The record-union., 1893-05-20
special Correspondence OF the RECORD
UNION. Copyright, 1881

LONDON, May s, 1893.
1t may we'll be imagined that when
from 100 to 200 souls leave Ireland for for
| elgn shores every working-day in the
year, there are heart and hand wringings
innumerabie, and dolorous mists from
! the region of tears. Few families are for
tnnate enough to get away all together
II help has come from America or the
colonies; if the passage money has been
! saved in secret through years of depriva-
! ton by single person; if an Irish fam
lily has, after every manner of sacrifice,
| provided for one who is to go to blessed
! foreign lands that the remainder may,
one by one. eventually follow: however
the going of all these people may have
come about, in every instance there is a
struggle in tearing away from the things
to which the heart is rooted which we, of
better fortune and conditions, literally
know nothing.
so many of these scenes have l wit
messed that l have, perhaps, some little
conception or the real bravery of this act
OF llllterate, unframed men and women
pushing boldly across oceans into un-
tried, unknown walks and ways with a
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 called upon to exercise
throughout his entire life.
However lowly, poor and desperately
| good-for-naughtt the prospective emigrant
! may have all his life been regarded among
his fellows, the great and generous heart
| in those around him melIs into Surpass-
| ing interest and tenderness when ne
comes to leave his neighbOrhOod, and
those whom he has been never so little
| part Of through the bitter days that have
encompassed ALL For every departure
| reawakens the heart-aching memories
! OF other departures, and in every Irish
! nome L ever shared there is an empty
chair whose former occupant is some
where beyond the sea.
| IL 1t be family which is to go, 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 another has come to mourn at
the leaving and bid God-speed al the
going. If 1t be youth or lass, or young
man or woman, as it ottener is, for few
! but the very old and very young are left,
then, on the evening previous to the de-
/ parture every companion, friend or ac-
! qualntance 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 estab-
| llshed the custom of the Irish wake :"
| which many good people choose to per-
| sistently misunderstood and condemn.
At this gathering for rising the heart"
OF the enigrant the Irish PEASANTS char
acter is in a most tenderly interesting
state for study. Every one arrives III a
hushed, EN- mbarrassed mood, and every
one brings some little token OF affection
and regard. The poverty of these folk
alone prevents outlandish generosity.
One stealthily appears with yards of
seed-cake, many with thin blesfuI Of tea
some with gewgaws and trihes of lew
| elry, the coattall pockets OF another will
bulge with heartsome potatoes, house
wives arrive with great methers of milk
others with schowders, or oaten-cak es
crisp and toOthsome, still others with
schrahags of shilk, a hearty mixture of
potatoes, beans and butter, and some
with apronstul of peat, for the slender re-
sources of the family must never, under
these trying circumstances, be drained
And the lads and lasses who come with
pressed Irish flowers snd ferns, and sprigs
of hawthorn and punches 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 tri-
umph and secreted bottles OF poteen that
never got touch," that is, are guiltless
| of the eXciseman's desecrating seal. for
| ''grlef is ever droothy" surely. Then the
night Is passed in 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 sung, sometimes they
/ dance to the music of an old tramp fiddler
who has been impressed 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
| 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 for
| lornness as when lowering the dead into
| the grave, the rustic ceremony of CON
voying" is begun. The subject of all this
| attention becomes for the once if for only
| this once in a lifetime the hero or hero
| inc of the hour. The chests, or plethoric
| bags, or whatever constitutes the luggage
! OF the emigrant, is sent on ahead IN some
neighbours proffered cart, friendly riots
! for the honor of the mourntul privilege
| often occurring, or are slung over the
| backs of shaggy donkeys, score more
than necessary always being in readiness
| for this friendly mission.
If a whole family are to go the fareweIls
| to the wretched old hut which has housed
them is something pitiable beyond de-
scription. If 1t be but a single member
of the household the good-bys to the 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
/ tho nganlGtrOm of Hnlnfinn = ~
voy," or accompanying procession sets
forth, is beyond the power of man to re-
veal.
On many occasions during my wander
ings afoot in Ireland | have come uDon
these excited crowds as they were start
ing from the home; as they struggled
down mountain boreen; as they Jagged
| and walled along the great stone high
way, or as they neared some railway sta
ton whence the emigrant must depart to
! the seaport city, and making myself one
of the motley 'convoyers," have thus
tramped with them miles upon their sor-
rowful way.
Sometimes these grewSome professions
will come from point score of miles
away in the mountains or remote valley
districts, and though no one has ever
seemed to think these touching and char
acterlstic scenes worth a place in Irish
literature, they are common enough from
all points and on all ways from which
either Moville or Lough Foyle. in the
north OF Ireland, or Cork and Queens
town, may be reached, and, heaven
knows, pathetic enough to appeal to the
whole world through artists pencil, or
the most talented word-painters pen.
Away up in the Donegal Highlands, in
the country of Colleen Bawn," where
that pathetic and true tale threads and
thrills through Irish heads and hearts to-
day with the same wondrous power as