The gold leaf. [volume] (Henderson, N.C.) 1881-1911, 1890-12-25
A CHRISTMAS EVE IN IRELAND.

Christmas eve in the mountains Oe
Ballycolman, in the County Cork, Ire
land. A blazing turf fire on the hearth
stone. In the chimney corner sat Daniel
Donovan, 70 years old, who could talk
nothing but Gaelic He was twisting a
little wooden wheel which connected by
passage under the hearthstOne with
the middle of the fire, which f1ickered
and fared rs the current of air swept
through Next to the old man sat
Rddy. aged 20, with her hair brushed
smoothly back from her forehead and
tied III IA Roman knot ut the back of her
head Close to Biddy sat Mary, who had
never seen a black man or a Chinaman.
Sandwiched between Mrs. Donovan
and Mary sat the American visitor The
old woman was smoking and grooming,
and little grandchild with cheeks like
ripe peaches stood with her golden head
resting on her grandmother's knee
The freight danced and cleaned over
| the little group rs the December wind
came down the wide mouthed chimney.
The scene was so suggestive of peace
hltl TcSt IlldJ lOT Ill Teen IllnuUtS no one
spoke. Then Mrs. Donovan said:
And mebbe the Yankee gintleman II
sing us sOng?"
He would indeed have been an I'M
grateful fellow who should refuse such
n request under circumstances at once
80 homely and so hospitable And in
that grateful atmosphere he felt some of
the old time sweetness come into his
voice as he sang of the harp that once
the soul of music shed in Tara's halls,
and told Ill song the story of how two
eyes of Irish blue looked up at Pat NAL
10y And us he sang Il look of rapt Won
der and admiration came into the face of
his homely listeners. He forgot that his
audience was few Irish peasants, and
standing upright he claSped the back of
his chair and poured out into the lowly
matched cottage that wonderful aria by
Moligue, Pour Out Thy Heart Before
the Lord" He had sung it before in a
massive cathedr..l accompanied by a
great organ, AMI had heard the tones Of
his voice go ringing down the echoing
nave, but never had he felt the sweet
ness and beauty of it as on that Christ
mas eve in the lowiy little cabin in the
mountains. And when he had finished
the aria and resumed his seat. Mrs. Dono-
van suggested:
-'Mebbe the gintleman will sing us a
song about home!'
Almost before he knew it the visitor
had begun. DO They Miss Me ut Homer"
lie reached the third line, To know at
ihs moment some loved one were say
ing. i wish he were here" when he be-
gan to choke The memory of his own
home Ill far off America came to him.
WHAT was the baby doing? Did the
children have the usual Christmas
tree! Was everybody in good health?
Was any one wishing for the absent
one: Al. before the lines were out of
his moath he went all to pieces like a
sh.p Oh the roc9ss He was strong
man who prided himself on his cynicism
and lnateriahsIn. He could not remem-
Ter the time when his eyes had been wet
before But sitting there upon a chair
with seat made of straw rope. and sur
~ tA~o f@iiu HSo-
PIE as the sun ever shone upon, he placed
bis hands over his face, and the tears
ran through his fingers and fell upon the
hearthstone An awestruck silence fell
Upon the little group, broken by the
moaning of the wind in the chimney.
Mrs. Donovan, her face shining with
sympathy, gently tapped the stranger
On the shoulder and whispered in his
ear:
If We were to take a cup o the Congo
t'ea ye'd feel betther, sir
be took the Congo" and felt better.
Then he went outside, and looking up at
NE stars wondered why it was necessary
Tor him to go 1900 miles away from
home in order to make fool of himself.
ERNEST JARROLD.