Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

JOURNAL

CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE,' &c.

No. 214. NEW SERIES.

SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 5, 1848.

SOCIAL OUTLAWRY.

In almost every ancient and modern state assuming to be civilised, there has sprung up a class of persons deprived of the usual privileges of citizens, and in a sense outlaws. The commission of crimes, or other violations of the law, has of course been in all ages a common cause of expulsion from society; but history and experience too surely demonstrate that misfortune of birth, as in the flagrant case of the Pariah tribes of India, has been a greatly more prevalent source of this monstrous evil. The truth seems to be, that a disposition to do even-handed justice to the whole of its denizens irrespectively, is about the last concession made by any state-such being the force of inveterate prejudice and interest which requires to be overcome. Curiously enough, this dislike of justice is not exclusively or most frequently manifested by nations of a monarchical or aristocratic character. It happens in this, as in some other cases, that the aristocratic in name is perhaps the least aristocratic or exclusive in practice, and that the form of injury and injustice we speak of is most strongly maintained by people who themselves have suffered under a similar oppression. Let us select a few of the more flagrant instances of social outlawry.

Switzerland is reputed to be the freest country in Europe. This is an error, arising most likely from the common notion that the country is a confederacy of republics, which wrested its freedom from surrounding despotisms. It is one thing to throw off a foreign yoke, and another to establish internal freedom. Switzerland at the present day, with all its wonderful industry and spirit of liberality in matters of international trade, is, in point of fact, a cluster of little despotisms, the despots in each case being a majority of the population which oppresses the minority-oppression on the score of religion and of birth. Ignorance, and selfishness-which is only a manifestation of ignorance-are conjointly the cause of this discreditable state of affairs. Under the common name of Swiss, three great European races meet and nestle about the heart of the Alps-the French from the west, the German from the north and east, and the Italian from the south; and the want of communication, till of late years, has kept these races apart and ignorant of each other. Nowhere, also, is the distinction of religion more marked. Two-thirds of the Swiss are Protestant, and the remaining one-third Catholic; and the Protestant and Catholic cantons, as the recent civil war has shown, hate each other as the hostile clans in the Highlands hated each other two hundred years ago. Besides, though Switzerland, compared with most countries, is a land of mountains, the greater part of it is composed of plains amidst the stupendous Alps. Two hours' stiff climbing suffices to change from

PRICE 1d.

the neat-trimmed flower-garden and stuccoed cottage of the industrious artisan of Zurich, into the lofty hillcountry of Schweitz, where the mountaineer leads a half-vagabond existence, tending his numerous goats among storms and mist, while his children run ragged and barefooted along the road, begging from travellers. Between people so variously situated there can be little sympathy.

A consequence of this national disintegration has been, that the rights of citizenship possessed in one canton have always been good for nothing in another. The citizen of Geneva, who was driven to settle in the Valais, was allowed toleration; but neither he nor his posterity could, by any length of residence, become denizens of their adopted country. A Roman Catholic at Lucerne who turned Protestant, lost all his property, and was liable to banishment; a Protestant at Berne turning Roman Catholic, was punished in like manner. Several of the present cantons continued, up to the time of the French Revolution, to be vassals to the larger ones. Thus the canton of Berne was sovereign lord of the present cantons of Vaud, Uri, and Tessin, which it crushed with taxation, without admitting its subjects to any political rights whatever. Thus, in process of time, it came to pass that all over Switzerland there grew up a distinct body of men, the descendants of individuals who had lost their civil rights in their respective cantons, either in consequence of change of religion, or of misdemeanours for which they were sentenced to banishment, or of illegal marriages, or lastly, as foreigners settled in Switzerland. The stigma thus cast upon the fathers descended upon the children to the last generation. They formed a separate class called Heimathlosen-literally, the homelesspeople to whom the law allowed nothing-involuntary outlaws. They exist at the present moment in steadily - increasing numbers; and as injustice always reacts on itself, the parties so degraded form an organised body of mendicants, hucksters, pilferers, and often robbers, like the gipsies of other countries, but much more numerous, compact, and formidable to the society which has cast them out.

