The New York herald., 1920-12-05
Irish Folk Stories
THE GOLDEN BARQUE. BY Seumas
O'Kelly. G P. Putnams Sons.

O'Kelly. @ p. Putnams Sons.
music which he called From an In
dian Lodge" The first few measures
may be interpreted as the calling into
council Of the old warriors of various
tribes to consider over the campfire
the disappearance of the Indian race.
Then the tom-toms sound slowly,
mournfully. One can almost hear the
sombre discussion of the ancient chiefs
as they talk in cultural tones of their
loss Of power and the futility of their
struggle to maintain the old order.
The council fire shoulders: the smoke
curls upward as the saddened chiefs
watch their supremacy passing to
another race. Suddenly the music
changes from acquiescence to the role
of futility to sharp protest. Tho young
braves jump to their feet-proclaim-
ing that the race shall not die. These
last chords are full of a strange beauty.
THE Weaver's Grave" the first
story in Seumas O'Kelly's collection
of stories of Ireland, "The Golden
Barque," though of an entirely diff
ferent spirit and land, closes III some
such emotional pitch and reminds one
curiously of the poignancy of the
MacDowell fragment of music. In both
mediums is caught the spirit-Youth
will be served!
Incidentally the O'Kelly stories are
full of an atmosphere of Ireland that
is not created by unintelligible dialect
nor by any overplaying of the unseen
world. "The Weaver's Grave" leaves
one puzzling over it's queer combina-
ton of the matter of fact and the
grotesque. So casual is the author in
his references to the dusty dust of
dead and gone friends Of the weaver
that the reader must needs be casual
also.
Mortimer Hehir, the weaver. had
died and they had come in search Of
his grave to Gloon ma Morav, the
Meadow of the Dead"-so the story
Of old men commences. Meehaul Lyn-
sky, the nailmaker, who sees in the
evening star only bright object that
reminds him Of his molten metal for
nails, and Cahir Bowes, the stone
breaker, who sees In the lichened
gravestones mot sermons but seams"
have come to the Meadow of the Dead
with the widow of Mortimer (his
fourth wife) and two grave diggers to
determine where the weaver shall lie.
To be buried in Gloon ma Morav is in
itself distinction that, unfortunately,
only a soul or two still above the
ground can appreciate.
q lxA
headstones for the obliterated traces
of the grave of the weaver's father
both old men had the air of those
who had been unexpectedly let loose.
For a long time they had lurked
somewhere In the shadows of life, the
world having no business for them,
and now suddenly they had been re-
membered and called forth to perform
an office which nobody else on earth
could perform"
All day they spent trying to locate
the grave, and finally their search is
rewarded. While the old men are
pickering apart about their difficulties,
like the chords in the MacDowell
music. the cry of impatient youth
sweeps through the mustiness. I'm
oNA thC opdA MIC VI TIE great yOuIlk
star" the widow land fourth wife)
and one of the grave diggers are left
alone together. "The widow knew
that they would be left together like
this for one minute, a minute which
would be as a fiash and as eternity"
The grave digger springs across the
open mouth of the weaver's grave and
his mouth is on her lips.
The last half of the book IS given
over to a series of vivid sketches OF
life on THE Golden Barque," a boat
that travels up and down the canal
of the great Bog of Allen. Tive Dere-
lict" Is as unpleasant scheming
miser as one Is apt to run across in
fiction or in fact in long time, for
tunately. Mary and Michael" though
very short, is, perhaps, the most ap-
pealing story In the book-young love
and hawthorn tree, a crescent moon
shining over the canal and an eager
lad who longs for the open sea-an ola
story but very deftly told.
E. Fl.