Daily globe., 1883-08-30
PAT DELANEY.

there is an exception to it, and so it was
with the subject of our sketch, Pat De-
laney
I am not sure [ am correct in naming
Pat as the subject of the story, mas
much as his gray mare figures as con-
spicuously in it as he himself does; in
short, the story is not of Pat Delaney,
but Of "Pat Delaney and His Old Gray
Mare"
The Irish are proverbially charitable,
hospitable in the extreme All who
have seen or written of them agree in
saying hospitality is one of the chief
characteristics Of the Irish people, but
in this particular respect Pat Delaney
was most decided exception.
He was Of a stingy, grasping, miserly
disposition, utterly regardless how he
made money, so that he made it, and
deaf to the applications of the needy
who sought relief at his hands.
He was farmer-one of the better
class-and cultivated large farm in
one of the northern counties of Ireland,
and, though possessed of considerable
wealth, was so mean and despicable in
his nature that stranger, Judging from
his appearance, would readily take him
for a mendicant, because Pat consid-
cred it vastly extravagant to be guilty
of trifing outlay to clothe himself
anew, while he could by any means
manage to make his old garments cover
him.
Among his cattle was an old gray
mare, which Pat himself always drove,
and the trappings Of this associate of
many years were in strict accordance
with the proprietor's character worth
less.
When told that, in addition to being
so exceedingly avaricious, Pat was also
superstitious in the extreme, the reader
will be able to form some idea of his
character.
Beside the produce Of the farm,
there was another source of wealth Pat
profted largely by. This was selling
meal on credit at a very exorbitant
rate to the poor Of the locality, who,
possessed Of small farms, were thus
able, by giving him a note on the grow
ing crop, to secure its payment.
II not able to satisfy him beyond the
possibility Of doubt that he would be
paid, he certainly would not supply the
wants Of those who appealed to him;
but, when thus satisfied, the desire to
add to his wealth more than balanced
the feeling Of regret he always expert
enced at parting with anything even for
time.
Now to our story. It was hot, sui
try day in July that Pat put the we'll
worn harness on his gray mare and pro-
ceeded toward the mountain for load
of turf.
The American reader may not know
what "turf" is. "Turf" is fuel, and
serves the Irish peasantry of the rural
districts as coal does our citizens here.
Moss. cut into pieces the shape of a
brick, but about twice the length, is,
when thoroughly dried, called "turf, :"
and makes an excellent fire. @Turf is
cut with turf spade, peculiar in shape,
and we'll adapted for this special use.
Seated in his old, creaking wagon,
and every once in while urging along
his miserable animal that was attached
to it, Pat proceeded.
He passed close to the cottage of Mrs.
Hogarty, a very poor widow who had
for some days previous been meditating
an appeal for meal; but, Pats character
istic5 being we'll known to her, she had
but little hope of succeeding in getting
any.
She saw Pat approaching, and at
once resolved to embrace the oppor-
tunity, and set her mind at rest con-
cerning the meal. She accordingly
came down Ae path to the highway,
and accosted him with:
"Good-morrow, Pat. How are ye
sir?"
"Good-morrow, Peggy" he replied
"T'm bravely, troth, considering the
kind iv times we hev."
"The kind iv times did ye say, Pat
Musha, it's meself that thinks you know
little indeed iv the times; it's me and
the likes o. me knows the times is hard
very hard, and no mistake!"
"It's thrue for you, poor crethur,
said Pat, in sympathetic tone, and ht
got out of the wagon and walked up tx
the cabin to get a light for his pipe
while the mare, taking advantage O
the opportunity, began cropping the
grass by the wayside.
"It's thrue for ye," said he, as he re
i 81. IL