The Sunday herald. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1866-1887, 1880-05-23
MARY SHEA.

THE following beautiful and true story is
told by w. Steuart Trench agent ot the Marquis Of
Lansdowne, and manager ot his estate OF Kenmaic.
II was from this estate that In less than four years
forty-six hundred pauper emgfants were sont 10
America after the potato famine. No good person
can regret that such immigrants as Eugene and his
bride Mary Shea we're aided toour shores II Eugene
and his wife afro now in California we may be sure
that they good citizens and have not spent thet
Sabbath days upon the Satd-lot disappearing cod
that their homes were made In this land of liberty and
plenty,
: The writer, after describing the anxious crowds
that throngod about his Office Tor permission TO emil
crate, aud after relating how he compelled TO
guard his grounds from Intrusion upon his hours of
relaxation and leisure, says.l
was walking one evening in thoseprlvate plensQte-
grounds after day Of heavy labor In the oce, when
thought perceived pair Of bright dyds Watching
me through the leaves 81 scie holly bushes with which
the wood nbcunds. stcrte' Immediately, and asked
ION, indeed, Your honor. IT. only mo; and know
Ws Against the rules OF the Office to come here. hu
.we wasn't waiting at the or,ce-door all dpy, auc
They woulnt let me In, because They sa'a Vas well
able to hold out stu and vasntN'gh SO weak asmany
enough; Int WrN they didn't know that had ten
long mcS to 90 home before night: aud SO, as some
rau your honor was good man. though said not,
Thought would lust chance In for once and maybe
your honor would find time to speak Ia poor desc.
late orphan like me, even though II Is against tho
rules.
''rhe desclatc orphen, " who how came forward
and exhibited not otey her bright eyes but her fun
form TO my view, was somewhat singular In her ap-
peatauce. She had but little Of the original Celt In
her features Her beauty was purely spanish, OF
which have seen many perfect specimens IN ruosist
and around Kenmnre large soft eyes. with beautiful
dark downy eyelashcs, the mouth well formed, and
cheek Of classic mould; while the figure, perfect In
Its symmetry, Is erect aud active, and exhibits hight,
ness OF step aud grace Of motion which tately IAN he
attained but Ivy constant practice IN walking the
mountains, The norm which now stood before me
was q beautiful specimen Of this perfect spanish
type. she Was clean aud neat In her person, though
hpt MI vata ,G lin tltI
made Of light gray flannel or trlczc, manufactured IN
the morntans where she lived. crossed upon her
bosom aud extended up to her neck. Her hair, as
black as Jet, was neatly parted her forehead. and
hung In careless folds down her back She had neither
shoes nor stockings. and her dress did not down
to within seven or eight Inches OF her feet She
no shawl which Is common In the district, about her
neck. She held her head erect AS startled fawn.
Her hands raercd III an attitude Of wild sppli
cation, anu the sytnfnetfy OF her form enhanced
10y the Unusual addition OF n leather strap bucked
around her waist. which. though neither NEW nor
naturally beautiful figure to the hest advantage.
The moment she appeared fitim behind the holly
hush. She commenced her Grafton. Aot talking
with vonellity and amount Of action which It would
lie impossible To describe, her features became AMI
mated and the blood mounted 10 her checks. have
rarely seen so beautiful and natural girl. think
she knew she was beauty, and had 'ChanCed'' q
little Of the success of her visit upon that SCORE
well as upon my goo,'ness' but there was no van
Ivy or cQquetiy Ill her manner-se was perfectly nat
nfal and simple, and. regards beauty, sointcgcnt
s,fl as she was could not possibly look ut her re-
Election IN ono of her own dark mountain lakes and
not see that she was different from her neighbors
She had watched my conntenance with the quick
ness of an Irish peasant during the whole time she
was speakng anil, In fact felt certain that she had
prolonged her statement for that sole purpose in or.
der to form an estimate of her success, or vary her
line OF advnnce according as circumstances revealed
themselves. saw this perfectly at the time: hut my
Interest In her yivacious courage great, and
my admiration of her beauty so impossible To conceal
that she saw In moment though had not spoken n
word, that she had won her point.
- An! well knew your honor had q good and kind
heart within you.' said she. coming forward with
turned ilat,ery. ''And now, maybe ia never have
another opportunity and oh! Just listen to III
tell you what have to say, for mino Is sore, sore
sorrow.''
In moment her whoie c0inlenancc. almost her
form, had caitgoa. Her courage-some of which she
had evidently derived from her beauty--secmed to
down upon the ground, and even her form seemed TO
lose many Inches of Its height. | could scarcely have
thought that the same human being before me,
MS she now stood, about TO tell her tale of sorrow.