Some years ago, these Heimathlosen were become so troublesome, that their state was forced upon the attention of the Swiss diet, which instituted inquiries accordingly, the result of which is now before us. The report stated the Heimathlosen to amount to many thousands in number in all the central cantons, from the Lake of Geneva to the Grisons, beginning at the Hanenstein in canton Soleure on the west, and extending on the east beyond the Rhine into the Austrian principality of Lichtenstein. None of these thousands had any fixed trade, or were allowed by the law to possess a permanent house or lodging. When they ventured into the towns, they assumed, for the time, the characters of

thread-twisters, match-sellers, bird-catchers, and menders of pots and kettles. Whenever they might, they lived by choice in the woods and mountains, supporting themselves by all kinds of thievery. At night, they creep into caves, or sleep round a fire in the open air; and this through the depth of winter. Marriage is unknown among them; none of those examined could tell their own age, and very few knew who were their fathers and mothers. As soon as the children can walk, they are sent into the towns to beg and steal, and bring their plunder at night to the elder vagrants, who remain meantime encamped in the forests. They have still a voluntary government, and their leader at this time was a noted housebreaker named Krusikans, subsequently executed. Wherever and whenever discovered, they are liable to be imprisoned without cause assigned; and formerly, when the prisons were overcrowded, many were executed without even the formality of a trial. They are now, as soon as seized, escorted by troops to the boundaries of the canton, and thrust into the next, by which they are expelled in like manner, unless they can meantime escape. The report recommended various plans for absorbing this unwholesome population, which have been frequently since discussed; but nothing has been done, and the troubled state of the country renders any improvement now less likely

than ever.

Vaud was a few years ago the scene of some enormities on the score of religion, and while we now write, intelligence has reached England that the council of state of that canton, which is Presbyterian, has enacted that all religious meetings of parties, not in connexion with the authorised church, are illegal; public worship of all such bodies is accordingly put down by military force, and ministers are in danger of their lives. A more startling instance of the tyranny of a majority over a minority could scarcely be found in modern

times.

Let us proceed to another example. The West Indian Islands, during the last century, were troubled with a race of outlaws, whose existence is a curious corollary upon the working of the slave system. In all times and lands, one inevitable consequence of a legalised slavery is the constant tendency among the slaves to escape out of the pale of the society through which they are slaves, and thereby, as it frequently proves, to get beyond all laws whatsoever, the good as well as the bad. The timid suffer; and the bold, if they cannot throw off the yoke, fly from it as far as may be; and thus, by allowing freedom to none, the slave system generates a race of outlaws who subsist by war upon the body which has cast them out. It very rarely happens that a slaveholding country exists side by side with a free one, which may receive the refugce into its bosom, aud under the guardianship of its institutions. Slavery, besides, in a productive point of view, is only worth keeping up in a thin population where labour is dear, both from the want of competition and the ease of acquiring land. Among populations like these, the superior land only is tilled; the mountains, marshes, and forests subsist as nature made them, offering a ready refuge and an impregnable fortress in which the fugitives may collect and grow apart.

In the beginning of the eighteenth century, almost every West Indian island had its organised outlaws; hunters and robbers by turns, who, when game failed them, or prompted by revenge, stole into the cultivated flats, fired the canes, drove off the cattle, and often consummated their inroad with the massacre of the planter

and his family. So dreadful a scourge were they, that the early West India records treat of nothing else. In the smaller islands, where the cover was less, they were hunted down and exterminated like so many wild beasts: in the larger, they lasted longer. In all alike they bore the same title of Maroons, which some derive from a native word signifying wanderer,' and others from marrow,' the Spanish name for the wild hog, on which they principally lived.

There is a very full and curious account of the Jamaica Maroons in the works of Dallas and Bryan Edwards-the one a soldier, and the other a civilianwho look at their subject very differently, yet agree in most of their details. The year 1733 was the end of a lengthy, troublesome warfare, stained with much bloodshed on both sides, in which the damage done by the Maroons was roughly reckoned at L.240,000 sterling, besides a loss of from three to four thousand lives. For the next sixty years both parties lived at peace. A large tract was assigned to the Maroons, on which they hunted undisturbed, and where they built three small towns, or rather villages, the chief one called Trelawny Town. It would seem that a very few years of kindness, and attention to the introduction among them of humanising habits, would have sufficed to absorb them peacefully among the free black popula tion; but to take any trouble for a negro, never entered a planter's head in those days. The Maroons lived on hunting, as if in the middle of Africa-a kind of Pariahs, dreaded and neglected; and the planters lived on, heedless of the past and the coming peril, though Trelawny Town was only eighteen miles either way from the principal ports of Falmouth and Mondego Bay; and it needed but a three hours' march of the Maroons, as the event proved, to burn down half the sugar plantations in the island.

