The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1875-10-08
months notice and nothing to pay" the

that's more than three-score years. He
never lost penny on one of the cabins, and
one of US was never day behind with six
pence o. rent. Can CloOuanore say that,
Mr.. Hayes sir? Go back to the big house
and tell His Honor that Judy Merrick is
going to die in the cabin she lived in, or on
the heap of stones ye level it to-"
'Come, come that's all nonsense. Sec /
that you are ont, bag and baggage, before
the 1st of January the, ,bailiff said, roughly
laying his hand on the old woman's shoul-
der.
Don't touch me, ye miserable creaturer'
she cried, shrinking back. ''Don't lay yer
dirty hand on me- We black hearted villain.
Look at him, eighbors, mark him, TIE ecic-
tor! It's all his doln's and his, ,''-pointing
to the agent. ''Mark them, Willie! Don't
forget their evil faces -
"Tll not forget them, granny" Willie
Merrick said sternly, with quvering lips
and flashing eyes; ''and if ever have
chance, God help them both.''
''Ochn' Judy cried, lifting up her hands
! ''may God forget them at their greatCst
need, and forgive them like as do now -
and she went in and sat rocking herself for
many hours over the fire.
The 1st of January 1S5- was a bleak,
wild day, with fierce east wind, driving a
cutting, bitter sleet before it. The sea and
sky, of gray leaden hue, seemed to meet
you could scarcely distinguish one from
the other; aad the storm ragged along the
desoiate coast
The village of Cloonabcg presented a
very pitiful sight that New Years day-a
sight once seen, never to be forgOtten-a
sight which impressed itself on the memory
with burning intensity-the sight of an evic-
ton All words are inadequate to describe
the scene--it is something one must look on
to thoroughly comprehend. That morning
on the common, wherever a stunted shrub
offered the fainteSt shelter from the bitter
east wind. the people were sitting huddied
together, or lying on their poor beds to keep
themselves warm, waiting for the demoli-
tion of their cabins women weeping bit
terly, children shivering, and men with
folded arms, and set teeth, and blanchei
faces-men poor. ignorant, homeless, yet
exercising a selfcontrol wonderful and
touching. The lane leading to the village
was also lined on each side by the unfortu-
nate people; and the bailiifs came with
picks to begin their work, the women
greeted them with a terrible cry.
The men were silent, calmly, grandly ST.
lent. They could have easily beaten off the
intruders-they could have chased them
into the sea, or dashed their brains out
against the rocks but what would it avail?
Others would como and take their places
for Cloonabeg was doomed. The men
/ looked passive!y on as they their homes
levelled to the earth-as they saw cabin
after cabin fall in.
Opposite the door, Denis Connor and his
wife and daughter sat waiting for the end
, before starting for Galway. In vain they
eBtreated Judy MerIick to accompany them;
she would not leave her cabin. Grim and
resolute she sat on her bed, and declared
solennly that out she would not go. And
her grandson, Willie? Poor fellow, he was
in Galway jail on a charge of attempted
murder. Mr.. Hayes, the agent, had been
fired at aud without any hesitation he ac-
cused Willie Merrick, and the bailiff swore
he heard the young man threaten him so
lle was committed to stand his trial at the
spring assizes.
When The men came to Mrs. Merricll
house, and found her still inside, tlrey
paused in dismay, but the head baiIiff7s or
der came sharp and decisive: go on -
and shower of dust and stones about poor
Judy'S ears showed that they were going
on without any mistake. Then Denis Con
nor rushed in, and seizing the woman in his
arms, carried her out, just as the roof gave
way bnt he might as well have left her in
her dearly loved cabin, for Judy Merrick
was dead The first desecratng blow
struck to the roof which had so long shell
tered her, had stiled her heart forever
All through that dreary winter-day tire
people sat shiveriug by the wayside,
mourning over their ruined, desolated
homes, and at night some few of them were
sheltered i'll barns and out-houses, while
others lay under the hedges or on the fallen
cabins. The next morning, vans came and
took the very old and sick to the worhhouse,
and those who were able to walk and work
went hither and thither in search of en-
ployment.
All this time His Honor, the landlord,
was enjoying his honeymoon on the shores
of Lake Lamar, and knew no more about
the fearful scene enacted in Cloonabeg than
his somewhile tenants about his locality.
The agent thought the little village in the
way the common would, he fancied, make
a valuable piece of pasture>lapd; and so he
wrote to his master, and said the houses
we've only dilapidated dens declared the
tenants never did, could or would pay
any rent and then the best thing for all
parties was to pull the cabins down, as the
people would then emigrate TO America