The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1886-08-23
hand Of The Dsasan. e the delicate fingers Of the

landlord has horrible smell of slavery
In Ireland the landlord does absolutely moth
Ing save 70 grab all the money that the peasant
can scrape together. / am an Irish landlord
have always done, now do and will continue to
do just as the other landlords for it is as impos
sible for me as the rest of my class to do other
wise; but that does not prevent me from acknowl-
edglng the fact that it is q wornout system, at
war with the nineteenth century and something
that should be at once abolished In ireland
every chicken that goes into the pot, every glass
OF champagne drunk, every silk robe that
rusties on the street, every rose worn at the
ball IS so much squeezed out of the misery of
the peasants howell few years ago this srib-
ute-for that is what it is--was accepted without
murmur, just feudalism or slavery was
accepted long ago in other lands. But now the
scales have fallen from the eyes of the nation,
and the sore is laid bare in all it's ugliness, just
as If the inner garment had been removed from
the national body, revealing the flesh covered
with scars and pustules. This wound which
hitherto was only visible to a few, you now see
everywhere IN the most squalid districts OF the
city as we'll as in the most elegant and fashion
able quarters
See that man yonder, ill-bred and dressed in
WORKOUT suit, smoking black pipe at the end
OF the weed-invaded terrace of the villa he has
rented Tor the reason. He is engaged In CONVEX
sation with his daughter young girl whose face
is the picture of sadness and who is now wear
ing her best dress, that skirt of torn cashmere,
buttoned at the back. She is telling him that he
costume
tennis or garden party in the neighborhood. He
growls, and tells her that he thinks it would be
much better for her not to accept any invitations
to tennis parties for the present year.
w hat she answers, do you want me, then,
to die old maida You do not give me the least
chance to catch husband; am not allowed to
go to single place of amusement and no young
man is ever invited to the house.
AT last the father, with groan, draws forth
from his pocket roll Of bank notes. black.
anU and vas 81 40 hal has han
torn and cut in halves and pasted together again;
notes that smell of chimney smoke, of novels, OF
the sweat of the fields and bitches; notes that
have been spat upon for good luck by their own
ers at fairs notes that epitome of the
hunger and suffering of the peasant in the west
of Ireland.
1.-THE girl goes off skipping and hopping with
three or four of the greasy notes to buy new
dress and to dream of the husband she will never
get. while the father relapSes into his dark rev.
erie, crashes his teeth at the Land League and
dreams of the possibility of extracting from his
tenants in the autumn what they refused to pay
him in the spring. and /, as behold the picture
the greasy notes, the young girl hunting a hus-
band, the broken down landlord and the half
tumbling villa, framed by it's garden of weeds
read in all that as in the epitaph on tombstone,
the history of type of civilization about to
vanish forever.
'The character of Dublin consists in the fac.
that it has no characteristic feature at ALL 1t 10
neither nice nor ugly, ancient nor modern, but
all these qualifications may be applied to it in
the same sense as they may be applied to sec
ond- hand clothes store. Dublin reminds me CT
an old-clothes shop where hall-robes. ceremonial
frippery, morning trousers, Amazonian cos
tunes, Wellington boots. lace mantelets and so
FORTH are all jumbled together for sale or to let
Nothing In it seems to belong to any body IN par
ticular. though it appears that everybody wore
each one of these articles some day or other. Or
Dublin resembles an aquarelle painted by an old
maid governess.
"The houses look down on you with we-are-
poor but honest sort of air. and in their antiQuat-
ed elegance they seem to bend forward and make
their humble courteses like women that saw
better days. Others assume fashionable airs
and exhibit themselves like a cocotte of uncer-
tain age in a provincial town. Boxes of rotting
flowers on the windows torn red blinds, rusty
gates, and gaunt yards exhaing the sckening
stencil Of unspeakable filth, add to this the jan
gle of hundred pianos; fancy a society OF i'll
bred upstairs the hunt for manageable
young girls, composed OF a few lawyers and the
bartenders of all the taverns swing all that
around to the music of waltz from o'clock in
the evening until in the morning. with an in
terval of only three hours for refreshments, and
you will realize perfect picture of the external
aspect of Dublin society.
1'Scene-A ballroom. Persuasive officers
and charming young girl
First Officer-By Joye, what pretty girl
that's You have been dancing with! A perfect
Juno! You must present me to her.
'SocODO Oulc0r-Y oS. S16 looks splendid, OuG
I don't think she will interest you very much;
she is quite ordinary. you know.
Ordinary, with that facet Impossiblep
"The two gentlemen approach the radiant
beauty, and the one who found her ordinary
sinks away. leaving her with the other who
considered her divine. lent an anxious ear to
know how this acquaintance, SO happily begun,
would turn out. Overcome with emotion the
lover seeks in vain for words. Will he begin by
talking of the weather, or of the excellence of
the courts of justice. now important ques-
ton! At last the lady breaks the silence. and,
while her admirer is waiting in breathless ex-
pectancy. she exclaims, after having slowly ex-
amined him from head to foot: Dear me, Cap
tain. what little foot you have gotP
'Qn every door in Marion square there is
brass plate. There are more doctors of law,
men of law and judges in Dublin than in any
other city in the world. Dublin is a city of
functionarles. Every man wears the red ribbon
of the Castle in his button hole, and many
woman could be found who makes garters of
them. Nobody in Dublin society reads and
nobody thinks. To be considered a man OF
fashion IN Dublin society you need only to have
seen one or two pieces on the London stage be-
fore they six months ole and to damn the
Land League. In DGubin high life have met
young who had never read Thackerays
Vanity Fair and young women who had never
heard of Leonardo da Vinci. / have met a club
man who believed me when 1 told him that
Richard Wagner was a great raiser of horned
cattle. Dublin is in a state of barbarism, and,
what is still worse, In a state of retrogression.
General Grants Wabash Bonds.