Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1888-12-22
copyrighted 1881

L -
| copyrighted 1881
| Special Correspondence of THE EVENING STAR.
Ireland in the Christmas holiday-time il
scenically perhaps in it's least pleasing aspect
The straits and privations of fully 1000, 900 Of
her remaining $500. 600 inhabitants are also in
their direst tense and mood. But natures
hand IL loving one even in the Irish winter
and the blessed hold that Christmas-time has
taken upon the universal Christian-world heart
blended with that marvellous comparative
power Of utilizing the most tri1ing possibili-
ties for human Joy which the Irish nature pos
sesses, permits and provides quality of Christ
mss-time cheer which is often surprising to
| those whose lives are measurably filed with
bounteousness and content.
OF the outdoor life of the Irish winter. where
it can be separated from the unfortunate con-
dition OF those to whose eyes winter can be
only an added danger and terror. Burroughs
or a Thoreau might furnish a winsome volume
| The Irish roads. though humid with wet from
| frequent rains. dusty from a weeks occasional
cold and bracing weather. whitened from
center to wall with the frost Of early morning.
are ever source Of exhilaration and delight
Here one will sweep up and on and over in
creasing swells Of upland to the eve the brown
walls Of its side climbing like delicate russell
spires to where the way is lost in the hazy edge
| Oh DrOWn-8Tdy "A 1llllet, Win MS DiaSi-
cal power of rude still-life suggestiveness,
should have put this scenic reach on canvass.
AN IRISH SCENE.
Here an Irish winter road swails along and
through an avenue of beech, yew, and syca-
more, where twilight always lies,'where now
the brown leaves eddy and swirl, and spring
/ witchingly from dark corners upon passing
carts or humans. and the bare old limbs above
cry out in their wild kaens for the dead year.
There, they creep down together. crossing as
| they pass a huddled mass of wall and thatch.
Over yonder you can see chalky way winding
and cleaning through dreary wastes Of boggy
peat. Beyond. another threads mountain
side, loosing itself in witching defles, or sud-
denly reaching the edge Of precipices. and
! then winding gracefully around lower sleeps.
| as if to reach the warmest valleys. And what en-
trancing scenes are ready for him who will walk
| these grand old roads, For nature-lover or artist
within one short half-days tramp, you may
| feast on gray, drear crags around which the
heather never fades; river Of murmurous. sim
| uous sweetness and beauty; cabins innumera-
Bile, with their ragged hopeless, but ever
hospitable, inmates; hamlets with wonderful
old trees. shops. homes. and old. old. folk and
ways; manor-house with mournful tokens of
the rare and roaring mirth that once held sway.
but still standing sturdy and gaunt within neg
lected grounds where cattle browse for winter
! food; mansion of the rich and feared. or fear
| ing and rich, where noble forests hide ap-
!
that age when Irish baronies were parceled ont
| to crown-adventurers. men made serfs. and
mighty structures reared by these new made
slaves to perpetuate their own servitude;
| CASTLES OF LATER DAY
raised as exquisite architectural monuments
to enlighten greed and tyranny; and both set
deep or high in demesnes of az magnificent
natural and cultivated beauty as can be found
by man; moors of dark, dreadful blackness
| md az hnn
rotting. but hiding Ireland's sole fuel, and her
prehistoric forests which stand upright and
| perfect beneath the mire; bridge of greatest
! age and quaintest arch lonesome. pallid cross,
| cut clear and sharp against the hazy brown of
mOuntaiD-side; deserted shrine hiding in
wretched solitude and decay; ruin of splen-
did proportions and antiquity screamed over
| by days and half shronded in ivy; and
| here and there and all about. in brightest
| or savagest mid-winter days. glinpses of
| Ireiands matehless green. When one expe-
| riences it all and endeavors to hold il in
! single thought, the certain reflection comes
| that in no land where one may wander at
Christmas-time can there be found such sur
! passing blending of, and such striking con-
trast in, the grandly desolate in scenes of won
der and marvellous sweetness and in scenes of
winsome delight. But your heart would fasten
to the lowly things of Ireland, instead of that
| which is impressive and great. 1t would find
charm in the little places; the tiny burns and
dingies; the little struggling hamlets. where all
who give them life must know of you as you
pass Or nger; the quaint little chapels; the low
rooted huts; the lowly folk, and. if you loved
| the road. field and sky, the Irish birds of an
Irish mid-vinter.
THE srARLINGs
Starlings are seen in myriads. They are
| everywhere. reminding one of Stearnes startling
with its ceaseless wall Of Il can't get out!' Il
can't get out" 1t ia only within half dozen
hayp all fbx
They formerly only came when the sparrow de-
parted, and the nature-wise Irish peasant eve
| ing their rushing ingathering about the fields.
cabins. and old ruins, would savagely mutter,
The divii take the same. for its winter that's
wild em!" Beneath the cottage thatch. in
lonely round-towers. and even in caves. their
winter numbers seem greater than those of
summer. as they congregate within easy obser-
| walton by homeside and roadside fields. Full
OF life the winter long gay and bright, even
| almost tiresome with their thrush-iike calls
and impish mimicry, they serve not only for
the cheeriest mid-winter enlivenng. but many
| a brace of these brave birds are found within
the peasants Christmas pot. That sweetest of
all birds to poet or dreamer, the song-thrush.
is also here at Christmas-time. Emerging from
hidden retreats along with the life and shine of
sunny day, it comes to hedge, fir-twig. or leaf
less branch OF sycamore, and ever near to hui
man habitation AZ if to help and cheer. pour
ing upon the crlspy air its olden notes and
awakening. like some sudden sense OF absent
love, the heaven OF rarest summer days.
FIELD-FAREs.
On every hand, and strangely enough only
on winter days in Ireland, the beautifully
plumaged feld-fares gather in meadow and
field, timid, hesitant wary with alert sentinels
posted to give instant warning of danger. and
one longs to know the secret of their pensive,
low-toned tales. The lustrously- plumayed
pheasant, scorning the demesne preserves.
| wanders in woods of ancient growth, skulls in
| copse and hedge, or haunts the borders of
| meadows and shrubbery. flashing his bewilder-
ing colors before hungry peasants ewes. or
rising with sudden whirr and startle or delight
| you upon the road. The rock, that endless
victim Of the ''scarecrow," 'clapper," and all
| manner OF extermnating stratagem, more
alert, noisy, watchful and voracious than in
| simmer, helps swell the Irish mid-winter
! throng. Jackdaws quite as at home in ancient
towns as in Wondering ruins, proud of their
station and manners, contented with O strong
| foreign government or home-rule, have more
! to do than any other thing in nature in giving
| the dreary, deserted places of Ireland and
especially of Ireland's winter, a SAVIOR of some
| thing better than desolation complete Their
complacency as they gather upon castle walls.
the jagged heights of crumbiing ruins, or
within the lofty windows CT gloomy towers.
as If conscious Of comprising all the MARK
Tapleys' Of the air, win for them a certain
! admiration and respect. The sparrow is here,
| az it is everywhere, with its vicious. pickering
Il