The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-09-14
IRELAND THROUGH AMERICAN EYES,

sigh sublimely over field of cow
slips or bluebells. They are very re-
iigious, almost too much so to be
practical, and are extraordinarily NOR
al in their domestic life. Vulgarity
is unknown. Even the poorest of the
peasants have implanted in them
rare appreciation of melody and har-
mony. 1t is not surprising that all Ire
land seems to burst into song and
poesy with the changing seasons.
A quite remarkable feature of Irish
life is that, despite their quick tenn
pers, the wild things of the field and
the air seem to have no fear of the
human folk. Peacocks, swans, wild
ducks and all manner of domesticated
animals are without fright, and little
children play among them uncon-
cerned. / even saw an enormous os-
trich teasing some children for a
piece Of bread, and they seemed to
understand one another with an un-
common intelligence. | have seen
poor children with a small crust of
bread, and | know they were very
hungry, share their meager meal
with a wild duck on the pond of Steph-
ems Green. Peacocks play with chill
dren like kittens-and until you have
seen the color of q peacock in Ireland
you have not seen all the gorgeous
indigo tints that were put down in
this world on the day of creation.
Sheer human limitations stop me
from telling you so many things |
would like to, because it seems such
an impoverished and commonplace ef-
fort. You must see it. 1t can't be
told. The greatest intellect, as we'll
as my humble one, stands dumb be-
fore it all. 1t is almost appalling. One
is appalled,, in fact, and then when
one comes to one feebly realizes that
attempting a description of Ireland
is as if a finite thing tried to measure
infnitude. 1t can't be done.
Verdant Nature.
For one thing, you know how care
fully you nourish and fondle fuch-
STA plant back home. You put it in
a small pot and place it in the parlor
window and warn the children not to
go near it or touch it. Well, in Ire
land the fuchsia grows in great hedge
rows, like laurel and thorn, up into
big trees unless kept down, and they
trim it like you would an ordinary
hedge fence. | have seen miles of
these fuchsia hedge rows in bloom,
ir1o cin hot
they are like by remembering the
pepper trees Of California Only the
pepper tree is a common tramp COM
pared to these magnificent, these eX-
traordinarily exquisite miles of dainty |
bell-shaped and crimson-hued blooms |
high as your head and stretching
gracefully over the ''raths" and meats |
and Towering hillsides as far as the |
eye can behold. But how foolish and
stupid in me to try to picture the
infinite! Only this. there is beauty
and softness of nature in heart sing
ing Ireland that is like the softness of
the sunrise over the Wicklow Hills |
when the rosy-fngered dawn creeps
SO silently and gorgeously from out
the ocean and Eliminates place that
is filled with all the bewildering splen-
dor of Natures most talented artists. |
1t is not surprising that the colleens
and the gray-haired grandmothers,
peering out from their modest and
rose-bowered stone huts, sigh prayer
fully and exclaim: "Ah, sure, this be
heaven itself!'
Well, my dears, have written hast |
lily to get this into the mail pouch be-
fore hiking away into hell-torn France. |
But hope you may gain fleeting, if |
imperfect impression of the original
Garden of the Gods of this sorrowful |
and anguished world
You may continue addressing your
letters to the London office, and they
will be forwarded. My love for all of
you, and continue to nourish the hope
that some day we may all be together
again, if not in ould Ireland, then back
in the dear old United States Good
luck to you ALL and you might occa-
sionally say little prayer for the lone.
some one of the flock.
Lovingly,