The slave emancipation act would have effectually dissolved this strange society, by destroying the causes which led to its existence; but it was destined to come insurrection broke out in St Domingo, and produced a to a more speedy and violent end. In 1794, the negro great effect among the blacks throughout the West Indies. In the following year the Maroons were in full revolt. The war which ensued lasted for a year and a half, and cost the island in direct expenditure more than half a million sterling; and all the plantstions were burned to ashes. Cultivation was at a stand, white population was drafted into the militia, and the the courts of justice were shut up, the whole male island at large became one entire garrison. We have no intention to go into the details of this miserable conflict. The Maroons were not six hundred in number; the regular infantry employed against them alone amounted to fifteen hundred, with eight thousand militia; but the nature of the country and warfare made this disparity of numbers of little effect. From powers of sight and hearing were incredibly acute; the precarious life which these savages had led, their with their bare feet and hands they could climb trees and cliffs like monkeys; and their aim was deadly: it was a common thing among them to strike a dollar with a bullet at one hundred yards. The whole country was a mass of forest and underwood, impassable except to the Maroons, who cut narrow paths through it known only to themselves, and would crawl for miles on hands and coming to an opening, their unerring muskets picked knees through the tracks made by the wild hogs, till, off our sentries, while the marksman was unseen. Driven at length from their towns, they retreated to a range of narrow glens in the interior, walled in by cliffs two hundred feet high, in which they continued as safe as in a fortress, till the English, by cutting a road, were with effect from the upper ground, when the Maroons enabled to bring up their heavy guns, and throw shells escaped at night through the cordon of troops, broke into small parties, and carried fire and sword through the island.

At last the Assembly, in the month of September,

utterly despairing of success, resorted to an expedient which no extremity could justify: they determined to send to Cuba for bloodhounds. The employment, according to Edwards, to which these dogs are generally put by the Spaniards, is the pursuit of wild bullocks, which they slaughter for the hides; and the great use of the dogs is to drive the cattle from such heights and recesses in the mountainous parts of the country as are least accessible to the hunters. Much opposition was made to the plan, as cruel and dastardly, reviving the worst atrocities of the Spaniards, and disgraceful to the British troops; but at length, on the 14th of December, a commissioner landed at Montego Bay with forty chasseurs, or Spanish hunters, and about a hundred dogs.

When these new allies were landed, the wild and formidable appearance of the men and dogs spread terror through the place. The streets were cleared, the doors were shut, not a negro ventured to stir forth, as the muzzled dogs, ferociously making at every object, and dragging forward the chasseurs, who with heavy rattling chains hardly held them in, proceeded onwards. Dallas, in his history, gives the following account of their first appearance before the commander-in-chief: 'Anxious to review the chasseurs, General Walpole left headquarters, the morning after they were landed, before daybreak, and arrived in a postchaise at Seven Rivers, accompanied by Colonel Skinner, whom he appointed to conduct the intended attack. Notice of his coming having preceded him, a parade of the chasseurs was ordered, and they were taken to a distance from the house, in order to be advanced when the general alighted. The Spaniards soon appeared at the end of a gentle acclivity, drawn out in a line containing upwards of forty men, with their dogs in front, and muzzled, and held by cotton ropes. On receiving the command "fire," they discharged their guns, and advanced as upon a real attack. This was intended to ascertain what effect would be produced on the dogs if engaged under the fire of the Maroons. The volley was no sooner discharged, than the dogs rushed forward with the greatest fury, amid the shouts of the Spaniards, who were dragged on by them with irresistible fury. Some of the dogs, maddened by the shouts of attack, while held back by the ropes, seized on the stocks of the guns in the hands of their keepers, and tore pieces out of them. Their impetuosity was so great, that they were with difficulty stopped before they reached the general, who found it necessary to get expeditiously into the chaise from which he had alighted; and if the most strenuous exertions had not been made to stop them, they would most certainly have seized upon his horses.'

