Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1880-05-07
An Irish Fishing Village.

AL AIISu TISulnS vUlaSc.
did not greatly care how much I
muddied my skirts among these poor
villagers, because I learned to laugh
and weep with them. Uncared for and
forgotten by the world, they seem to
have but one earthly hope. America,
and one dread, hunger. Tho village
possesses no post-ofice; there is no
magistrate within many miles; and the
priest, two leagues distant, serves nu-
merous villages as forlorn as this, and
people are born and die without any Of
fetal note. Many suppose that the
parish priest is the most powerful man
In the kingdom; and it was subject of
supreme surprise and commiseration
when informed them that the Queen
was a widow. On Sundays the inhab-
itants OF the village appear, washed
and shaven into CHASTITY pallor, in the
single street that leads up frem the sea,
and remain all day long gossiping and
fighting, through sunshine and rain, as
II these achievements formed part of
their religious duties. Now and then
the spoils Of wreck are washed to
their shores, and when the coast guards
dispute with them what they consider
the bounty of the sea. fierce encounters
take place, in one Of which, not long
before my arrival. poor villager had
been killed.
| There was scarcely well-thatched
cabin in the village; the floors of most
OF them were as muddy as the roads,
and dotted with little pools of water,
which seemed refreshing feature to
the ducks that came in in quest of food.
| The most sheltered corner of the cabin
is devoted to the pig, and the chickens
seize upon every coin of vantage for
roost. Nets hang from the rafters, and
the equipments of the beats are dis
posed in whatever dry hooks the habi.
tatioa boasts Of. The wtrmest spot on
the hearth is usurped by the cat, cher
ished with great care as the protector
against their terrible enemies, the rats;
and beside it an old woman, who did
not seem to have changed Ter clothes
since her youth, coddled the latest born
of the household. The village was
pervaded with so strong an odor of fish
and tar that less agreeable emanations
were unnoticej. The dung heap was
zealously guarded by the door, have
seen it, indeed, in the very living-room
OF the eccupants-as the riches that
were to prosper their next years potato
crop; and every morning the pig was
sent out to walk, with solicitude for
his health not bestowed upon the other
members of the family. These people
spent three fourths OF their time in
idling and gossiping. 1 saw poor bag
gard old women at the doors of their
cabins, or by the village we'll, who had
to crouch like apes to make their rags
cover them, SO mad for gossip that they
forgot their huGger and the rain that
soaked them; and day after day old men
gathered on the sheltered side of O wall,
and talked with as much interest and
gravity as if they had mover seen each
other before, and every recital was an
unheard-of marvel. Troops of half
clothed and half-starved children
sprawled in the mud, fought among
themselves, or with loud yells crowded
about some poor ass, inilicting all the
torments that their untutored magma
tions could suggest, while their moth
ers, can in hand, whispered. with
amazement written on their faces, of
all they lad heard or seen or dreamed
OF since yesterday in village depend
ent entirely upon itself for its topics of
interest.
Hither, learned, the priest came
once year to hear the confessions of
the inhabitants. They repair to one of
the cabins, where, while the pig. chick
ems, ducks and geese are kept in abey-
ance by the jealous host and hostess,
the rite is celebrated. Among these
people, whose only extravaganza seems
to be on the score of their religion, he
is entertained and requited in q manner
quite out of proportion to the means of
his entertainers: and when departing,
after tho manner of the fond mother in
the story. book, who whipped her chill
dren and put them to bed, he gives
them all sound rating upon their idle
ness and remissness in their religious
observances, and receives in return,
" Long life to your reverence" and
" Godspeed," from his humble tiock.-
j. l.. CLOUD. in UWper's Magazine.