The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1916-06-09

water and pushed out. They'll say
nothing about it; they'll say nothing
about it," they told each other in
quacking undertones. We crossed the
stepping stones and came to the
schoolhouse. Inside we lighted lamps
and waited.
Have you seen a herd of mountain
ponies break down road? So they
rushed in, the island girls who came to
our friends lecture. No one else
came. They flung themselves about
the room until they were winded.
Then they became less disorderly. At
last, having trepanned them between
school desks, our friend began his lee
ture. When he was three-quarters
through they showed some disposition
to break away. But the power of the
human eye held them for space long
er. Then 1t became necessary to ap-
ply the voice threateningly: Now
Brighid," Now Oona," "Now Siav."
At last, by opening wide the door. he
signifed that the lecture was over.
Brighid, Oona, Siav, Cauth and the
others bolted out
Comfort Of Peat Fires.
The peat fires make it possible to
live in houses that are drenched with
constant rain On the outside walls
where the thatch drips down you see
the green of the damp. But inside.
with the pile of burning peat on the
hearth, everything is dry and warm.
Naturally, the people do not keep their
good friends the horse or the ccw
from the kindly warmth. The family
sits about the fire, and at the end Of
the room the horse stands as quiet
and as we1l-behaved as guest could
be- From infancy the children are in
innate with the animals; at three one
can drive the cow where it should go.
at five one rides on pony behind
hampers of sea weed The people
have fuller life than those who have
no friendliness with horses or cattle.
And yet we have heard H. G. Wells
speak of such people as parasites liv-
ing upon animals. We suppose 1t
would be impossible for the great pro
phet of machinery to understand that
people may live with animals. and be
better human beings for the expert
ence
In the house where my friend stays.
around the fire in the living room,
few young men are seated. They are
not dressed in the fannels of the Is
land, nor In the ready-mades one might
buy in town on the mainland, but in
ragged clothes that suggest Lanca-
shire. They are returned harvesters.
From April until October the young
men and women of the island work
for the farmers of England and East
Scotland, crossing over with the gangs
that go from the west of Ireland. For
the rest of the year the young men
stay on the island, putting in their
time working on fields on which the
plow cannot be put or fishing in boats
that do not go miles out to sea. The
main income of the island Is earned
abroad The young men and women
come back with from G12 to $40
in their pockets. This goes to pay
The rent, the shop debts, or buys tea
and the bag, of -four or meal. The
English that the young men can speak
is scanty and is eked out with good
many oaths. Abroad they have the
name of being good workers.
In our friends room the peat fire is
lighted also. He takes up his fiddle
and sits down on his bed until the
barefooted girl comes into the room
with an apron full of peat. The FIRE is
renewed, and it is time to go to bed.
A mattress is laid on the floor, and
our friend shows us how to make a
sailors bed, folding the blanket into a
sleeping bag, into which we insert
ourselves. Then we lie down at the
fire.