This scene was well got up, and it had its effect. General Walpole was ordered to advance on the 14th of January following, with his Spanish dogs in the rear. Their fame, however, had reached the Maroons, and the general had penetrated but a short way into the woods, when a supplication for mercy was brought from the chemy, and 260 of them soon after surrendered, on no other condition than a promise of their lives. It is pleasing to observe,' adds Edwards, that not a drop of blood was spilt after the dogs arrived in the island.' Those who had actually borne arms were soon after transported to Halifax in North America, and ultimately to Sierra Leone, where it is believed their descendants are still to be found. A portion had sided throughout with the English. These have continued a separate people, employed by the authorities as local police, for which their perfect acquaintance with the woods, and capacity of endurance, completely fitted them; but partially civilised, and few in numbers, they differ in little from the rest of the free black population. In the British West Indies, the Maroons may be considered extinct.

France, which assumes to herself the leadership of European civilisation, still upholds slavery in her colonies; but these are too few and scanty to have much effect upon the progress of the emancipation struggle.

The largest of the French West Indian Islands (Guadeloupe) consists, in fact, of two islands, respectively called Grandeterre and Guadeloupe, separated by a salt-water channel, some thirty yards broad. Grandeterre is flat, cultivated, and thickly peopled, almost clear of wood, and without cover. Guadeloupe is one mass of rugged volcanic mountains, rising steeply from the sea, and rent by subterranean fires. In the midst towers the Souffrière, or Sulphur Mountain, to a height of 5500 feet above the sea, which is constantly smoking. There are ravines and caves enough to hide a dozen armies. The whole island is a maze of thickets, in which Columbus with his sailors were bewildered three centuries ago, and which remain in the same state at present.

When daylight

Many years ago, a slave ship from Africa, in attempting to beat up to Basseterre harbour, during the hurricaue months, came ashore on this coast. The crew took to their boats, and the slaves found no difficulty in knocking off their fetters and hiding themselves in the mountains. Once there, they were safe. Other runaways joined them; the negroes deserted by wholesale; and the united body took the name of Kellars-it is not known from what. The planters, for whom a neighbourhood like this was a continual peril, assembled in force to hunt them down, but did not even succeed in coming in sight of their light-footed foes. The same night the Kellars made a descent on the plain, and set fire to the sugar-canes. The wind was strong, and spread the flame, and nearly a half of the magnificent plantations were reduced to ashes. came, the incendiaries were invisible. Pursuit was impossible, and it was resolved to treat. A treaty was made accordingly, which, with few exceptions, has been kept steadily to the present time. The Kellars were allowed the free possession of their mountains, and on their side pledged themselves to commit no farther depredations. Matters remain on this footing at the present day. One half the island is populous, richly cultivated, and reflects across the Atlantic the civilisation of France, while the other half is a howling wilderness, in which the persistence of a nation calling itself Christian, in a system forbidden alike by Christianity and common sense, perpetuates on a smaller scale the barbarism of interior Africa, which will here, as in Jamaica, assuredly one day work out its own retribution.

It would be easy to multiply instances of social outlawry, or at least deprivation of social privilege. The unhappy coloured races throughout the greater part of the American continent offer the more flagrant examples; but others of lesser note haunt our own and other countries. In France, with all its revolutions and code-Napoleons, justice is denied to parties not naturalised; in other words, if one Englishman plunder another Englishman in France, the law admits of no redress. Some years ago, an Englishman who died in France bequeathed his property by will to the Phrenological Society of Edinburgh. The society claimed the money from the trustee, an Englishman in Paris. He resisted payment: the society brought the case into the French courts, and these finally determined that they could not interfere between foreigners! The trustee keeps the property, amounting to several thousand pounds! How different the law of Scotland! A Parisian tradesman sued Charles X. while at Edinburgh, before the Scottish Supreme Court, and the case was determined as if between two British subjects.

It appears to us that the privileges still claimed by royal burghs, and to the freedom of which they occasionally admit strangers, is a relic of the past, which it is time should be swept away. It amounts to this-that certain inhabitants, called burgesses or freemen, claim some kind of superiority of privilege over neighbours less fortunately situated. Think of an advocate of free trade being, by way of compliment to his principles, presented with the freedom of a city! If the presenters really love freedom, they ought long since to have de

nuded themselves of privileges partial in their operation, and which require to be bought or given away. The whole thing is an inconsistency. It is a lingering token of social outlawry.

