Kentucky Irish American. (Louisville, Ky.) 1898-1968, 1915-12-18
IRELAND OF TODAY.
Irish PeopleTh Words
Hospitality andW Welcome in Historic Little Isle


I handy any time, and right now II
take we to the soldiers buffet,
When i came into the station
was told that a trainful of soldiers
had pulled out half an hour earlier
J (before the boat arrived); so my
| first entrance into Ireland looked
decidedly peaceful after the strenu-
Gus stations of other countries. The
station master led me to a buffet
where sandwiches and coffee are pro-
vided for soldiers by one of the
women's war societies, and there he
bowed profoundly to the ladies serv-
ing. eve have here visitor from
the States" he declared grandly, as
If I were a delegation, land a bit of
breakfast is what she needs as much
as any soldier of the lot"
l had difficulty in restraining them
after that. But l did not realize
the full perils of Irish hospitality
until / tried to swing on to a
jaunting car to make my tour of
Dublin at sunrise. Once l had
driven in a Quebec caleche, and
when by some miracle l emerged in
tact, l vowed it was "never again"
for native vehicles whose manage
ment is inherited, not acquired. But
the art of a jaunting car is neither
inherited nor acquired. 1t is thrust
upon you!
"But how will I get up?" 1 called
to my driver, perched-forgive tt
so jauntily upon his high seat.
"Juump!" he said laconically.
"Jist juump!"
I jumped and I jumped until
there wasn't any jump left in me.
Still could not get my foot on the
high step, and my man-apparently
could not leave his reins free to
help me. Then suddenly 1 heard a
grand rush and, with "The saints
bless ye," I was swung on to my
seat perilous, in which I could just
, turn far enough to see my friend the
station master, bowling himself off.
IT was the only effective anti
climax to a farewell I have ever wit
messed.
l braced myself against the seat.
which runs parallel to the horse and
which has no arms to clutch, and
then, commencing my soul, began
my last wishes. But you have small
time in which to wish on a jaunting
car, that delirious delight inspired
by devils and fairies. First you
sway, then you jerk and then you
jiggle. Next you thump, then you
bump and then you giggle. Then,
Just as you are thrown into the very
vortex of despair, you do get the
rhythm, and there you are, peaceful
as a pan of milk, with just a gentle,
creaking motion to churn your
thoughts about the landscape, of
which you may become a part at any
moment.
Now 1 know now why my driver
said: $50 long as l can drive a
jauntin' car 1 will never lave Ire
land. But when I can't longer drive
jauntin' car won't stay and watch
another man drive one"
AS we spun around Dublin that
wonderful top of the morning, with
the rosy fingers of the sunrise un-
locking the gray streets with their
old historic buildings, / felt 1 had
attained the height of all romance.
Never city looked so fair, never
courtier was so courteous as my
driver, and certainly no chariot ever
was so dashing as my jaunting car.
Round and round we spun, over
half or Dublin's twelve bridges, up
to st. Patrick's Cathedral, Trinity
College, Nelson Monument and the
statues of Grattan, Burke, O'Connell
and Goldsmith, who, l soon learned
from my trip were only a few of
Irelands great. My man told me
that a jaunting car makes one either
fool or a philosopher. On that
drive l became an Irish stole, and
when l nearly tumbled off my seat
| nearly tumbled on again.
That soft Irish noon / sat on an
old stone bench and summed myself,
little beggar in the mellow land
of romance. Across the square the
Irish boys of Kitchener's new army
we're drilling by the crossed flags of
Erin's green and the Union Jack.
Softly, almost tenderly, they sang
the old songs we had sung so often
in the parish-hall concerts or school
celebrations at home. 1.-THE Young
May Moon" they sang-that historic
song of the Connaughts, 1.-THE Min
etrel Boy" and Believe Me. If All
Those Eendearing Young Charms"
Then the band burst into a grand
flare of "Tipperary," the song that
will make all the world bless Ire
land, because it has taught so many
to dance gayly and some to die
Sravely.
Think of it-hearing "Tipperary"
played in Ireland! No wonder sat
up straight and thrilled and thrilled
surrenly remembered the first time
heard it played-at a college dance
and how the beat of II got into our
feet. How many times I have heard
1t sung since then--at home dances,
in music halls where the sparkling
colleens tripped its measure in
rcintillating shamrock gowns, at the
farewell parties of my military
friends abroad, and on the first gay
march out with the new regiment,
when the ceaseless drumbeats held
all the glamour and excitement of
military life and the whole world
seemed to march to the tap of Zip
perary."
Once l heard the merry French
piou-piou sing "C'est bien loin a Tin