Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1882-09-01

A Lively Irish story Of Present IN
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Pat Holion was stunted, swarthy,
slavish-looking creature, with n shock of
black shaggy hair which overshadowed
his low forehead, and met his heavy eye
brows. AS the latter extended, without
any division, right across his face, Pat
Holion looked as repulsivc and typical n
descendant of the ancient enslaved Fir
bolg race as could be found in all Con-
naught. He bore, indeed, n strong re-
semblance to two black pigs which grunt-
ed beside him. The animals rather gain
ed by the comparison. The pigs grunted
so did Pat Holion-for the debased col
loquial Irish tongue i'll which he prayed
was as uncouth and as cultural as was
the granting of his own pigs. 1t came
more natural to him to utter his thoughts
i'll Irish rather than in the less familiar
Englisl--but had he spoken in the latter
tongue, this is what he would have said {:
"Holy saints ! want Hanorah Narily
for my wife"
That was the burden of his prayer. He
tried to say more but he was not eloqunt !;
although he felt so much he couldnot utter
it, SO all resolved itself into that one SEN
tcnce. Why Pat Holioa knelt there and
addressed the saints in that particular
spot he would have found it difficult to
explain, save that the crosses stuck in the
pillar which was looked upon with such
superstitious awe, inspired his dim untu-
tored mind with an idea that there was
some peculiar sanctity connected with the
place.
He slouched down the road Immediate
ly fncing the limestone pillar, driving the
pigs before him and soon reached the
village of Gortnaclurra. 1t consisted of
a number of miserable looking little cab
ms, with here and there more preten-
tious slated house, 1t was unpicturesque
to the last degree, sqnalor and dire pov-
erty being its predominant Characters
tics, and as Pat Holion and his pigs
reached the farther end Of the village a
girl stepped forth from one of the little
cabins. From one Of the very poorest
and most miserable looking ones whence
also proceeded sounds of angry alterca-
ton.
Grief of me sowl" calculated Pat
Holion III low tone, as the girl approach
ed him, land are they scoldin you again
Hanorah?"
He spoke in Irish and the girl replied
in the same language. The man gazed
furtively at her, whilst the pigs wallowed
at their own sweet will in the refuse be-
fore the doors of the cabin. She was
about twenty, bare-armed, bare-headed,
and bare-footed. Her uxuriant black
hair was bound in one great knot at the
back Of her well shaped head. Her
sparkling violet-gray eycs-the eyes of
Southern and Western Ireland-were
shaded by long dark lashes, which swept
her flushed, glowing cheek. Hanorah
Varily's red-lpped mouth was shaped
like Cupid's bow, and each time she
spoke or laughed disclosed set Of teeth
like two rowsof motber-of-pearl.
eyes, she replied, 'they are at it
again ! am up since five o'clock this
morn, and worked until an hour ago,
wedding, and now my aunt says I'm not
to go to the dance at Bob Kenealy's.'
The tears stood in her eyes as she
spoke, and finally rolled down her cheeks.
"And promised Pierce Joyce that I'd
dance with him" she continued "Oh, ]
will go must go!"
cts to be a big dance, hear" said
Pat Holion. "Maybe your aunt will LEI
You come"
At this iuncture squeal from one OF
the pigs caused Hanorah to look round.
Inc allllll culhe llylIlB out Oh lne uOOr-
way Of her aunt's cabin, sod of turf
following i'll its wake that again being
followed by big peasant woman "Oh,
you're there y she exclaimed, as she saw
Hanorah. "Come along in here, you
lazy thing, and wipe up the mess that
rutcheen's pigs has made Troth
wonder yeh haven't more pride nor to be
seen talkin' to such crathur, that's more
like pig nor Christian p
Ann Lynch spoke in English. She was
Hanorah's aunt, and the girl, having been
left an orphan during the famine years,
had been brought up by this relative,
for whom she toiled and shaved from ear,
ly morn till night. Hanorah sullenly
obeyed and Pat Holion went on his way
with his pigs, the sharp words of Ann
Lynch ringing through his brain. He
knew he was repulsive-looking, and, to
him, Hanorah Varily was beautiful rs the
dawn. He wished her aunt had not
spoken of him in that way before Hano-