The Hawaiian star. [volume] (Honolulu [Oahu]) 1893-1912, 1907-03-16
IRISH HUN OR
For St. PatriCk's Day
Some Illustrations to Show That Thu Source Of The
WO Ids Brightest Wit Is In The Emerald Isle
BSr James Jeffrey EeoChe

che
political economy that no wise man
can afford to be witty. As Sydney
Smith said of contemporary. clergy.
man who was distinguished as much
for his duIlness as for his rapid &C.
clesiastical promotion, THAT fellow
rises by his gravity, while | sink by
my levity' Therefore It may be as
sumed that the Irish are more witty
than wise; which, after all, is lucky
If they had been wiser during the last
few centuries, they would have found
life intolerable, and so persisted of
the face of the earth; instead of which
they have cultivated the one virtue in
their Pandora's box, and so lived on
incidentally they have had some fun
the other fellow who made it sore
for them
The determination of the Irish race
altogether has been prophesied so Of
ten, by expert authorities concerned
il the case, that its failure can be
explained only as in the case of the
man in Limerick whose friend went
to the undertaken to order a coffin
for him. He mentioned the name of
the candidate. Pat Connell
Dear mel" exclaimed the under
taker. you don't tell me poor Pat is
dead?"
NO; he Is not dead-yet; but he
will die tonight; for the doctor says
he can't live till morning; and he
knows what he gave him"
There is a certain cynical side to
Irish humor OF such Swift was the
master in literature, and Parnelrs
faithful lieutenant Joseph Biggar,
the greatest eXemplar in politics lie
Fanu furnishes another example, in
the man who discoursed as follows
to his son:
Lies Three Periods.
You see, my boy, a mans life ma
turally divides it self into three dis
tinct periods. The first is that in
which he is planning and conthriving
all sorts of villainy and rascality-
that is the period of youth and in
nocence. The second is that in which
he is putting into practice the vii
lainy and rascality he conthrived be
fore-that is the prime of life, or the
flower of manhood. The third and
last period is that in which he is re
GREETING his misdeeds and promising
to do betther some day-that is the
period of dotage."
NOe2dy VINO ever saw can have for
gotten the picture in Punch by the
delightful Irish artist, Charles Keene
representing a couple of tenants sit
ting concealed behind a rock one with
a pistol. the other with a blunder-
buss. 1t is late in the evening. The
faces of both are clouded a little with
anxiety. They are waiting for their
landlord, and he has not come. At
last, with a sigh of disappointment,
one of them says, "Arrah, Tim, | hope
nothing has happened to the poor ould
gintleman!' That picture epitomiZes
a certain phase of Irish history, in its
ludicrously misplaced sentiment The
same or a kindred sentiment brought
poverty, exile, and death itself to
thousands of Irish Jacobtes, who risk
ed and lost all in support of a worth
less English King, a Stuart, in whose
family lexicon the word gratitude was
unknown.
Another good illustration OF the
landlord question, as it used to be, be-
fore the close season for that game
was established, is the lay sermon,
or discourse, on the evils Of intoXica'
ton. in which the orator eloquently
eXclaims
Look at the foolishness it leads a
man into! He works hard, month
after month, to raise a little crop, or
TO Craze COW: and when fair day
comes round he gathers his little
proiuce together. and takes it into the
market town, and sells it for the best
price he can get. Then, what does
he do? Does he go home, like a da-
cent, sensible man, and put the mo-
nev by in a stocking, for the rainy
day? He does not He letters round
the fair. and meets with a lot of
friends. and goes to drinking with
them. They feels rich, and spends
his money IKE Il lOIu' lh'N an ANN'
the same; they all do the same; and
they have what they call good time.
BY and by the man is laughing
dhrunk. Later on he is crying drunk
Afther awhile he is crazy dhrunk;
and all the way home, with full
head and an empty pocket, he is think
ing, not of his follies, but of his
wrongs. There is blood in his brain
and murdher in his heart; and when
he gets home, he takes down his
gun, and goes out and lays behind a
hedge for his landlord, and-misses
HIM"
The sudden surprising irony in the
climax of these stories is peculiarly
Irish. The same quality marks the
retort of the street Arab and the gal
lery god, as much as it does th'
speech of the cultured orator. No oth
err part OF Olympus is so distinguish
ed in that respect as the gallery OF al
Irish theater There the gods are
always ready to interpret literally the