HANNAH WHITE;

A SKETCH OF IRISH HUMBLE LIFE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF MY FATHER THE LAIRD,' &c.

the family. The two foster-children very naturally
became much attached to each other. Hannah was put
in immediate charge of the baby, and as they grew, they
still clung together the little one seeking sympathy,
the elder one affording protection, attracted to each
other by the indefinable bar which seemed to separate
them from the rest. Little Biddy's quarterly payments
were made regularly for some time, contributing in no
small degree to her wellbeing. They came through the
hands of a humble dealer in groceries in the Liberties
in Dublin, who acted for invisible parents, and always
required the child to be shown to her on these matter-
of-business occasions; but at last, on nurse and nurs-
ling making their usual visit, the shop was changed, the
mistress of it had disappeared-she was bankrupt. A
Biddy never heard more of her early protector. She
did not suffer much from the disappointment. She was
a very pretty and a lively child, and none having been
born in the house since her babyhood, she remained a
sort of pet in it. Poor Hannah had to bear the rubs:
early and late the little hardy body worked. Out and
in-rain, snow, or wind-Hannah did every one's bid-
ding: she was used to it, and she hardly minded. Her
business of messenger took her at least six times a week
on errands to the minister's, where she carried butter,
eggs, fowl, and such things, and brought back help in
sickness, yarn for knitting, and many a bundle of old
clothes for the children. It was in this house that she
found her friends-made by herself, by her good-hu-
mour, her activity, her steadiness, and perhaps her rags;
for her scanty raiment, and her bare, red feet, had early
attracted the pitying notice of her future mistress.
The sister of the minister's wife was married to the
officer in whose family Hannah passed her many happy
years of service. Under the careful superintendence of
these kind masters, she improved quickly in all good
qualities, rewarding the pains bestowed upon her by her
increased intelligence and ever-anxious zeal for the in-
terests of her kind employers.

HANNAH WHITE had been for many years the confi-
dential nursery-maid of an officer and his wife, whose
fortunes she had faithfully followed into different quar-
ters of the globe. She was an Irish girl; one of an un-
fortunately numerous class, abandoned from their birth
to the care of strangers, called amongst her country-shoemaker was established in the premises, and little
people a nurse-child.' Her parents, whom she had
never seen, were servants in different gentlemen's fami-
lies in Dublin. Her mother, on the approach of her
hour of delivery, had repaired to the lying-in hospital,
where she had been carefully attended for the regulated
fortnight, and on leaving which, she had parted with her
baby to one of the many healthy young women from the
country who crowd the gates of the institution, in the
hope of receiving, with the charge of a new-born child,
the welcome five pounds, which is to repay them, they
fancy at least, tenfold for the additional burden to their
family. The little creature was fortunate in her nurse-
a decent farmer's wife in the mountains, who had lost
her own first baby; and not being worn out with one
twelvemonth's cares before undertaking a second of
equal fatigue, was able to do justice to her nursling;
and having the comfort of a cow, and other land privi-
leges, the home she carried it to was comparatively
respectable.

Here Hannah for some years acted the part of an only child-eating as much potatoes and buttermilk as she could conveniently pack within her little sturdy person, sharing at festivals in the dinner of bacon with greens or calecannon, and on Sunday mornings having her bit of griddle bread and butter, and her cup of tea; and free at all times to roam the wilds she lived in unconfined. At the end of the first year, her mother made a new bargain with her nurse: three pounds a year was to be the future payment for her board, but there were large promises of advances, and presents, and clothing, a good bundle of which, new and old, some neatly made for the child, the rest useful to the nurse, was readily handed over as earnest. It was the last transaction between the parties. The following year, Hannah's mother could not be found. She had quitted her place, engaged with another family, gone to England, left no traces. The father had never brought himself prominently forward; there was no clue to him. The child was in truth deserted. But the nurse, and indeed her husband also, had become attached to their charge, and they brought back the poor baby to their home and hearts, well knowing they would be never a penny the better for her. Nor did they neglect her after children of their own were born to them. She had her share of what was going, at least after younger pets were served. She was useful among the little crew; and as she grew older, she went the messages, and did the work long, long before her strength was fully equal to it. But she knew that she was a nurse-child, that no money was coming for her, and that she had no right to consider herself as quite a daughter of the house.

