Helena weekly herald. [volume] (Helena, Mont.) 1867-1900, 1886-06-03
A TALE OF THE FAMINE.

In a small village in one Of the most
barren districts of the west of Ireland,
there lived a very poor widow, whose sole
inheritance from her husband was two
healthy children, girls, of the respective
ages OF and ). Painfully, and by the ut
most efforts, she contriyed TO pass two
years Of her sorrowful widowhood. Bad
and scanty food obtained only by labor too
great for her delicate frame, had at last
thrown her upon her sick bed, and death
in pity removed her in a few days, and
without great suffering, from all her
earthly troubles
The poverty Of the parish was so great
that nothing could be done for the poor
orphans. All the neighbors, with the ut
most desire to help, were too famine
stricken. and heard their own children too
often cry in vain for bread to assist
others.
"lf the children could only be got to Kill
burn" village some miles distant, said
one Of the neighbOrs, after the poor
mother had been buried, "a brother OF
their father lives there, and he could not
possibly refuse TO take care of them"
"But matters are as bad there as here,
replied another, "and | fear they will be
no better off there"
at can not possibly be worse than here,
for nothing bat starvation stares them in
the face. If we send them to their relations
we have done our duty. We can not pos
sibly keep them here"
All were at last agreed upon this: and az
there was a carrier, who, on the next day,
was going near to kilburn, he was re-
quested, as an act of charity, to take the
children with him. The man readily con-
sented, and the neiOhbors felt satisfied
that they had done all that could be re-
quired of them.
The carrier. as agreed, came the next
day and took the two girls-Lizzie was
now and Mary sin his cart with him.
The timid children kept very quiet and
close together; the carrier hardly looked
at them. Toward noon they reached the
spot where the cart would turn OF. The
man lifted them out, showed them road
to the left and bade them 90 straight for
ward and if they did rot turn from the
high road they would. in about two hours,
come to the place. lie then drove off.
The chilren sobbed ont "GOOd-bye' and
looked ont after him as long rs they could
see the last speck of the cart, and then
they both began to cry.
Lizzie ceased her crying first, she took
hold Of her little sisters hand, who had
seated herself on the ground, and said:
"Get up, Mary; we must not stay here if
we wish to get to Kilburn. We can not
stop here on the road"
'I am SO hungry" sobbed Mary; 1--WE
have had nothing to eat all day"
And again they began to cry; for Lizzie
was equally hungry The poor children
had gone to bed without food the night
before; it was a long time since they had
had full meal; the neighbors where they
had stayed since the death of their
mother, had not given them any break
fast, as the poor people really themselves
had nothing to eat. It was now dinner
time, but there was no dinner for them.
"Come, Mary" at last said Lizzie, 1--WE
must try 70 get to some house: we may
perhaps get little bread or a few pota-
toes If we stay here we shall starve; no
one will bring us any thing to eat here"
"Oh! if our dear mother were but alive"
exclaimed the little one, getting up with
difficulty
The children were very weak, and could
only drag themselves slowly along. Hand
in hand they tottered on. Several times
Mary declared that she could not go any
further, and sat down on the high road;
and it was with the greatest difficulty that
Lizzie persuaded her to get up again, and
to pursue their way, At last Lizzie fan
cied she saw house and pointed toward
the spot.
"Now Mary, we sholl soon get some
thing to eat; we shall find kind people
there"
It took them more th"r quarter of an
hour before they reached the farm house,
for such it proved 70 ln With hestating
steps they approached the house, for they
had never begged before, in spite of their
former misery. But at this moment they
could think of nothing else but their terri
BILE hunger When few steps from the
house. thev heard the farmer violently
scolding one of his men. Then he went
into the house, fiercely closed the door
after him, so as to make the windows
rattle, continuing his abuse all the time.
The children, terrified and with beating
hearts stood still at the door until the
voice ceased. Then Lizzie opened the
door and both the children entered. The
farmer sat in the armchair by the fire.
"Well, what do you want?" he harshly
asked the children, who were too fright
ened to utter word and to tell their
errand. "Can't you speak," he asked,
still more roughly.
Lizzie at last took courage, and said,
gently:
"Oh, if you would be so good and give
MS the least little bit to eat-a small piece
of bread or few potatoes"
II thought So" shouted the farmer; II
was sure you were nothing but beggars,
although you do not seem to belong to this
neighborhood. We have plenty of those
here, and do not want them to come from
other parts. We have not bread for our
selves in these hard times. You will get
nothing here Be off this moment"
The children, dreadfully frightened,
began both to cry bitterly.
"That will not do you any good" con-
tinued the man. "that kind of whining is
nothing new to me, and won't move me.
Let your parents feed you; but they, no
doubt prefer idling rather than getting
their living by honest labor"
"Our parents are dead" said Lizzie.
II thought So" replied the farmer;
"whenever children are sent out to beg
their father and mother are always
dead, or at least their father That is a
mere excuse for begging. Be off this
minute"
awe have not eaten a morsel the whole
day." pleaded Lizzie; "we are so tired that
we can not move a step. If you would
but give us the least little bit to eat, we
are so hungry"
II have told you I should not. Beggars
get nothing here"
The farmer got up with threatening
look. Lizzie quickly opened the door, and
drew her sister along with her. The chill
dren again stood in the farmyard, but
C--LL~--,,w i:.S'