"what is your name?'' asked, "and where do
~ Mary Shea Is my name y said she, .tnat is my
maiden name; and, Indeed, Iot that matter am not
married yet.
SCARCELY seventeen years of age.''
''rfue for you, - she replied, ''you guessed 1t
very nigh. as am only seventeen next Shroyede. ~
do -,
"I'lltell your honor that, - replied She res,,mng
III moment portion of her previous animation.
genes name in the books, as tenant for the little
place have up In the mounain.''
And who Is Eugenep and how came YOU to have
little place of your own, and you As young you
are?''
'.1ll tell your honor All about it, she replied:
"the way of It all was ti,is,'' and again In mo
ment her co,ntehance changed, er eyeiids dfooreu.
her form seelhed to lose Its height. and with little
hesitation as to where she should begin, SHE COM
'''rhe way of 1t al, was this: your honor was not
here In the hungry year. "a term frequently used
them were terrible times. was only little slip of n
girl then-and sure for that matter I'm not mucl,
more this minute. But my father had little place up
In the mountains, the same what was now talking
about. Well, yor see. lie was an aud man, and my
mother was sckly and they had no other child but me-
and the place was very small and when the potatoes
blackened sure they had no but God to look to.
Father, says Il fear yen die and mother, too.
II f ye don't get something to ate True for ye
great God has roted all the potatoes in the ground
and what other support had we all? and sure the
neighbors are rs bad off as We are.' Mother said
nothing: she looked at father and me- she kissed
once or twice, as II to wish me goodbye, and when
rot up In the morning found her sitting in her
clothes beside the fire, quite dead and stiif-not
month after the potatoes had blackened.
''well, you see we lived far up In the mountains,
and no meal or anything could be got there. except
what brought myself-and twas ten long miles from
die II can help IT, So we had few hives of honey
which the gentlemen liked, because the bees made it
alltn theheatlier, and used to to
and then with hive and bring back little meal Ia
father-we had nocow ms the place too small rear
one. And won't tell your honor lie when say that
ha perth we had TO live on except lust the few
hives of honey; and knew when they were out. and
had no money to buy meal, we might just lie down
all that.
"well, sure enough, after u time the honey wa,
all sold, and smothered the last bee hadthougI In
troth was sorry to do SO, had reared them my
self, and think they knew me as they never once
stung me, though used to sit close to he hive watch.
bptf fni
them to die than father had to smother them
and went down to Kenmarc with n sorrowful heart
that fed father and myself another weary month
and when the meal was out father says TO me: MARY,
dear. US no use striving any longer against the hun
ger. can't stand II. I'm weak and faint. and no,
able TO go out to the public works, and might well
die In the house as on the roads: and mind Mary
dear, when die, bury beside your mother In the
garden, and don't be making any noise about it
calling wake or funeral, for all has enough to dc
these hard times for themselves. 'oh, father, dear,
II can't get something that will keep the life In ye
yet So father said nothing but Just lay down on
some strength and spirit in me yet. And Eugene
and had known each other since were little chill
dren; ! though would Just go to him and see If he
far away on the public works. So had no NOR,
heart and strength to go any farther and had enough
to do to get home. but, oh, sorrow came heavy on
me then, for when called on father, rs came IN
to ask him II God had sent him any food he did moi
answer and when came to his bed, and put my hand
upon sIoTehehu iouii 'hat ne was dead anu cold,
and was left alone In the world.''
Here the poor girl's voice failed; and, commencing
10 weep bitterly, she turned her head away. Ioin,
the tears rising In my eyes, TOO, but,
To turn her thoughts from this sad scene, said:
'Yon have mentioned Eugene once or twice. Who
Is Eugene?' She dried her eyes IN q moment; AMI,
resuniing the natural yivacity Of her manner si,
called aloud to some one who was evidently near n
hand:
Eugene! where are you, Eugene? wouldn
wonder II he was here this ninute!''
And, truly enough, he was: for. slowly emerginl
from the same holly bush where | had observed III,
young damsel's eyes In the first instance. came tan
good looking youth, clean and fair, with cheek n
smooth and free from beard n wonian's. IIe wa
about nineteen twenty years Of age and as basfl
as youth detected under such though
she had evidently hid him there herself-could be,
''Don't he afearcd, Eugene ~ cried the daInsel
''don't be aieared. The gentleman isn't angry
Come and spake to him this minute. lie liz shy, You
honor ~ said she turning to me, In u conciliatoi
voice. as II excusing and patronizng her lover owe
whom she eNlenIlY considered slin Ind a rInaI nn