Kentucky Irish American. (Louisville, Ky.) 1898-1968, 1915-12-18

The following interesting account
by Catherine Van Dyke of her trav-
els through Ireland appears in the
current number of the Ladies Home
Journal and has been widely COM
mented upon, being a beautiful de-
scription of Ireland and her people
today:
As l stepped off the boat at Dub
lin, at 4 O'Clock of a mostly morn
ing, my heart sank as / handed over
my passport. 1t had been vised by
most of the Consuls of Europe. 1t
had passed muster in the Neither
lands, France, Germany and Eng
land, but / had been warned of a
rigid examination that would probe
my remotest motive for visiting Ire
land in war time. So 1 sighed deeply
as 1 looked at the genial crowd,
some still clasping the rosaries they
had told so loud as we crossed the
dangerous Irish Sea.
1 was a young girl alone with no
better defense for my visit than a
wish to see the "auld land" that is
motherland to every merry heart
in America. But now, cold, hungry
and dreadfully sleepy, grasped my
suitcase-my only baggage for three
months in warning Europe-and felt
my heart quake at the thought of a
long, tortuous examination. Then
heard a voice ring like a bell
through the fog: "Well, you're from
the States, are you, miss? Then
welcome to Ireland, and proud I am
to say it," and with that I looked
up into the kindest blue eyes that
ever shone under officers cap.
"She's from America, this little
lady!" He turned to the gold
braided officials beside him.. From
America" he repeated; and such a
smile lit up the group that, quaking
heart and chills and suitcase, sur
rendered on the spot-the most vol
untary prisoner Ireland had taken
since the war began.
"Ameriky, is it? She's from the
| States indadei" / heard my ship
mates whisper excitedly as they,
too, beamed at me; and one old body,
with a gray shawl over her head,
said: ITO think / sat there eatin'
me bread and not offerin' her bite
atall, atall; but I didn't drame she
was from Ameriky, with me three
b'ys there this day" She nodded
her apologies to me and then they
all smiled again-that sunny, wistful
smile which convinced me that if
laughter was discovered by Peter
Pan a smile was born under a sham
rock.
The customs officer handed back
my passport "It says you're just
five feet one" he added. ''Now
that is too small a lady to keep out
when you've got such big country
behind you, but mind"-his face
heightened sternly-"you tell them
over there in the States that they
don't come over often enough to
Ireland, and glad am this time to
put the shoe on the right foot"
1t proved a lucky shoe for me.
Everywhere went that magic word
"Ameriky" was an open-sesame to
all the good will could dispose of.
Good willard questions. Oh, those
questions! How they came from ev-
cry man, woman and child who ever
had a relative "gone out to the
States" I wish ] could give the roll
call as it pursued me around Ire
land. Didn't l know Annie Kelly
from New York; Michael O'Grady,
from Chicago; Dennis Malloy, "him-
self that left intendin' to be Prisi-
dint, but took a place in canning
factory betwane time" or "Mollie
O'Donnell, that hasn't written home
for a year and I'll be pullin' back
by the hair of her head IL she doesn't
say where she's at" or 'is it true
that Danny Mahan has passed be-
yont, and If so why weren't We told
about it?"
But my first adventure in Irish
hospitality came when in search of
hotel at half-past four in the
morning. l am now firmly convinced
that the owners of Irish trains.
boats and hotels are descendants of
some old tribal feudists which keeps
them from making any possible con-
junction in business. There was a
mere gap of five hours between my
ships landing and the first train
from Dublin to Cortland the sta
tion hotel was discreetly closed until
Z.
But this station master was full
of resources. He spied my American
flag in my coat lapel and promptly
took me under his wing. "'Tis all
right, miss" he assured me. 81
have sister in the States, so we've
come to the right one to look afther
you" Then suddenly he bent way
down and whispered tremendously
in my ear: "Tf you rally want to see
Dublin I don't advise ye goin' TO a
hotel" he added with the serious
conviction that came to know as
typically Irish. Now advise ye
to take a jauntin' car and drive
about. The mist is clearin' and ye
could see Dublin by sunrise. IT'S a
grand sight'-he stepped back and
regarded met see It every day
meself except when It rains, which
is often"
But I didn't want to tour the
hotel" / laughed; "I wanted to
sleep and eat In IT.
"And right We are. miss" replied
my undaunted friend. but We can't
be slapin' and seem Dublin at the
oncet. AS for atin'-that comes