirely out o' tho way afore the moon rises at all! It's a great trick wise men has got 34 -■-,!sxS5|n| 370 ??^!SP?fi?H^^S!?r' GEMS OF THE BOG. o' these cla>s, tcUiu' such stufif and thiukia' they'll make onlarned folks bclavo 'em agin their wits ; but I'm uot one o' the fools that'll do it. I'll bclave me own, eyes and me own sinses afore I'll belavo Mr. Murray himself, — 'dado I will. One o' his boys was foolin' mo * as wo walked home together from the post- ' office, one night, by tellin' me that some o' the Btars In) pointed out was made o' dippers ; — as if he thought I was fool enough to belave him ! Dippers, indade ! " ♦ ' , and thiiikin' avo 'em agin le fools that'll 1 and me own ray himself, — v^as foolin' mo from the post- lat some o' the o' dippers ; — ugh to belavo ,- .:.^-.:^- ::'::.; ?«»: : *ft- CHAPTER XXXm. A JOYFUL MEETING. IT was a bright day in the early autumn, and the trees, in hues of gorgeous beauty, made the park a scene of gladness to the eye weary of the tame sights of every-day life. Nature and the little children were out on a holiday together. As the young Sheehan girls drew their baby charges slowly along under a row of bright elms, they noticed, in a corner, a group of poor-looking people, who seemed to be trying to hide, one behind the other, from the obser- vation they were attracting^ "Look at yon poor things, Marion," said Bessie. " I'm sure tliey're new off the sliip, and are suffering from the sport the lads are making of their old-fashionod Irish clothes. Let's cross this path, and give them a hand and 371 I 372 OEMS OF THE BOO. a kind word. Maybe some o' thein are homc< less and friendless. And it may be a long day before they find such friends as God raised up fortis at the very first. Pcriiaps there's no pure hearts at home prayin' for them, either." And the little nurses drew their baby-car- riages towards the forlorn-looking group. . " You've just come over, poor thing," said Bessie, k'ndly, to the one woman of the party. " What part o' poor Ireland are you from ? " " Coonty Kirry, me and cent things us ; and as ways of a igh to take im tlie fiue ny ever let clothes with 1 on at all, : now orna- )use ! How ce, jist like solved they slothes, and m to me, if link I niver nd howliu' A JOYFUL MEETING. 875 «' Haste back, Paddy," said Marion, " and tell father and mammy that America's the loveliest land on the whole arth ; and that the people, all that we've seen yet, are just angels. Don't stop to walk, dear man, but go on to yonder broad street, and there take a car to your left, and pay sixpence each, and it will land ye safe at the placis you're stopping in." So Paddy stirred up his weary party, and dragging his wooden-soled brogues along, lum- bered up the gravel walk, followed by his un- couth shipmates, who evidently regarded him as a man " born for a leader." But the girls were not done with him yet ; and Marion, after feasting her homesick eyes on his awkward figure for a moment, called out, " Paddy, I'nv so thankful you're all safe ' in this dear country ; you won't have to work so hard here for stirabout and herring." Paddy walked back towards them, wiping away his tears with the sleeve of hit coat. "Dears," he said mournfully, "I used to think Ameriky all the hiven I'd iver ask for, but now Pm here, the heart is as heavy and i! I 376 GEMS OF THE BOO. cold as a stone in my brist. I've lefl the bones o' Meg and little Pat — him as war Johnny Shoehan — behind me alone. When I was there I use to go and sit down by their cold bed and mend my clothes and talk to thim ; but I can uiver do that in this fine place." ,^ ,, " Padvly," said Bessie, " I haven't asked you how ye left all the friends in Killyrooke and Cloynmally, — Mr. Murray's family, and — and — and Eider Peter, too ; I hope he was well ? " " All's well, dear, and partic'lar the Elder. He'e thrivin' tine on the stones he ates, atid growin' every flay harder and grayer," answered Paddy, smiling through his tears. " And Timmy, I hope he's obedient, and will 'bide his father's will about leaving home?" Paddy dropped his head mournfully, and made no reply. " There was nothing wrong there, surely ? Timmy was living when you loft ? " she asked, in surprise at Paddy's manner. " Well, dear child," cried Faddy, " ho wa$ H 've left the litn as war le. When I >wn by their and talk to iu this fine I't asked you lyrooke and ', and — and was well ? " r the Elder. 