The Washington herald., 1916-05-29
Through a Woman's Eyes
s WI-IRELAND-AND THE WAR
By MAY CHRISTIE.
Copyright the Mcclure Newspaper syndicate)

OF ireland There was q green flag,
too. which futtered In the soft spring
breeze, and behind It and the pipers
marched a company of lads So young.
those boys. but IN the keen. square
faces rhons the old lighting spirit of
their ancestors. For they were setting
on to I'LL the sadly thinned ranks of
brothers fallen In the field.
Beside them marched . great COM
panye of friends. And some were dus-
ty and travel stained. for they had
come al the way from rural towns
Here was a pretty colleen with a shawl
about her head, her slender feet in
Irish clogs, and smile on lips that
often trembled uncontrollably. Here
was an old, old woman, hnplng and foot
sore, but with spirit so strong that It
seemed to watt her frail figure ever
onward. For she was marching shoul-
der TO shoulder beside her boy. "Shure
it's dyin' on US the ovid woman1l be"
cried one of the crowd. Glory be, it's
another twinty miles I'll be sfther
valkin'. and the divil himself can't
stop met cried the little Irishwoman
tauntily.
Old soldiers lirnped beside that regt-
ment. and saw tears IN the eyes Of
one OF than IT'S hard to see the
brave lads go OF. and me so useless
Win LnA5 ONAus OONJ "a
rnIne"' he was saying. "'Tis the grand
est thing OF all to be a soldier-and
shurs I'm euvious of thin boys!"
The spirit OF old Ireland herself was
In his words, and in that queer motley
crowd about the regiment. II was
IN the pipers' music, too-the poetry
and the lighting vslor and the faith in
liberty. And humor. did you say? Oh,
yes. There's always humor in an Irish
gated I've seen it just the same in
the slums OF New York as in the hills
OF Waterford or the Strand Of Dublin.
And yesterday was no exception
This time IL was a soldier who had
brought his pig with him-or, more
correctly. twas the faithful pig that
had followed him! She had waddled
peacefully over hill and dale for many
a mile, always at his heels, and now
that he had met his regiment she
would not return. Lave her alone, ye
spalpeens," said the soldier. IT'S
hne figure Of a girl she is. and, glory
be, I'm proud to have her see me ON"
Such cheering as the soldiers march
ed through the Dublin streets. the
green worn proudly on their shoulders!
For the Irish as a race are intensely
emotional, and seldom seek to suppress
their tnmost feelings. And when the
parting Of the ways was reached at
last, the air was filled with the low.
sad wailipg of the pipes, and tears and
laughter mingled with each other.
Today I have a very tender feeling g
IN my heart for Ireland For the past
week spent in travel through the En-
glimpse into the dauntless spirit of
her. Freedom justice, pity-these she
has followed for centuries. often to
her bitter loss, but never to the crush
ing Of her soul Walk, as you please.
through the streets OF Dublin, or the
moorland roads Of the rural districts,
and you will learn lessons that are un-
rorsettabie-
Yes, there is poverty, plenty Of tt
But Snerss something In those ram
shackls, tunbledown cabins that mon
ey cannot buy and that many a multi
millionaire might envy. Thers's love.
There's a passionate devotion too, to
their country that is just the very soul
Of Ireland. There's a hospitality that
welcomes every stranger to their
hearth. and takes no payment for it.
There's a simple kfndltness that makes
up for any lack Of education and that
cannot be beaten the wide world over.
What though the rain comes dripping
through the roof and the pigs and
hens take shelter in the family
bed7 True cleanliness is next TO God
illness, but II the Godliness is there
and certainly it's there in Ireland
some lapses IN the other are OF small
account
In tiny village in County Cork I
spent two days. Such a queer little
place, the dilapldated cottages and
their ragged thatch wearing a strange
ly comical air! But before I left its
kindly doors It hurt me to think that
7 had even smiled at sight Of It! For
the old Irish peasants were leading
lives Of quiet sacrifice and self-denial.
They were living almost entirely on
potatoes-and working in the fields
from early morn till the last ray Of
light so that every penny could be
saved and sent to the gallant sons at
the firing line.
The saints preserve as, and did ye
think twas comforts at home we were
wAnting?" said an old. old woman who
had Welded her heavy spade all day.
''Shure every farthins that have
goes TO the sed boys in Flanders!
Ne only sol d rest his sowl.-was
killed at Mon. Twas an Irish Guards
man he was 'Twould please him to
know that it's working for his regi-
rnent his ovid mother is. Come in and
have a cup Of tay."
She led the way most Hospitality into
her tfnv cabin, in the center Of which
EiOwed the en1DeTs OF peat l4Lo- AhcA Z
was no chimney, out the smoke drifted
through a hole in the root Gathering
the tea things, the old woman scattered
roosting fowls to right and left. The
dIvil take you for mis- own, Biddy'' she
cried. addressing the family pig, who was
slurnbering in her enc easy chair. "He
limb Of Satan, get UP and give your
seat to the LADY,"
But the limb of Satan slurnbered peace
fully on. One of the fowls roasted on
the teapot. and, when it upset. inserted
a nervous foot inside. We had to drink
the tea afterwardi
A knock came to the door. and one
legged man hoped II. his Irish pipes
under his arm, and a stick in his other
hand "A bowld Siper. wounded last
year In action" said the old woman In
an explanatory aside.
And then the one-iegged piper started
With his tales. I'll play ye Dear Old
Ireland" said he. "'Tis a grand air.
and Il minds me of the day in Flanders
when climbed into 4 dirty hayloft and
found sone of our boys were billeted
there. The rats were peerin' frcm livery
corner. but. glory be, wan lad was play
in on his penny whistle. and It's mes
u1erized the rats were, startn' at him.
/" The oraytures are that bovld.' seq a
boy from County Donegal. tnat whin We
htst came in the rats sat up smilin' and
sang Dear Old Ireland" Bedad, ard
It's the truth I'm afther tellin'.'