Wilmington journal. [volume] (Wilmington, N.C.) 1844-1895, 1845-07-04
From the New Monthly Belle Assemble
THE POST OFFICE--an Irish Sketch.
BY MISS POWER.

From the New Monthly Belle Assemblies.
THE POST OFFICE--an Irish Sketch.
BY MISS POWER. "a =,
1t is. believe, peculiarly of almost
all Irish towns, that the tourist who strolls
through them with his eyes and ears open,
can hardly fail to return to his inn without
materials for a pen or pencil sketch. fur
nished by the lower class Of its inhabitants,
more especially the beggars: their picsu-
rescue faces and costumes are well wor-
thy the attention of the artist while he
who yields the quill IA goose quill is incl
igible for the service) will find many coca
sions to use it, in noting down the scraps
of conversation that are Carried on. for the
benefit of the public around him. During
visit of some weeks at the town ofN-,
in the north of Ireland, siroiled down the
big street, according 10 my daily custom,
10 inquire at the post office for my letters;
and finding there were none, stopped TO
regale my eyes and ears at the expense Of
the various querists who came on the same
Grand. Among the rest. was one who
particularly attracted my attention by the
eagerness with which he pushed his way
through the other applicants, and advanced
to the window, where, behind the half
lowered blind, sat ensconced the pretty
daughter of the post master, whose duty it
was TO give out the letters when her father
was away.
No sooner arrived at the gaol, than, pull
ling off his hat with the instructive good
breeding which an Irshman displays to-
wards the beau sere, demanded with rich
brogue.
IF you phase, Miss O'Brady, have you
ever letlher for me?'
'Who are you?' inquired the damsel,
$ sorting over the heap.
i is it who am p! Sure and .hruth, I'm
dacent boy as e'er wan (one) in the
parish, tho it's myself says it and Misther
FIeean, that last sarved, ill give me
right good crackther any day, faicks, an
he WILL
Yes, but must know y'r name.'
MY name? an welcome! Sure it's no
sacret! There's not man, woman or
child in the town, that doesn't know il !;
and in troth, I've no raison to be ashamed
Of it,
well, but I don't know it; can't you
tell me who you are at once ?
'Arrah, now, Miss Honey, if yon have
not got letther for me, it 'ud be a dale
or kinder in we, to tell me so, and not be di.
varin' yerself AKIN me questions
Diverting myself? it isn't TO diuerf
myself, | ask you. Sure must know y'r
= name to know who the letter is 10 be direc-
ted to-
> 70 me. Who else would poor Thady,
Of that's far away, write to but me!--me that's
d his own brother.
g Once for all, aoiH you ,efl me your
- name!'
D. 'Wid all the playsure in life ] said be-
y fore, and say again, never done nothin'
Of to make me ashamed of it; an il it aOar a
q sacret even, sure, wouldn't we see il on the
# letther.'
IS 'But don't you understand, | must know
Of your name, to see if there is letter direc-
a ted to that same name 2
" In course it 'ud be directed to that same
d name; that is, 10 my name. Dye think
'Fhady 'ud be afther directing it to Father
Mathew or Dan O'Connell?'
The unfortunate Miss O'Brady was near.
ly driven TO her wits end: and she paused
i to think of some expedient TO 'irasinse' the
e. obtuse inquirer into the necessity of Civ.
III ing his name. At length thought struck
her.
= where Is y'r brother!' she inquired.
In th,oth, an he's in Philadelphia this
r., two year, come Michaelmas.' ....
n %, in Philadelphia 2 she said, turning
IN over the letters, and at last selecting one o.
ed which the post-mark led her to hope she
in in had finally hit the mark.
ut Mr.. Jimmy Nowlan; is this it, she in
It'll quired.
'io 'Throlh, an it's jest itself. All! tho
it was making game Of me, ye war, all ths
tIme!' said the fellow; his broad face dis
IS tending into goo' humored smile. Anr
nv putting the letter into his pocket, he walk
ler ed off; probably in search OF some one
e; who, more learned than himself, could de-
g; cipher what was about as ineligible a:
A. Arabic to him.