3s he atcs, id grayer," lis tears, edieut, and >ut leaving nfuUy, and >re, surely? ' she asked, y, ' well's thoy found their father waiting them. Tho joyful moeting was almost as grateful to Mrs. Maxwell as to themselves,' for she had now heard all their story from John, and was prepared to welcome the whole family to her heart. «, Tho girls went with John to meet their beloved mammy, and to *e surprised by the pleasant and merry face of Master Timmy, who Jiad accompan'.ed them ! " Why, Timmy, lad," cried Bessie, « Paddy made me believe that you were dead. I was afeared to ask my father, lost he'd say you were »» " No Bessie," said Timmy laughing. " I'm quite alive I assure ye ! The Elder — dear man that he is — finally gave consiut rather than suffer me to come without. And the darliii' mother pladod that he'd give me all the clothes and tools and money I'd nado, and 3iait^Hvifinyf^'i!*y^n/t^*n-,-^^v ^» m m:m*Mf t i ii ^ tmmvy-'^^vyfr^ ^^^ ■** 1 yoQ all at as come to Mr. Max> Ltiiig them, grateful to or she had in, and was mly to her meet their ised by the rimmy, who sie, " Paddy ead. I was e'd say you ling. " I'm llder — dear isiut rather . And the give mo all d nado, and A JOYFUL MEETING. send me ofiF with his blessin'. And it'll be a short day afore ye'U see them all hero, that's if the Elder can lave Mr. Murray behind." " But why, then, didn't you come to seek us, T immy, and not let Paddy give me yon fearful scare ? " asked Bessie. "I stayed here to watch the boxes," said Tiraray. "Paddy was that taken up with the new people and the strange dresses, that he couldn't 'bide in at all. He was bid to take off his workin' clothes that he'd wore on the sea, and put on his Sunday ones ; and what did wo see in a short space, but him in ' the oidd masther's shute ' that we thought safe in the workhouse, goin' off the stops in company with half a dozen wild Irishmen he took under his wing on the ship, and at his heels a troop o' boys. The people about the inn door all shouted with laughter, and one man cried, * There goes Did Ii-eland and young America, hand in hand ! ' Ye'd ha' thought he'd known the lads all his life by the tarms they tvas on ; he givin' them Irish pennies, and shigin' Irish songs to them afore he'd been two 380 GEMS OF TUE BOO. hours off tlio ship. Ho called tho stupid loons ho was ladin' about, * these poor sthrangers in a sthrango land,' and said he must put himself about getting work and homes for them on tho morrow ! Ye'd a thought he'd lived in Amer- ica all his life, and had hapes of influence in it. There's one thing we've <1pnc f-^r America, already; we've brought her o nsa.i tho like o* whom, for wisdom and foiij , '1»3 never saw before." • v • ^■11 itapid loons ilirangcrs in put himself licrn on tho 3d in Amer- influenco in -^r America, tho like o* I never saw € CHAPTER XXXIV. * , THE OLD FOE AGAIN. MR. MAXWELL was so charmed with this new development of Irish character, that he made places for John and Paddy in his warehouse, as porter and teamster. The girls cheerfully kept t'lcir situations till, as he promised to do, their father should be able to send them to school again. With aid of the girls, Peggy found rooms in a neatly-kept tenement house of the bet- ter class, and toon made her humble city home shine as brightly as tho cottage in Killy- rooke had done ; and her grateful heart was gladdened every Sunday evening by seeing tho pleasant faces of her children again at her table. But these " Oems of the Bog " did not sit sel- fishly and quietly down to rejoico in their deliv- 381 • t ''^FrwA^^dKiitfwar^ilai friwhifirtiiWMimiiiffcliii«i,'ii ra 382 3EMS OF THE BOO. I i; eraiice'from enemies, and their safe condnct to a land flowing witlj milk and honey. They