Morning journal and courier., 1889-02-09

side the Connemara flannel. It is spun from the wool of the mountain sheep. These, with goats, donkeys and ponies not unlike those of Cushendal in county Antrim, many of which rove wild in the mountains, are es- sential to the very existence of these hardy people. The great weight of the flannel, es- pecially after it has gone through a rude pro- cess called "tucking," not only provides the bodily warmth required in the chill and misty mountain heights, but gives drapery 1 in pettieoat and braideen it's massive charac- ter. The ordinary female costume consists of white flannel blouse or bodice, over l which is hung at the waist petticoat of flaming red. It is said that eighty yards of 1 Scotch plaid are sometimes pleated into a Highlander's kilt. If one could get near enough to Connemara woman to learn the exact truth, I have no doubt this feat would ! be found surpassed in her stupendous petti- coat.
 Either spinning, weaving, "tucking," mapping" or knitting is chief occupation l in every home. Very little agricultural la- ! bor is carried on in Connemara. Evictions \ of mountain tenant farmers has been so long | going on that the landlords, or rich graziers | who are equally as merciless enemies of the
 Irish peasantry, have converted nearly all the cultivable land into pasture for sheep and cattle. This gives trihing amount of | labor in "minding' the herds. A few of the men are tourists guides among the noun 1 tains. A few more have retained holdings of I n Olt O1 lhHu, IOr WHICH Iu6 C6uLdl IS Oubfa~ geous. But most of the Connemara men l have perforce become part of the great l army of ten to fifteen thousand ''tramp har- vesters" who are annually forced from the
 west of Ireland into the hay and grain fields
 of England and Scotland, and who, after their battles there with the local peasantry, l are barely able to tramp back after a six or | eight months absence to their mountain homes and keep, with the pittance they have 1 thus earned and saved, the thatch above | their loved ones' heads. Those remaining | behind "work in the wool;" do their best at raising few 'praties;' poaeh fish and game | from the streams, loughs and forests; distil \ 8 little poteen in the mountain fastnesses; rear few sheep, goats and occasionally an | insignificant amount of poultry for the mar ! kets; and practically do not know the satis- faction of one wholesome, hearty meal of l victuais in their whole lives. It is also an | 1ndisputable fact that three million people of ! Ireland are forced through merciless land 1 lordism, sustained by military power, to even live on less than the food decent man l would dole to beast. Of all the eggs, but ! ter, sheep, goats, beeves furnished the mar kets, these three million never know the
 taste. The labor required in such produc- 1 tion is sustained absolutely and wholly on ! potatoes which cannot be sold, salt, cabbage ] leaves, sups of milk at rare intervals stolen 1 from the pigs, black bread and 'istir-sbout"
 from the meal of unmarketable oats, a& on ' C. | From what my own eyes have seen have no ! doubt that tenth of these three million | people never had their hunger fully appeased ! with even the vile pottage which they are
 compelled to live, that they may pay rent on | lands of which their forefathers were robbed,
 aud which their own labor, through oppres- sion and starvation, has given the very value on which they are rack-ren.ed to the limit of interminable human effort and endurance
 And sometimes wonder if Americans whose patience with the Irish question" rarely ex-
 tends beyond their possible use of it in
 American politics, or in the contemplation, from literary of tourists standpoint of ! that which may be unique, picturesque or ! humorous in Irish customs or character; or
 if Englishmen, who only see Ireland from
 behind evicting battering-ram, or, over ! their juicy chops, in the columns of the
 London Times; will ever reach Christian l manhood capable of comprehending the ap- palling deprivation and infinite patience of ! this people sufficiently to demand and com | mand atonement. For, stripped of all hori-
 ture and sophistry, diplomacy and duplicity,
 this is the whole "Irish question" Ameri- l can slavery in America was heaven of | perennial delight in comparison with this in-
 conceivable and awful nineteenth century 1 crime.
 A large number of the Connemara moun- taineers are cotters. These comprise a large class throughout Ireland who have no regu-
 lar holdings, but who, having suffered evic- ! tfon, secure any sort of a hut from some
 more fortunate tenant and subsist as best they may Many others are found to be liy- ing in their own former holdings as "care- ! takers" That is they have been legally evicted without defending their rights; and in consequence of their goodness in giving ! up all they possessed without struggle the
 bene6cent landlord permits them to remain
 in their own homes, absolutely abject and l subject to his will, at the greatest possible | al al ', Tor them. But in most of the cabins of these l Highland peasants there are three things l very interesting to observe. Those are pic- | turesqueness of location; extraordinary clean Illness; and the universal retention of primi- tive utensils.
 Rounding the turn of some bridle-path, you will come upon one of these cabins,
 perched on the edge of jutting crag white l and clear as the breast of 8 chamois shone 1 against the black rock behind The hutter of clothing or the warm glow of the red pet ticoat gives an added touch of picturesque
 ness to the eeric scene. You will walk
 squarely into the door of others where they are dug out beneath shelving rocks, as if of , Cyelopean origin. Again on dainty island in miniature lake white walls will gleam
 through masses of clambering ivy. Often they are discovered built against the walls Of crumbEng ruins. The matching of some reaches so closely to the ground that the lit tie structure blends with the brown of lieh-
 ened rocks and trees. And one found in a
 glen of surpassing loveliness on tough h.
 agh's shores where most roomy habitation
 had been made within the hollow of gigan-
 tic tree which the wild mountain blasts had | uprooted. The cleanliness of these noun tain folk is unequaled elsewhere in Ireland, and, I almost feel sure, among the lowly o1 any country. Seeking reason for this un
 expected characteristic from a be-frilled ole dame whom I had watched whole houl
 scrubbing the rock-tiled floor of her little l cabin, on the heights above Glendalough
 and which could have been thoroughly ' cleansed in one-fourth the time expended, = | received the scornful retort:
 "Heughl Wastin' time it is: Arragh, ye f born, not buried. It's aitin' an drinkin ;; filth enough we are. widout payin' av rint fo t the dirt yer neighbors leave vel"
 y But I fancy there may be traced all ethno b logical better reason in the unconscious nat = ural dignity, love of purity and natura @ cleanliness which grow into life and habi l, among those whose music is ever of pure an e murmurous waters; who breathe the rare al J. of these noble heights; and who, among tn
 swirls and fappings of the clouds them
 selves, come to instinctively resent the de ,f Elements which accompany lifes activities |
 less noble if more fruitful regions. In near l. ly every cabin or hut utensils of the rudes
 and most ancient pattern are found. Ston ,f seats are sunk into the walls at either side
 the basket shaped chimney. Little holes c
 
 /" chimney itself to hold the precious tobacco le pipe and 'should the sowl" in the cup o -e glass of hot poteen. Pewter dishes,- wher d there are any at all, garnish the rude cup 'e board. Massive, three legged stools, or tn at rawhide covered oaken boxes, and the plan s or rock slab table are the finest furnitur es found. A primitive gridiron for broiling tn 3, "poached" game can be produced on occa t; sion. Flat stones serve for baking; thoug to most ancient ''bannock" irons, and pots an 2, cranes of century old pattern are produce pr by the more fortunate. Here and there th in 'tmether," or ancient Irish wooden drinkin Il, cup will be seen. But there no tim
 pieces, new or old, among all the ConnemaI
 peasantry. The shadow of the chimney
 the thatch pole tells the hour when the mis-
 uplitt from the face of the sun. When the
 do not it matters little; for the hours, as V T. count them, drag through an unbroken, un ses ventfnl calm to these simple souls among u lo crags EDGAR l.. MARKHAM.