The record-union., 1894-03-17
WHERE FALLS THE irish Dew.
Copyright, 1894. All rights reserved.l
A MouNrAIN STILL.

a MOUNTAIN STILL.
Between the upper waters of the Shan
non and the Atlantic Ocean are desolate
bogs, reaches OF hideous, verdureless
rocks, lakes of silence and mystery, tarns
dark and gloomy and drear, mountains
around which eyer fit gray specters of
the mist, and here and there silent old
ruins, lordly modern castles almost as
lone and lifeless, and hut and cabin with
just enough of the old Irish race left in
them to intensity the desolation brooding
upon the countless deserted habitations
OF once happy peasantry.
This is CoRnaught, once kingdom
under the ancient Irish heptarchy, and,
since the visit Of Cromwell, universally
known as that portion of Ireland, 'geo-
graphically west of the law" The pictu-
rescue old city of Galway is its metropo-
lis, the outlying Arran Islands and Con-
namara are It's widest and most desolate
districts, and among the countless shore
girding islands and isets, aud in the
mountain regions OF the latter are the
houses of the fisher folk, the ke]p and
turf gatherers, the knitters, Weayers,
''nappers" and fuckers" of the famous
West of Ireland wOolens, and OF those
who deem it no sin to crack the pate OF
any mutherin' eXciseman, whose undue
vigilance in the search of gently SIM
merlng pOtheen still lures him too close
to mountain eeries where falls the Irish
dew.
High up there above ancient Toom
beola, upon a mighty cllf side overhang-
ing an almost soundless Tough, whose
waters were blue-black as FURNISHED
cd cr1T Of
early spring morning the unmistakable
notes Of Irish song.
1t was not a tune of even flow, but it
came in bits and breaks astif some stern
er thing than song let out the bars and
slaves in spite OF, rather than on account
OF, the weightier immediate impulse. 1t
was the voice of a woman. Of maiden,
too, pitched with daring for the
melodious voice that it was, and now and
then explosive with the Yigor of some
earnest conviction behind:
lie lasses and bucks lave off yer sly looks
While | sing of one Thady q Brady
gh-h-h-Eh-am- m-m- Ohio
Brady! An me toes peepin' DER at tn
soles o. me shoes th' bitter winter long,
an me hair aiten by rats, slapein' outside
an watchin' th' diviFs own gauger's, an
th' dear auld mother consumin' th' po-
reens am all, buyIn' masses fur th' dear
father that fell out tn curragh beside
Arran Isle wild all that jewel o. brew,
may th' saints light his path in glory th'
dayi-
Who courted Miss Reilly SO snug an so slyly-
am its so snug an so slyly Pm thramp-
in t. Roundstone am Galway wild th
first shots an singlin's O potheen, agin
tn law, am sittin' among th' tishwives
an Claddagh shammers th' whole day
fur tn matter o. thruppence th' journey,
widout food passin' my lips, like goat
aitin' trees an air
Determined to make her his lady,
just before he'd begin to commit that great
sin
an Dan Madigan, th' heartsome lad he
Isl worritin' me life in and out agin wild
his love-makin', but he's brave one,
thin, an his warnin'S o. tn gaugers sayz-
i'm th' sthiu an layin' tn dear auld
mothers bones in Galway Jail, sure it's a
warmer bed amy day than these wet
rocks, until me hearts broke wild trouble
entirely
Which the clargy they call 1natrimony-
th' divil take Ireland an thin that's
holdin' fur it, when a daycent girl finds
no honest labor but marryin' T. kape soul
an body together
His furniture all he would tell at one call,
That he'd give TO his own darlin' honey
an so would Dan Madigan, if l could be-
lave his swate blarney! Oh, it's great
lady he'd make o. me in his Elegant inn,
which he lays oath he's got alone fur tn
love o. Ellie Dreen-that's me, or what's
left o. me, wid th' beggarly life Pm lead
IN wild tk' nappin' an tuckin' an sthilI
th' auld mother says she an Nora an
Maureen III nivir be lavin'-Howly
mother o. Mosesi-what's tnat?"
A rock as big as Ellie Dreen's pretty
head had come crashing through the
cabin roof and fallen upon ths huge stone
slab where she had been vigorously beat
ing or ''tucking' the flannel of Gonna
mara, while singing her song about Thady
O'Brady and innocently relieving her
troubled heart.
After her first moment of surprise the
girl simply gave the fallen rock quiet
glance or two, grasped an old horse shoe
that lay upon the tucking table, and after
giving a Iew sharp strokes to the rock
beneath her feet which sent back hol-
low, ringing sounds, glIded out of the
hut to speed swiftly up the mountain side
above.
1t was the Oldest Irish cabin that man
ever entered. The little structure was
built against an almost precipitous rock
+. OF the upper mountain nights, the roof
of shell-hke, shingIy rock, being laid
above rafters of larch tree trunks, rum
ming from holes chiseled in the ledge, to
the single side wall OF rudely piled stones.
The light entered at doors in the ends and
from tiny side windows. a fireplace was
built against the ledge, hole IN the roof
above served as chimney, and beyond
the chimney, against dark corner, were
few hunks where the hardy women
slept, fearless of all harm save that from
proving gaugers' eyes.
a narrow boreen, or mountain path, in
front Of the cabin wound along project
ing shelving OF the rock, which rose
straight and gray as giant, centuries-old
wall hundreds Of feet above shadowy
Tough below. Across this path, which
became almost roadway further down
the mountain side, directly in front of
the hut, little rivulet ran singing for a
moment and then fell in tiny, feathery
veil OF spray over The jagged edge of the
precipice. Curiously, too. it trickled
from the crag above, within the cabin
itself and found its way across the stone
floor and beneath the side wall along
slnuous little runlet cut for it out of the
solid rock.
. To even practiced eyes the curious
place was only Connamara "tuckmllP'
where the wondrous flannel of the region
is shrunk, thickened or tucked by
nounding. while wet, with huge wooden
hammers or mallets, in the hands of
brawny Irish lasses and women. But it
was more than this. for suddenly from
beneath where Ellie had stood a thin slab