looked about at once for work, each one ask- ing, " What shall I rer.der unto the Lord for all His benefits toward rae ? " Peggy soon found neighbors who needed help and comfort, and without breathing a "Word against their faith, she talked to them of that whicli was the joy and the rejoicing of her own heart. John, also, by his kind and obliging ways made friends among the men, both in the store, and in the neighborhood where he lived. Believed from ilie pressure of his old conviction at home — that all had known his sin and therefore regarded him aa a hypocrite, — ho began to talk and to labor more openly. Peggy, through Mrs. Maxwell's aid and encouragement. Opened again her knit- ting and singing meetings in the evenings when toil was over. The husbands and brothers of the women dropped in Uv/W and then for a chat, and they too would listen, and sometimes sing. Mr. Maxwell, who wa. himself an earnest worker iu the same good cause, supplied John THE OLD FOE AGAIN. I condnct to ney. They ch one ask- lie Lord for rho needed treatliing a to tliem of ejoiciug of s kind and g the men, eighborhood he pressure liat all had ed him a» a kd to labor i. Maxwell's an her knit- euings when 1 brothers of n foi' a chat, letimes sing. an earnest pplied John with books of interest to read and to lend to his nciglibors ; and occasionally visited him to cheer him on. He was amazed at the power of Peggy over the women and girls, and charmed by John's humble zeal and his earnest desii-e for the souls of his countrymen, whom he re- garded as bound in chains of error. He was also greatly pleased with John and Paddy as faithful laborers in the store, and he felt sure that God had work for the humble family iu their new home. One day, a few weeks after their arrival, as the redoubtable Paddy was passing through one of the great thoroughfares, he saw a fair-faced blind woman who was relating to passers-by, — not one of whom stopped to listen, — the story of her woes. " For the love o' mercy," she said, "give a shilling to a poor blind lady, whose husband is just after having his arm imputated, and nothing at all in the house to ate." Such poverty in America was surprising to Paddy, and he stepped up to lay his offering in her extended palm. The face of the blind woman was too familiar to deceive him, even H 384 OEMS OF THE BOO. under the green shade; and he exclaimed, " And whin did ye lose ycr eyes, Nan ? " " I'm not Nan O'Gorman," she cried, " and I niver heard o' Killyrooke in all my life." " And who said that was yer name, or yer home, I'd ask ? " cried Paddy, liis temper ris- ing at her audacity. " I'd inform ye that my masther's nare by, and he'll have ye 'rested for Stalin' his childer, and ye'll then have a chance to see what's a Yankee prison like." " Powers o' evil ! " cried Nan, " why did ye iver sind Paddy Maunon all the way over the sea to torraint me ? Whist, Paddy, and I'll till ye a sacret. I've jist turned to this business to gather a little money to take me to Cal'forny, where they gets high wages for sittiu' still. Don't till on me, for I'm 8ore afraid o' yon starn Misther Mixwill, who thritened to 'rist me ; and I'll promise niver more to go nare the Sheelians while I live. Will ye plidge yer honor ? " « No," said Paddy, " I'll call the drst polish- man I see, and get ye put into prison for life." And Paddy, in his zeal to expose the impos- f TEE OLD FOE AGAIN. 885 I exclaimed, fau ? " ried, " and I J life." lamo, or yer I temper ria- je tliat mj jQ 'rested for ave a chance ' why did ye yay over the ',aud I'll till s business to to Carforny, sittiu' still, fraid o' yon sned to 'rist I to go nare jQ plidge yer 3 first polish- son for life." lO the impos- tor, began to tell her story to some listeners, when she darted down the street, turned into a narrow alley, and was off for ♦' Cal'forny " or some other distant region. Paddy liad little idea of the .astuess of the city, and thought he could find her at any time by going to the street in which she had disappeared. So he gathered quite a crowd of idlers about him, and discoursed