Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-06-02
BOUND FOR AMERICA.
SceEss Attending the Departure Of
Ireland's Oppressed for
THE LAND OF HOPE AND FREEDOM.
Conveying" the Emigrants to the Point Of
Embarkation.
THE STRUGGLE TO RAISE THE FUNDS

lcoRREsPoNDEEcE OF THE DrsPArcH.l
CORK, IRELAND, May 20.-It may we'll
be imagined that when from 200 to 300
souls leave Ireland for foreign shores every
working day in the year. there are heart
and hand wringings innumerable, and
dolorous mists from the region of tears.
Few families are fortunate enough to get
away all together. (. If help has come from
America; If the passage money has been
saved in secret through years of deprivation
by a single person; if an Irish family has
after every manner of sacrifice provided for
the freedom of one who is to go to blessed
America that the remainder may, one by
one, eventually be released from slavery
however the going Of all these wretched
people may have come about, in every in
stance there is struggle in tearing away
from the things to which the heart is rooted
which, we Of better fortune and conditions
know nothing about.
So many Of these scenes have I now wit
messed that I am beginning to have some
little conception of the real bravery of this
act of illiterate, unframed men and women
pushing boldly across the sea into untried,
unknown walks and ways, with love, hope
and determination for ones own at the
bottom Of it all that have more real heroism
in them than the average American is ever
able to comprehend in his whole life.
However lowly, poor and desperately
ood-for-naught the prospective emigrant
may have all his life been regarded among
his fellows, the great and generous Irish
heart in those around him melts into sur
passing interest and tenderness when he
comes to leave his neighborhood, and those
whom he has been never so little part of
through the bitter days that have encom-
compassed all. For every departure re-
awakens the heart-aching memories of other
departures; and in every Irish home ever
shared there is an empty chair whose
former occupant is somewhere beyond the
sea.
A LAST GOODBYE.
If it be family who are to 60, or some
elderly man or woman, for days previous to
the departure the whole countryside swarms
to the cabin; and every man, woman or
child of the townland at some time or an
other has come to mourn at the leaving and
bid God-speed at the going. If it be youth
or lass, or young man or woman, as it oftener
is, for few but the very old and very young
are left, then, on the evening previous to
the departure every companion, friend or
acquaintance is certain to appear; and the
whole night is passed in what is called
"rising the heart of the departing one.
The custom springs from the same kindly
quality of extending cheer to those who
mourn, that originally established the Gus
tom of the Irish "wake," which our good
American people choose to persistently mis-
understand and condemn.
At this gathering for "rising the heart"
of the emigrant, the Irish peasants charac-
ter is in most tenderly interesting state
for study. Every one arrives in hushed,
embarrassed mood; and every one brings
some little token of affection and regard.
The poverty of these folk alone prevents
outlandish generosity. One stealthilY ap-
pears with yards of seedcake; many with
thimblesful of tea; some with gew-gaws and
trifes ofjewelry; the coat tail pockets of
another will bulge with heartsome potatoes;
housewives arrive with great methers of
milk, others with schowders, or oaten
cakes, crisp and toothsome, still others with
schrabags of shilk, hearty mixture of po-
tatoes, beans and butter, and some with
apronsful of peat for the slender resources
of the family must never under any trying
circumstances be drained.
And the lads and lasses who come with
pressed Irish flowers and ferns, and sprigs
of hawthorne and bunches of the dear
shamrock; with gifts of ribbons, and bits of
this or that priced possession; are not to be
counted at all. So, too, come those with
looks of triumph and secreted bottles of
poteen, that "never got a touch" that is,
are puiltless of the exoiseman's desecrating
seal; for "grief is ever droothv" surely.
Then the night is passed eating, feasting
and drinking. Loads of humble fare are
there; oceans of tea; and timely drops of
the 'rale mountain dew" Tales are told;
songs are sungs; sometimes they dance to
the music of an old tramp fiddler who has
been pressed into service. But the chords
of mirth are minor enough the night long;
and smiles, laughter and brave prophecies
are all touched and chastened by honest
Irish tears.
A PECULIAR CEREMONY.
When morning comes, and those whose
imperative duties call them TO their homes
have said good-by with almost the same
dread, reverence and pathetic forlornness
as when lowering the dead into the grave,
the rustic ceremony of conveying" is be-
gun. The subject Of all this attention be-
comes for the once, if for only this once in
a lifetime, the hero or heroine of the honr.
The chests, or plethoric bags, or whatever
constitutes the luggage of the emigrant, is
sent on ahead in some neighbor's profered
cart, friendly riots for the honor of the
mournful privilege often occurring, or are
slung over the backs of shaggy donkeys, a
score more than necessary always being in
readiness for the friendly mission.
If a whole family are to 60, the farewells
to the wretched old hut which has housed
them is something pitiable beyond deserip-
ton. If it be but single member of the
household, the good-bys to che old old
folk too feeble for the journey of Convoy"
are more pitiable still. These separations
are often too great load for such, and
many a withered branch of the impoverished
family tree breaks and falls into the earth
from the keen, sharp sorrow. But if girsha
or bouchal, the pride of the loved home,
are departing, the maelstrom of emotion as
the convoy" or accompanying procession,
sets forth, is beyond the power OF man to
reveal.
On many occasions during my wanderings
afoot in Ireland, l have. come upon these
excited crowds, as they were starting from
the home; as they struggled down mountain
boreen; as, they Jagged and walled along
the great stone highways; or as they neared
some railway station from whence the emil
grant must depart to the seaport city; and
making myself one of the molly Convoy
ers," have thus tramped with them miles
upoi their sorrowful way. Sometimes these
grewsome professions will come from point
a score of miles away in the mountains, OF
remote valley districts; and though no one
has ever seemed to think these touching and
characteristic scenes worth place in Irish
literature, they are common enough from all
points and on all ways from which Cork
and Queenstown may be reached, and:
Heaven knows, pathetic enough to appeal
to the whole world through artists pencil,