When she was about twelve years of age, the comforts of her mountain home became considerably reduced. A season or two of failing crops, the loss of a cow, and the increase of children, were all pressing heavily upon the parents who had adopted her. To replace the cow, her foster-mother determined to take another nursechild, undeterred by the questionable success of her former attempt in that line: the five pounds in hand was of such importance in the eyes of both wife and husband, that they overlooked all future uncertainty; so a little Biddy, and the highly-valued cow, were added to

She was what is called a middle-aged woman when she returned to Ireland. Her master and mistress had come to settle for their old age in their own country -not near the hills where she was reared. The minister who had been so kind to her in her childhood had removed to a better living, and had engaged a house for his connexions in his new neighbourhood. She had thus for some time back lost traces of her early home. While he had remained in his first glebe, she had often heard of what she called her family; but after he left it, she had received little news of them. All she exactly understood was, that her foster-father had become very feeble, her foster - mother was dead, the children dispersed, and little Biddy married. She determined, however, to look after them all. She had saved money. She was in a way to reflect credit on them-to help them, not to require help from them. She knew that though she had worked hard enough for it, she had always got her share of what was going with them, and she had a grateful remembrance of what had been done for her. Her heart warmed also to poor Biddy, to whom she had often sent substantial marks of affection through the minister. In short, she was resolved to visit the home of her childhood. She set out on a fine autumn morning, on an outside jaunting-car, with her trunk and her carpet-bag, her heavy cloak and her handbasket, in company with five other travellers, well protected by frieze coats and duffel cloaks from the weather. The day was pleasant, the company sociable, the car not very crazy, nor the horse quite lame. He was changed once or twice upon the road for twin brothers apparently, so like are the individuals of his wretched class. Towards the afternoon, Hannah recognised her former neighbourhood, little changed from what she remembered it: all the great features remained, and all the little ones were as yet indistinct to her. She was set down at the end of a lane leading up to the mountain farm where she was reared. A solitary cabin stood by

inquiries, and seeing a decent-looking woman in the act of filling a trough, just inside her door, with potato peelings for her pig, she half hoped to recognise the features of her foster-sister, as the woman raised her head to reply-Is it Larry* Quin's? Sure he has no cabin it's only lodging he is in a little room at Luke Brady's, on the side of the big pool there beyant, as ye turn to go on to the chapel: he has the kitchen part: that cabin there with the big stone again' the chimley wall.'

the roadside, where she was told she would get help in lime house, neatly thatched, and newly whitewashed, enthe transport of her luggage, as it was a sort of house-couraged her a little; she stopped at the door to make of-call for wayfarers, in evidence of which a tidy-looking old woman came forward from it, to receive her bag and basket, as also several small parcels consigned to her care by the carman. The old woman's face, though lengthened and sharpened, was familiar to Hannah. She soon recognised the wife of the herd whom she remembered in the service of her early friend the minister, one of whose last kind acts, before leaving the district, had been to establish this old couple in a small cabin, with a bit of potato garden attached to it, the rent of which he paid for them to the gentleman in whose shrubberies the old man worked. They were decent and industrious, and so more comfortable than many could have contrived to be in their station. The old woman gave Hannah a most cordial welcome home,' putting on the kettle in preparation for the cup of tea, which is the usual refreshment offered where both parties are above a certain humble grade.