at consider- able length on Nan's genealogy, and on the fate which liad " well nigh swipt the blood o' the race off the face o' the arth entirely." His audience became quite interested in Nan's history, and Paddy, seeing this, grew eloquent, and throwing back his head, gave vent to a torrent of" varses." " Ooh, lada o' Ameriky ! Oons o' the free I I'd like to be makin' a bargain with ye. That ye'll jine me in aarchiu this wide city o'er. Till we bring Nan O'Gornian a Justice afore. *' Nather silver nor gold has poor Paddy to give. But he'll love ye tid bliss ye as long as ye live. If ye'U help him to clarc her quite off on the tea i For he'll niver rest asy in the land where she be ! " Of course this and much more of the same ' *\' 'i^ ia i i l M tla iiM i klm f»^ mlt^r ^ ^ I ? ' . I'- 886 OEMS or THE BOO. style charmed the boys, and many of them fol- lowed Paddy when he moved on, asking him whore he lived, and if he made poetry for a living. Paddy was so flattered that ho was tempted to tell a lie, and own himself " a varse-maker by trade whereby he arned a fine livin', howl- in' at funerals and singin' at fairs in the ould counthry;" but he said he had changed hia business in this city, " and was now tamester to Mr. Mixwill, entirely." At dinner-time Paddy went home, his face radiant with good news. "Look, dear," ho said to Peggy, "Pvo fine news to tell ye. I've found Nan, and I have consorted with a score o' boys to delude her oflf to the sea, and if good luck be with us, drown her, maybe ! " « Paddy, ye shall niver touch a hair o' her head. We're raised up beyond her power to harm v.s, and I hope the Lord will pity and save her," said Peggy. " rd be very sorry for that, for it would be quite Uiscouragin' entirely if she was trated IJiS" '^ ..UlJJPilll.J i I II THE OLD FOE AOAIIT. 387 of them foU asking him )oetry for a raa tempted v^arse-maker livin', howl- in the ould changed his ow tamester ae, his face , «rvo fine , and I have slude her off th us, drown I hair o' her lier power to irill pity and > it would be 3 was trated V >.i8 as fine as yersilf in the matter o' religion. She's no right to it after all the ill she has done us. I'd feel myself quite wronged if she got as good trateraent as oursilves," exclaimed Paddy. " Oh, poor man, it's little we deserves from the hand o' the Lord ourselves." said Peggy. " Humph ! I'll uiver give in but I desarveg a finer heaven nor she ! " "Ye detarve no heaven at all, Paddy. If any o' us be so happy as to enter ia at last, it wiU be o' free grace." -*"•! CHAPTER XXXV. PBOMOTION AND REWARD, '* f I ■• 9 ■ 8 ' WHEN the Shechaii family had been abont six months in their new home, and all was going on well with them, Paddy came in to dinner one day, evidently much cast down. He pulled his hat over his eyes, — his custom when in grief, — and said mournfully, " No dinner for me this day, misthress dear." " What's gone wrong, Paddy ? " asked Peggy. "I hope you've not angered the jintlemen at the store ? " "No, but they has angered me sore," re- plied the poor fellow. " I'm disgraced and ruined for iver, and can niver hould up my head more in public. They've turned my masther into a coal-haver." " A coal-haver ? " cried Peggy. '' Jist that. All was goin' on will, Misther 1 '.' i -UP"^ ' been abont [ne, and all iy came in cast down, his custom fully, "No lar." ? " asked ngered the sore," re- graced and uld up my turned my ill, Misther *: PROMOTION AND REWABD. 389 Mixwill seemiu' to think there was jist only one man in the place ! It war ' Sheehan ' hero and ' Sheehan ' there, and more nor once I've heerd him tellin' jintlemen what a fine religious family we war — 'specially himself and ye. "Will, to-day, when the door was full up with bales, our minister come stcppin' over them with a high man with hair like a hay-mow on the top o' his head, and a white nick-cloth, as big as a sheet, about his nick. Misther Mix- will shuk hands with them very glad-like, and bid them into the coontin'-room, and in five minutes more he opened the door and called in my masther, who was histin' bales. " I