Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-02-03

8N
f~ furnishes an interest
~ ing study and scene
Outside of births, marriages, deaths, flu
nerals and evictions, it is the constantly re
curing great event of the Irish hamlet. l
brings and takes the mails. These are in
vested with refexive majesty of government
and secure a sort of universal respect in any
country. In Irish villages their portenr
and mystery command a ludicrous though
pathetic awe. Those sealed bags, and thoss
great locked hampers, are freighted with I'M
told possibilities. They bring messages o.
gladness or despair from those in far Amer
lea to whom the very life Of these waiting
here are forged and welded; and from whai
they nave brought. many a bursting hear
has been forever lightened or stilled. The
keen knowledge of these joys and agonie'
is a common heritage.
The pouches and packages of plethoric
mystery also contain cher Majesty's' this
that and the other, which not ~infrequently
affect the relations of human beings in
whole communities. This bitter fact is
also an universal consciousness. And those
people the "long-car's" m%omentary delay
furnishes a glimpse of, with what ultimate
lands they are going to, or came from, are q
constant source of simple conjecture and
wonder. For the very next Irish county is
to these poor souls an illimitabiy distant
country; England is surely half way around
the earth; while America-to which the
"steerage" passage by sea is a measureless,
though welcomed, purgatory of penitential
preparation-is as the one fair Alden be.
You'd the shining stars.
WAITING o THE MAIL.
From a half hour before the arrival OF
I the post-station, usually the inn. Along
side is the little postofice. It is locked
during nearly all the hours of the day save
this; but now it seethes with excited hurry
as the master and maid-for there are al
ways both, one perspiring with importance,
the other flaming with effort-worry over
the handful of letters to be dispatched. The
old, the halt, the lame and the blind come
first. These, with rigid, pallid face, that
sad and universal impress upon Ireland's
poor, pass in quiet tones the greetings they
have thus exchanged for the balf-century
past. They range themselves along the way
and wait; walt in a dumb sort of stupor that
makes ones heart ache to see.
1aCEOSS Xix WdJy uAOC 4uCCI Olu tudbCACO
gables, is all the picturesque paraphernalia
of the post station, stable and yard. In huge
iron frames, two or three century old lamps
hang above the yard, their dim, saffrony
light showing a dozen stablemen and emu
lative helpers grooming the shadowy-out-
lined relay. Up and down the street. at
long and zig-zag intervals, faint lights with
splintered glow reach into the evening
gloom. Here and there mysterious foot
falls, gradually increasing in numbers and
apparent urgency, are heard approaching
from side-street, alley, by-way and court.
Those who first came awaken somewhat from
their stupor. The harder, next younger
division of the village population
crowds around the old inn doors. Then
there are the same greetings, even from
rate in their every hours life, as if all had
met here on some momentous mission.
Then all relapse into dumb silence, only
broken here and there by the low minor
chords Of old 'women's voices, where faint
| shreds of light from the inn windows dis
close groups in which three or four ancient
cap frills tremble and dance in cosby prox-
unity. Soon a stir is created by the fussy
little landlord rushing from the fussy little
inn, and after hanging the great lamp
of the village in its antique receptacle, dis
appearing with a slam, as if to say: s'This
much for Her Most Gracious Majesty-and
| not for you cattle out there!' He has done
| this a thousand times before; but the dumb,
patient ones all turn, just as they too have
done a thousand times before, with a look
that plainly answers: Faith, an a mighty
deed it was, sor!"
THE BUGLE BLAST. &
D. l.a 49, A. Ill 49, IL.
inn and stableyard is filled with a strange
and picturesque assemblage. Far up the
winding road, a faint %rumbling is heard.
"Arrah, thim's her wheels a-singin'p'
"Faith, Tins the bye on time. thin!" "God
be praised for it's luck the day!'-ss though
the lives of all depended-and countless
other fervent expressions rise in
symphony. The post-horn's lively notes
ing welcome. Blast on blast pierces the
night and rouses the sleepy echoes along the
old walled way. Down the hollow, over the
hill, down the hollow again, and then with
thunderous clamor across the great arched
bridge, comes the wondrous Irish long-car;
and with it, come all the remaining villagers
on a frantic run, but shrouded in dust from
its spinning wheels.
With a rush, whoop and final terrific
blast, the Gngainly thing stops with, a
wrench and groan before the little. Its
"well" is piled high with hampers and lug
gage. The very outlines of its bumped,
hooded, shivering passengers bespeak petu-
liant impatience. A few growl and curse at
the untimelY detention. Ascore of stable
men, lads and lettering helpers grasp and
plunge for the reins, lines and traces of the
smoking horses, filling the air with kindly
beseechings that they become passive; as
though they were the most wild and impetu-
Gus of coursers, instead of the spiritless,
jaded cattle they are. Every soul that acts
or moves around the long-car or stables, in
stantly begins that aspirated, hoarse, half
gurgle and hiss, which universally in-Eng-
land and Ireland is the accompaniment to
even any imagined attention to, or service
about, the horse. With a rush the reeking
car horses are driven and pushed to the sta
bles. With another rush back comes a fresh
relay. The bold driver has disappeared to
''stretch the elbow O. his legs" and "shame
the night air wild a drop O. poteen." Here
and there the lights flame back the color of
a few ''red-coats" ~mingling with the crowd.
AS if by accident, a half dozen Of the tall
and shapelY constabulary have come very
close to the passengers. frequently one too
snugly bundled to permit of satisfactory OF.
fetal scrutiny, is quietly asked to alightand
re-arrange his rugs and wrappings.
THE BOZ DRIVER.
The village mail has been borne to the car
and safely bestowed. Another great pouch
aattened upon its trifing contents has been