The record-union., 1893-05-06
Especial Correspondence of the RECORD
UNION. Copyright 1881

UNION. Copyright. 1881
LONDON, April "a, 1898.
For the purpose of illustration there is
as little difference between the Irish fair
and the Irish market-day as there could
be found between ga rale drop of the
right sort" and "a drop of the rale right
Sort" which from time immemorial has
been inseparable from the proper con-
duct of either. The actual difference is
this: The Irish fair, whether held at the
little village in Donegal or Kerry, or at
tended by thousands, at as Ballinasloe,
Athlone, Cork, or Belfast, or Dublin,
is an affair for the display and
sale of animals only-horses, cattle,
asses, pigs, sheep, goats and occa-
Eionally poultry. Perhaps eighty Irish
towns and cities hold from one to four
fairs each year. Some are for the sale of
one class of animals only; of hogs, as at
Limerick or Athlone; of cattle, as at Bal
linasloe; of horses, as at probably the
greatest annual horse fair in the world.
that of Dublin, or as at Cushendun, for
the exclusive sale of the noted Cushendal
ponies bred on the heaJhery mountains of
Antrim, overlooking the weird and
Irish 1airs all animals bred in Ireland are
exposed for sale; at many others farm
products are to be found; while the great
butter fairs of Cork would almost give
one the notion that half the worlds but
ter is made in the sunny wales of Ire
lands South.
The market-day, on the other hand, is
a universal and interminable affair.
Hardly day passed in my nearly a
years wandering in Ireland when | did
not come upon some town or village
where the fair or the market was in full
progress. The area of Ireland is %, l25
square miles less than that of the State of
Illinois; yet Ireland boasts of 266 market
towns where market-days are held from
one to three times every week in the
year. All this is picturesque and inter
esting to the traveller; but my observation
leads me to believe that there is vastly
TOO much market, of the sort, and vastly
too little to market, of any sort, in Ire
land. The shopkeepers, petty traders
and "shebeen" men like it well enough,
for it brings The people together for trim
ming at both ends of the yard-stick; but
the tenant system behind it naturally
renders this very custom necessity to
the peasantry.
The tenant-farmer, particularly one
with tiny holding, must have, because
his condition is never else than precari-
Gus, handy means of ready money.
The market harpies discern with un-
erring scent all who are pressed for rent
or interest money, and they instantly
combine against his need and dependency
with matchless cunning and blarney.
Thus those most needing fair return for
the pitiable trihes they are forced to sell
are invariably plUcked at both ends of
their need-by the constant necessity of
providing rent money for the landlord,
and at the small market towns by the
4, 81
gipsies learn all the closet-ghosts of half
a county before they begin operations,
knowing that this one or that one from
this place or that dare not return home
without money, cOntriVe TO send him
back ''o'er an easy road for the lightness
that's in his pocket"
still another reason makes the Irish
market-day popular, though disastrous
to the acquisition of means among the
masses OF the people, if better opportun-
ity for securing comfort and competency
were possible The stranger to Ireland
can hardly conceive of the barrenneSs OF
diversion or incident in the lives of the
Irish peasantry. Education and books
there are not, save IN favored regions.
Something must occupy the human mind
aside from the scourglngs of everyday
toll. The market-day, in its exchange of
countryside greetings, information, for
givable gossipings, simple excitements
ana E6HoIdl Win prllnl-
tive folk stands entirely in the stead OF
the weekly paper of our own remoter
country districts. Indeed it is far more.
The telegraph and the railway pene-
trate nearly every county OF England and
America. In more than one-half of Ire
land there are country folk who have
never seen a railway car. The market
village is still the ultimate of their hori-
zon. The little holding on the mountain
side or i'll the valley, the little chapel
where they gather for Sunday mass, the
little village where market-day brings
them all together, the rustic dance or
wedding with their rude and boisterous
convivialities, the wake which most
powerful priest or prelate cannot prevent
by direct sacerdotal thunderings, and
finally the little graveyard where all
must eventually come, provide the far
thest metes and bounds OF their hum BILE
lives.
One may wish it different, but it is idle
10 discuss IL all save on the exact lines OF
their uneventful lives; and because the
warm Irish heart occasionally yearns for
something more "heartsome'' than il
knows in its scanty cabin surroundings.
1 do not want the regard of that better
conditioned man who would deny every
soul, enVironed as these every hour of
diversion and lightsomeness that can be
got from either fair, wedding or wake.
even if the poor souls return to their
dreary homes "a tritie hearty and soft''
for the days or nights ''divarsion.'
Whatever tribe the tenant-family NAV
have for disposal on market or fair day.
the entire family accompanies it. The
old mountainous OF cart is got out and
sparingly creased the night before; the
ragged donkey or lily kept horse is
given an extra portion of food and addi-
tional combing and scraping that his old
bones may gain new luster; and long be-
fore daybreak, from mountain boreen
and mist-hidden valley chattering groups
begin moving towards the village.
The chllder DEAR are slowed away
alongside the pigs, ducks, chickens or
vegetables, for the common excitement
has kept them awake all night, and now
over the stoniest OF Irish roads they are
''slapin' rings around their swate
selves; the youths may be trudging
hopefully alongside, but the ''ould
woman and ''ould MANI are ever found
lovingly bumped together upon the only
seat the cart affords, often agreeably ex-
changing puts from the same comfort
able pipe.
But step with me here beside the wav
near the town, and see the motley crew
constantly augmented in number from
every by-way, lane and intersecting road.
What queer, kindly lot they are Here
are 'the byes." edging along in concen-
tric groups, settling questions of neigbor-
hood moment IN tremendous but friendly
harangue and dispute. Every manner OF
cart drawn by every manner of animal.
but chiefly by rebellious donkeys, and ali
piled with every manner OF Irish produce
and humans, clatter and rattle through
the misty morning-carts with sheep
bleating piteously, with geese eraning
their necks in viciously- missed in
terroeation: with goats and kids lament
ing in pathetic altos and trebles; with
pigs springing on all-fours from side to