made an errand by the place, and put my ear to the window, — not at all with a view o' listenin', for I'm too uunerable a man for that like maneness, — and heerd them ask my masther many questions, and thin say, * by the will, thin, o' Misther Mixwill ye'U be no more in this store, but be our coal-haver.' *' My masther niver lifted his tongue agin it ; but he was very solemn whin he came out from the grand folk. I doubt but the old story has m GEMS OF THE BOQ. I ft followed us to Ameriky, and will Imnt us till we hides ill the grave. Och, och, why iver did I lave my own peaceful grave in Ireland, aud come here to bo buried in a strange mau'a grave ? " When John came in, aud "the lad" was gone, Peggy said, with a smile, " Paddy say* yo are tarned out o' yer place, and made a coal haver, dear." «A ooal haver!" cried John. "The sim- pie fellow has been listening to tlie talk o' two gentlemen witli Mr. Maxwell about me. It Boem^ darlin', that the hearts of acme o' the Lord's people here is stirred up to make known the Gospel to them that will nather go to His house nor read His Word. And they have bound thimseWes into a society like for that end, and pay men (not ministers) to go from house to house among the poor and the sinful, readin' and talkiii' to all that will listen. They had heard through Mr. Maxwell o' ouv poor efforts among our neighbors, and came to see would he let me off to bo a worker for them -a 'colporter,' as they calls it. And ^ -» il hunt us till ., why iver did 1 Ireland, and strange man's the lad" was , " Paddy say* and made a 1. "The sim- he talk o' two about me. It of some o' the to make knowa ather go to His ind they have y like for that lers) to go from and the sinful, lat will listen. Maxwell o' ouv irs, and came to a worker for y calls it. And PROMOTION AND REWARD. 891 tliat'B sure the very word Paddy got hold on ; he thought a colporter was a coal-haver, poor lad." "And what did ye say to them, dear? asked Peggy, with real pleasure in her eye. « I said I'd consult ye, and if ye'd think mo worthy, I'd begin at once. I really belave, darlin', timt Pve been doin' a sort o' pinance by keepin' my sin always afore my mind, when that sin was forgiven and to be remembered no more agin me for ever. Och, Peggy, if our own righteousness is nothing to live on, what can our sins be? Pm going to strive hinceforth to think only on the love aUd the marcy that has washed them all away." Paddy's only remark, when ho heard of this change of work, was, " And sure, thin, he'll be a sort o' a minister, and wear a fine white nickcloth like Mr. Murray. Why couldn't Mammy Honey ha' lived to see this day ? " Timmy secured work at once in a granite- yard, where he had need of all his strength; and « being fine at the pen and the figures," ho made himself very useful among the lads ■mMimmMMMMM ■ I 892 OEMS OF THE BOO. wliora John go,tliorcd into his kitchon in the evening to listen to reading and to be kept out of mischief. Paddy aided grcotiy in the work by forming acquaintances among the young men and boys, whom he decoyed into the «' tachiu's " by promises of " fine stories about Ireland," if they would stay till the clock struck nine. He would redeem his word by tales of witches and ghosts, of ball-playing and quoit-pitching, till John was ready for his reading and Peggy for the singing. They would remain, and frequently return without a repetition of Paddy's pious fraud, which was known only to himself and them. On Sunday evenings, when the girls were always at home, the room was generally full of listeners to the sweet singi-.ig ; and scores tlnis heard of the love and pity of the Saviour, who would not have dared to listen to a sermon or a prayer outside their own church. One day Paddy came in •after one of his missionary eftorts, and pulling his hat over his eyes, said, " Misthress darlin, there come a very troubliug thought into my head when I i ...-ai^^^gw PSOMOTION AND REWARD. 