The Harrison times. (Harrison, Boone Co., Ark) 1876-1938, 1900-08-04
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS.
or the EmefId ISle--The Eye is Dellght-
ed, but the Heart Made Sick.

do not blame the Irish for lovin
Ireland,
do not blame the Irish for lea,
ing ireland
From the FIRST glimpse | bad Of tn
Emerald Isle, early Wednesda
morning, when its beautiful noun
tains doomed up in the gray # thu
dawn, with an OCCASIONAL $ i cloul
clinginglondly al put theI heads
to this pod magk Rye..seel
:! : L. |! . :
speaking of the scenic panorama, o
course, tor God knows there is pov
ertv enough, and rags enough, anC
ignorance enough, and hopeless help
less, unspeakable slavery enough tC
make the soul sore and sick hope
| am not unduly sentimental:
hope | appreciate in it's fullest signi.
heation the great fundamental fact
that "the poor we have with us al
ways | hope | am not too reck
less in venturing so earnest an opin
ion upon SO short an investigation
but deplore, | abhor, protest
against the unhappy condition that
puts human beings with red blood
in their veins, like yours and mine
gentle reader, upon the same plane
with the beasts of the field.
From Queenstown to Cork. and
from Cork to Blarnev, and from
Barney, to Killarney, and from
Killarney To Dublin. the hills. and
slopes, and valleys of'thiS beautiful
Ireland are one vast mosaic of green
and brown, for the agricultural
system divides the tillable area into
many small plots, of irregular size
and variable shapes, all separated
from each other by stone fences and
green hedges, while the hard condi-
tions that confront the peasantrv
require the cultivation of every
availableinch of ground So ireland
is garden,-a lovely garden, -culti-
waited with the utmost care by a
race of serfs whose condition is in
nlIissfy srurs7e puu is.s.--- s~s,'rrrSu
than that of the meanest
blacks among us. I'had read of the
living i'll the same niser-
able, thatch-roofed cottage with his
pig and his COW, and now know it
to Be true. have seen the man, the
wife, the children, the pig. the COW,
the chickens, in the same cottage,
while in the broad fireplace, with
its turf fire, hung small pot in
which was cooking all there was OF
the family dinner. have met the
lad of the household, driving to the
nearest town his small donkey cart
laden with a handful of cabbaoes, or
a pyramid of turf blocks, and then
driving back again with a few pence
in the pocket of his ragged coat.
With no implement but a spade, and
no incentive but the necessity for
keeping breath in his body, the Irish
peasant cultivatesNhis crop of pota-
toes, digs his winter supply of turf,
year after year, and dies in poverty
bequeathing to his numerous pro-
geny a legacy ofhopeless toll. l can
not believe the stories of this peas
ants total incapacitv, stories that
hear right here, and out of the
mouths of lrishmen, for | know that
under happier conditions he has be.
quea thed qualities to his children
that have put hem in the front rank
Of the worlds greatest men. came
over here to spend few weeks a:
pleasantly as might, and with nc
intention or desire to send back such
a lugubrious tale of woe, but ever
since the ragged, blue-eyed Irish Lao
who met me the first moment aftei
my arrival at Queenstown with al
invitation to take a ride in his jaunt
ing-ear, came dangerously near "
ing to me in his ardor to wiring
few pence from me, have had m,
attention directed in many ways
to the poverty, and the consequen
depravity Of the poor of this coun
try, until came to be oppressed AM
depressed to the extent that the pa
thetic hopelessness OF it lay on m,
heart as a burden, ! know no
where the fault lies, it fault there be
and / would not impeach the integ
rity Of my race, which has AWAY
stood for the largest liberty OF whicl
the individual is capable, with safet,
to the common veal, --bnt the IN
happy condition Of these people az
peals to me in the strongest way.
think | could not have written thi