Mower County transcript. [volume] (Lansing, Minn.) 1868-1915, 1874-05-07
AUNT LORA'S LONG AGO.

Twas visiting Ireland and my great
aunt for the first time. Her lovely
home, Glen-bawn, nestled at the base
of one of the Wicklow mountains
Sugarloaf. It was the Winter of 1867,
and all our neighbors of note had NOV
ed into Dublin, driven from the lonely
hills by the terrors of the Fenian move
ment which was the one engrossing
topic in every mouth and with every
class.
I had come over to Christmas with
auntie, as my father had been obliged
to leave Unexpectedly for the West
1ndies-a hurried journey, on which it
was inexpedient for me to accompany
him; SO our London home was shut up
and was consigned to the care OF his
Irish aunt, of whom had often heard,
but whom had never seen. She had
welcomed me lovingly; We had held q
consultation on my first arrival at Glen
bawn, and had decided on biding at
home in auntie's own cosy nest amid her
home duties, rather than spend an idle
Winter in unhomelike lodgings in
town SO I settled down as contentedly
as might be to wear away the months
which lay between me and my fathers
homecoming.
We had pleasant talks in the long
evenings when the curtains were drawn,
the turf-fire heaped up with an oaken
log in its ruby heart. it's ruddy glare
striving with the soft steady light Of tho
wax candles which burned in old silver
branched candlesticks on every table
and bracket in the pretty quaint draw
ing-room, Aunt Lora's tiny but stately
figure, with it's rich black silk and deli
cate laces, the soft silver hair rolled
back and almost covered by cloud of
lace fastened by large diamond pins
and floating far below her waist. She
was simply lovely, and I used to look
up at her from my pet lounge on the
soft white rug with the passionate ad-
miration of q girl for the first realiza-
tion of her ideal woman. To me-
insignificant brown mouse that was
with all her seventy years she seemed
perfectly lovely.
One night when we had talked long
while of the foolish Fenians-of the sad
sad story of poor, lovely Ireland, with
her desolate cabin-homes and exiled
children; then it was she told some
bits of her long ago.
II was born" auntie said, "in the
terrible '98, when the rage and hatred
which had smouldered for years among
the Irish peasantry burst into o flame
which enveloped and scathed the whole
country-s side. Centuries of misrule had
laid the train measures of repression
necessary, it may be, but certainly
severe, nay, cruel-applied the spark.
habeas corpus was suspended; govern
ment spies lurked on every side; the
horses of the poor farmers were impress
ed for baggage transport; the concur
renee of seven magistrates was sufficient
warrant to consign to the Fleet, almost
without even the form of q trial, any
number of persons found at unlawful
assemblies; soldiers were billeted with
out the least pretence or regard had to
right or justice, and the conduct Of the
yeomanry was in too many instances
aggravating beyond measure. 1 have
heard the story of those days from my
mother-your great grandmother, dar-
ling. Ny father lodged whole regi.
ment of ycomanry here in this old house,
with it's outbuildings. Looking back
in quiet after-years it seemed to me
like dream too wierd and dreary to
have been more than dream-the qui.
ct homestead filled with armed men,
the kindly country sounds silenced in