393 slion in the bo kept out in the work the young ed into the stories about I the clock n his word ball-playing ■cady for his ;ing. They irn without a 1, which was girls were icrally full of d scores thus Saviour, who a sermon or r one of his hat over his here come a head when I was strivin' to drag in these wild lads to hear the singin' and the readin'." "What was that, Paddy?" asked Peggy kindly. ^ « Will, thin, I thought, here's me takin all this pains to get other ones to plaze God, and thinkin' very little about doin' it mysilf, or gittin' my own soul saved. Times gone I was asy, becaso I thought, bein' a Catholic, Pd push into heaven among the crowd, few o' whom war as good as mysilf. And since Pve turned Protestant I've trusted that I'd git in for bein» in such fine company. And jist now Pm thinkin' I'll not be let in at all, at all. If I'll not be saved for yer goodness, nor yet for the dear misthress, sure I'll not be let in for my own,- becase why ? Bocase I hasn't any." « Pm glad, my dear man, that ye've found it out," cried Peggy, " for Pve regarded ye as the self-righteousest cretur' that ever lived on the arth. And none will ever receive Christ till he's emptied o' silf." "Will, thin," cried Paddy, "Pm surprised that Pve been let live all this time, hatin' IWtfililliiilliiii 394 OEMS OF THE BOG. J ivery body that didn't jist admire us, and scornin' all that warn't equally grand. And now I look worse to mysilf nor oven Nau. She did aa she war tached, and I didn't. And what'll I do now ? " " Ye'U just havo to do what every other sin- ner does, Paddy, before he finds pace ; believe what JesuB says, and give yersilf to Him." • « I'll do thai, thin," cried Paddy, with tears in his eyes, " but it's a mane thing ontirely to bring only my grey hair and my failin' strength to the Lord, when I might ha' given Him my bist years, and I'm jist ashamed to do It." « And yet, Paddy, all the labor of those ♦ bist years ' could not have purchased salvation for ye. That is ever a ^ree gift. •• • Jesus, Thy blood and rightoousnesi My beauty arc, my glorious drew ; •Mid flaming worids in these arrayed. With joy shall I lift up my head.* " " Aye, and will ye may lift up yer head with joy, ye that have lived like an angel, with niver a hatred in yer heart uor a lie on yer J ii^i^i^m*' PROMOTION AND REWARD. 895 ire us, and rand. And 1 Nau. She idu't. And ry other sin- ace ; believe )Hiiii." r, with tears ling entirely 1 my fbiliu' lit ha' given ihamod to do of those * bist salvation for nesi t • * yor head with I angel, with a lie on yer tongue ! Look at the marcy I've had o' he Lord. Such religious larnin', — catechisms and com- mandments and psulms and hums bate into me from the time I left the workhouse, till this hour ! And i'vo laughed at the catechism, and broke the commandments, and twisted the holy varsea into nousiuse. Mysilf it was, who scared the poor fool who disgraced our fine funerel, by chasing him near the church yard till he fell and was tuk up for dead, none knowin' what ailed him! And I it was that F«t fire to our inimy's cottage. And oh, the lies I've told! It would take seven year to confiss them to ye. Only tin days agone I lured two rough lads into the night-tachins by tellin' that ye closed up by givin' the boys a fine supper. Ye mind how yon ones sat long after all else war gone ? Will, thin, I beck- oned them out, and told them the butcher dis. appointed ye in not sending the young pig ye war to roast for us ! And didn't I tell the darks in Mr. Mixwell's store that ye were niver common farmer people at home, but that my masther war brother to Harply Hall, and liff---'-"""^"-^ 396 GEMS OF THE BOG. tliiit wc only tuk a freak and came off to Amciik) in disguish for a little sport, — the way Victoory of England do at times ! 