County Mayo, continued the traffic officer, County Mayo, say Clancy, stay
here just a minute till I go head to that big car and see why in the
devil he backed into you.
* * * * *
The following anecdote is illustrative of eviction days in Ireland.
Pat had served part of his time as a bricklayer in the old country. On
arrival in America, he was watching some bricklayers at work when the
foreman observed him:
Can they do it as quick as that in Ireland, Pat?
They can indeed, and twice as quick, answered Pat.
Do you know, said the foreman, that we start a house here in the morning
and it’s finished and a tenant in it before evening.
That’s all you can do, is it? Well, said Pat, in Ireland we start a house
in the morning and the landlord is evicting the tenant for back rent
before evening.
* * * * *
Strange as it may seem, there is a public man in this city who is blessed
or cursed with a tender conscience that worries him in small matters as
well as in great. Among the things that he cannot justify to himself
is the bidding a servant to say he is not at home when, in reality, he
is inside his house. At the same time he is not able to receive the
many visitors who call upon him, and his only recourse was to give
instructions that polite excuses should be given to a maid, an Irish
girl, gifted with the readiness and good-will of her nation.
Then I’m to be saying, sir, that you’re not at home? the maid inquired.
No, Mary, no! was the reply; that would not be true. If anyone should ask
for me, you must just put him off—give him some evasive answer, you know.
I’ll do it, sir, never fear, was the maid’s reply. Mary was as good as
her word.
That afternoon a person of importance made his appearance, and was duly
sent away. The faithful maid reported the circumstance to her employer.
What did you do, Mary? inquired the latter with some trepidation.
Oh, I just put him off, sir, as you told me. I gave him an evasive answer.
Yes, but what did you say to him?
Oh, sure, he axed me if the boss was at home, and I said to him, was his
grandmother a monkey?
* * * * *
There were some deficiencies in the early education of Mrs. Donahoe, but
she never mentioned them or admitted their existence.
Will you sign your name here? said the young lawyer whom Mrs. Donahoe had
asked to draw up a deed transferring a parcel of land to her daughter.
You sign it yoursilf an I’ll make me mark, said the old woman, quickly.
Since me eyes gave out I’m not able to write a wurrd, young man.
How do you spell it? he asked, pen poised above the proper space.
Spell it what iver way you plaze, said Mrs. Donahoe, recklessly. Since I
lost me teeth there’s not a wurrd in the wurrld I can spell.
* * * * *
A story is going the rounds in the court house of an Irishman who
recently went before Judge Stephens to be naturalized.
Have you read the Declaration of Independence? the Court asked.