Morning appeal. [volume] (Carson City, Nev.) 1877-1906, 1885-03-18
rnk sMAnRoCK OF IRE-
LAMB.

IL the Plant . Failed Fiece 81
yegetatlons
"There's dear little plant that grows
| in our isle,
."Twas Saint Patrick himselfsure that
set 1T:
ure did smile,
And with dew from his eyes often we,
| it.
ut thrives through the brake, through
the bog and the mire-land,
"And they call it the dear little Sham
| rock of Ireland"
About the easiest thing for an
Irishman to do il to write poetry
on the shamrock Of Ireland. The
writer has often wondered why
.every freshman in America does
not have a shamrock planted in
his door yard An inquiry as to
the reason for this oversight never
draws out a satisfactory explain
alton. As near as they ever come
| to it, is some remarks about the
climate not being adapted.
Mr. Joseph Goodman ex-editor
of the Enterprise, once gave the
writer an astonishing account OF
his experiences in hunting a sham
! rock in Ireland.
eve started out in the morning
to get a shamrock, as [ was deter
mined to bring some back to Am
erica and see if it would grow here.
The landlady said that there was
any amount Of it just over the hill
by the church, so we walked over;
and after prospecting with no re-
suits, found a boy lying ID the
grass watching COW. In response
to our inquiries he said there used
to be 'slathers' of it there, but the
tourists had taken it all away, but
there was an old tower just beyond
where it grew so thick that you
conldn't get through it. We took
the direction indicated, and found
the tower, but no shamrock. There
was an old woman however, living
near, and she told US where there
was plenty Of it up near lake,
So We trudged on about a mile
and soon reached the spot she
pointed out, and found almost cv-
cry conceivable plant except the
shamrock. So We wandered all
day and met scores Of people who
went out Of their way to put US on
the track Of the plant, but it kept
evading US like the willie thewisp
and we got back to the inn late at
night with no shamaeck. When
We teld the landlady how We had
Jared, she almost tainted away with
astonishmezt. Well, in our
journeyings through Ireland, We
made industrious search for the
Shamrock but found lone, although
everybody said that the country
was full Of it. Finally We made
everything subservient to hunting
shamrock, and after three months
search and No little expense, l gave
it up.
OF course / do not pretend to
say that there is no such thing
in botany as a shamrock, but
I am really Of the opinion that
the plant was born in the fertile
imagination of some ancient Irish
poet, and has lived in tradition
ever since and will live for all time.
In the minds of the Irish people,
history has cast its halo about it;
the poets have immortaliZed it, and
now it Crews fresh and green in
memory and story; to delicate to
draw a sustenance from the vulgar
soil. It's roots go down deep into
the past, and its leaves, kissed by
the perpetual sunshine Of Irish
alteration, and nurtured by the
blood Of Irish patriotism, is as
everlasting as Time ITSELF
Here Mr. Goodwin poured ar
other thimble-full of good Irish
whiskey into his glass, added lit
tie sugar, and as he stirred the
compound with a spoon, gazed
away into space, silently, and un-
mindful of the confused mingling
of voices about the table, and
moved not until the prosaic bar
keeper dropped the clashing
change down before him, and said
it was time to close up.
Steamer Notice.