Much conversation passed of course upon the topics naturally interesting both to guest and hostess. Hannah mentioned her intention of seeking out her fostermother's family, of visiting her foster-father at his little farm, but first establishing herself with Biddy, whose cabin she meant to make her abode while remaining in the country. The old woman heard her very quietly. For an off-handed people, as they are said to be, it is singular how very cautious the Irish are in committing themselves by advice, or opinion, or information. She replied dryly, that the morrow would be time enough for the walk to the hill farm: as it was some miles off, and the night coming on, her visitor had best take her bed where she was; she would find it clean, and she would be obliging an old friend; and as she had a fortnight's leave, there was no need to hurry. But Biddy was at no great distance, Hannah said. Biddy, she knew, lived in the village close at hand, on the road to the bog, a little piece beyond the turn at the end of the lane, convenient to the old highway. She must go on at once to Biddy: she would take her basket with her, leave her cloak and bag, and send Biddy's husband up for them and her trunk either that night or the next morning. The old woman merely coughed, promised to take all care of the luggage left with her; and seeing her friend determined on proceeding to the village, offered no farther dissuasions, only adding, as she bade her God speed,' that if she found Biddy had no way of putting her up comfortably, she hoped she would return where she would be certain of the best of welcomes. Hannah bade the old woman a kind farewell, and set out, walking briskly down the lane, every object she encountered beginning to return to her faithful recollection with a familiarity almost unbroken. At the turn, she came, as she expected, within sight of the village. A strange collection of hovels it appeared to her now; and as she approached it, the street looked dirtier, the cottages more ruinous, the air of desolation more apparent. The cabins were principally built of mud, and had been whitewashed at some time or other, thatched at an equally uncertain period either with straw or rushes, overgrown now by moss, and grass, and various lichens, and in sad need in many places of repair. Windows were some built up, some half-filled up; others with only a broken shutter to the opening where a window should have been; while in some walls any means for the admittance of light had been altogether forgotten. Doors were such as suited the style of windows; doorways were in perfect keeping with the condition of the road they bordered; heaps of manure lay beside each threshold; fowl, and pigs, and dirty children lay about, or wandered amongst the filthy riches of the place; and as Hannah walked along, a dirty cap, over bronzed features and matted hair, peeped at her from every wretched dwelling, in wonder at the decent stranger. Her heart sank within her: Biddy reduced to this: she felt unwilling to ask for her amidst such evidences of misery. A stone-and

Hannah walked on along the road to the big pool, round the corner of the muddy pond, over to the house she had been directed to; several children were within, seated quietly on the mud floor, dabbling with hands and feet in the dirt around them. She stood a moment to pick her way through the offensive draining from the dung-heap against the wall, by means of two or three large stones placed for the purpose.

'God save all here!' said she on stooping to enter, for she had not in all her travels forgotten the touching salutation of her country. Whose house is this?' asked she: she could not bring herself to frame her question more assuredly.

'Larry Quin's,' cried a quick, sharp voice from beside
a wooden cradle, which the speaker, a lanky boy of
eight years old or so, was rocking lazily.
Larry Quin's!' repeated Hannah.
'Is he your
father?"

'He is,' screamed the lanky boy.
'Where is your mother?'

'Gone to the well for a sup of water to bile the praties.'

'Where's your father?'

'Binding there above at Bryan Casey's, on the commons, where he does be working.'

Hannah looked round: seat there was none; light very little; bare walls, smoky rafters, a wet clay floor; fire, furniture, all wanting; no bed. A large pot, two broken teacups on the window sill, a tin teapot, and three or four tin porringers, were all that she could discover in the room, except the five half-naked and very dirty children. The old woman's cautious cough recurred to her. It seemed very likely that she should not find her foster-sister in a way to put her up comfortably.

'Get out o' that now, at wanst!' said rather a coarse voice outside to the little dirty squad that blockaded the doorway; and in a second the naked feet of the mistress of this Irish labourer's home appeared inside the threshold.

Biddy Quin was a young and very handsome woman. She would have excited general admiration could her person have been seen to advantage in decent clothing, and her features have been distinguished instead of being concealed by dirt. Even as she was, tattered, and soiled, and careworn, at a distance, with her piggin of water on her head, the natural grace of her figure would have delighted a painter. But to tidy Hannah, in her clean gown and spotless shawl, the near approach of any being so little familiar with the use of soap gave any feeling but one of pleasure. The recognition was therefore a different sort of scene from what had been expected. Hannah was almost as much annoyed as she was distressed. Her manner was reserved in consequence. Biddy showed some surprise; a little mortification; not any particular affection; while there was a sort of hope in her look and her voice, and her words even, of benefit to be reaped from this visit of her fostersister, which, though natural in their circumstances, and indeed prepared for as well as expected, jarred somewhat against the feelings of the presumed benefactor.

After a few introductory exclamations, a little nervous chiding of the children, and many blessings scattered

* Short for Lawrence.

« ZurückWeiter »