1 told thciu we langhcd at the pittance Mr. Mixwill gives ns in wages, and often threw it away among the boys on our road home, and that I war ycr butler in Ireland as my father war be- fore me ! Sure I can niver be forgive for all that and a thousand evils more." ' " 0' course they didn't belave a word on't, and laughed at ye for thinkin' they did ; but ye must confiss ycr sin, and humble ycrsilf before them, and tell them ye've rcpinted and are seeking the Lord," said Peggy. Paddy shook his head mournfully, and said, " I used to think if iver I coulu grow rich and have tin pounds in the Bank, I ask no greater happiness. But now, if I could but be forgive and get pace, I niver care if I didn't look on another farthin' whilo I lives ! " « Paddy," said his mistress, " there's one only can give ye pace, poor man, and ye know where to find Him. Go to Him and confess ycr sin, and ask Him to pity and pardou ye ''-W«ii..%!J»(.»tf*>^«-'-*'^''''^********^'*"*'' L ! J I U,I|J. I ; J f^f^^ - \ , l|' ""1" came off to sport, — the lines! 1 told Mr. Mixwill •ew it away 3, and that I ither war be- rgivc for all a word ou't, y did ; but ye jrersilf before ited and aro lly, and said, row rich and k no greater ut be forgive idu't look on lere's one only md ye know 1 and confess nd pardou ye PROMOTION AND REWARD. 897 for the sake o' His dear Son, who came to save the simple as well as the wise." « I used to think, dear, that I was wiser nor any other one, but now every word I spakes sounds like an idiot's," replied Paddy. « In the multitude o' words there wanteth not sin, dear man," said Peggy; « so the less ye talk the less danger ye'll be in o' sinnin'. Even the wise King David had to set a double watch on his lips lest he might sin with his tongue." . ; " Mammy Honey once told me my tongue gave her great sorrow, and bid me count tin every time before I'd spake, so as to have space to think what I'd be to say. I'll obey her orders aven at this late day, and so strive to plasc the Lord. If iver ye hear me boastin', rebuke me, dear, for I have a sore longin' to bo rid o' evil and to sarve the Lord the small space that's lift me here ; for I jist feel I love Him so, that Pd lay my life down rather nor grieve Him." r There was a marked change in poor Paddy after this time. Although he kept his merry old I ■iiii'""-'fii''ii"'- ••■■■"■■*^"»**' 398 GEMS OF THE BOO. heart, and still " consorted with boys in placo o» mcn";hiscalm and modest demeanor, and hia zeal in every work of mercy gave great joy to those who had spent so much labor on him. At the end of three years, the Shcehans were joined in their now home by Elder Peter and his wife. The hard nature of the stone- cutter had undergone a great change during his painful separation from his beloved Tim- my ; and the work of softening was carried ou still farther by the genial influences which now surrounded him in the church to wh-ch he had bQcn at once introduced, Timmy had grown into a strong and noble man, proud of his trade and of his skill at it. lie rejoiced tliat « miracles o' money could be wrought out o' the hard stone by a strong arm and a powerful will ; and the money he thus earned was as free as the air to all who needed help. Ho had now become a real helper to hia friends in every good work. Timmy had not, however, overcome " his old wakeness " which ho had inherited from some far-ofif ancestor. When the Elder saw that he devoted all hia - " JUm ii s iu placo o* nor, and liia great joy to ' on lilin. lio Slicelians Elder Peter if the Btonc- ango during Kjloved Tim- is carried ou IS which now grhfoh he had ig and nohle is skill at it. tioy conld he ft strong arm )ney he thus I who needed helper to his imy had not, eness " which r-off ancestor, voted all his PROMOTION AND REWARD. 399 leisure time to Bessie, he remarked, "It's just as I always prophesied ; he has turned out a gallant, or a lover or some such thing." But the old man was not annoyed by the fulfilment of his words, but, on the contrary, he entered into all his sou's plans for the happy future. He established himself at once in a stone yard, and took Timmy into partnership with him. He is now aiding the Sheehans in their good work, and laying up a little store wherewith Timiny and Bessie may ere long set up anclher new home in the New World. And here we take leave of these " Gems of the Bog," asking, for their sakes, the sympathy of the reader, in that class for whom especially they labored and prayed. -,& THB END. Mj fir?^&^»- ».M