St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1907-10-05

isn't this gay@' called the young
girls as we iiggled along in holiday
mood. Suddenly a silver bolt of jagged
lightning cleft the sky to the south
and almost simultaneously a peal
Of thunder that sounded as if it had
been born and bred on Connecticut
hills, so loud was it, told us that the
people living to the south of us were
going to get wet.
And then we came to a bend in the
road and turned south.
All, twill be nothin'," said our
driver in answer to a question.
We put on our craVenettes, hoisted
| what umbrellas we had and gave the
blankets an extra tucking in and after
that-the deluge!
en- followed by bolt from each horse.
A sort of echo as it were. The drivers
reined them in and ours started to
seek shelter under a tree.
AS | sometimes read the newspa-
pers when at home told our driver to
Keep III lue open.
The lightning now became more and
more frequent and was SO close that
we let go our hold on the brass rails.
preferring to pitch out rather than act
as conductor on a jaunting car-such
things as conductors being unknown
anyway.
It was terrifying and to add to my
discomfort l found I was sitting in a
pool of water, the rain having an Irish
insinuatingness about it that was ire.
sistible. And now, just to show us
what could be gotten up on short no
tice for American visitors, it began to
hail and the wind blew it in long
white, slanting Winter@ike lines across
the air and into our faces, and the
roads having become little brooks, the
horses had to be urged to the driv
ers utmost of threats and cajolery.
thought of that waiter who had
| told me it was always sunny in Ire.
land and I wished him out in the pelt-
ing storm.
I've not seen the like in twinty
yairs, sorr, said the driver.
To go back was to get the storm in
fuller fury, for the wind had shifted.
To go ahead was to arrive like drown
ed rats, but we were anxious for shell.
ter and still the driver said, Its not
far, and so we went on I have been
in many places in all sorts of wealth
ers, but it is years since I've been out
in such storm. The hail stones were
not as large as hens eggs, but they
were as large as French peas.
There was not dry stitch on us
and the red of the gay cushion went
through to my skin. My cravenette
treacherously refused to let the water
depart from me, but shed it on the
wrong side-whfch may be an Irish
bull, for all 1 know.
Here we are now, sorr,' said our
driver as he turned in at a beautiful
driveway. A winding drive of min.
ute or two and we arrived like wet
hens-all of us-at the house of these
people who had never heard of US I'm,
til that day.
But the warmth of the welcome
from our host and hostess who came
out to the door to greet us made us
not only glad we had come, but even
glad we were wet.
Had there been the least stiffness
we should have wished the storm far
enough (and indeed all Ireland did
wish it for it turned out to be the most
tremendous thunder and hail storm in
a score or more of years., but our new
found friends frankly laughed with us
at our funny appearance and we were
hurried off to various rooms to change
our clothes.
Our protestations of regret at put,
ting them to trouble were met with
protestations of delight at being able
to serve us, and as my host brought
me some union garments that had
been made for man of three times
my size and I wrapped them round
and round me until they were giddy,
l was glad | had not turned back to
spend a damp afternoon in a lonely
hotel.
The rest of the party Jared well in
getting clothes that became them, but
when | was fully dressed I looked like
Francis Wilson in Erminie. AS I turn.
ed up my sleeves and triple turned I'D
my trousers l knew l would be good
for laugh in any theater in Christen.
dom.
There was but one thing to do-gc
down and look unconscious of nv mis-.
fit appearance. It would never do tc
stay in my room through mistaken
sense of personal dignity.
So went down, and meeting host
and hostess and my compatriots. a
laugh went up that would have brok.
en- the ice in Pittsburg millionaire's
drawing room.
And then We We're taken to the tea
room and in few minutes I forgot
that was no longer the glass of fash.
ion and the mold Of form for | was
made to feel that was just a friend
who had dropped in Cor, perhaps, drip.
ped in would be better), and when a
couple of hours later We drove home
the soft Irish verdure, doubly
green after its rough but invigoratipg
bath, We all felt that Irish hospitality
was. no mere travellers tale. but n
thing that had intensity and not
little emotion in it.
Copyright, 1907, by w. c. Chapman.)