THE IRISH COUPLE.
Albany--The Irish mother--Incidents that occured five
years ago--The disappointed emigrants--The Little
Falls--Rural retirement.
_Fairfield, N. Y., Sept. 22._
Our stopping place in Albany was at CONGRESS HALL, which we reached some
time before the sun sent his resplendent beams abroad: the morning was damp
and hazy, and upon the whole every thing looked dull and gloomy around us.
We were, however, occupying one of the most delightful positions in the
place--our inn being located on one corner of the beautiful enclosure in
front of the capitol or state-house, whence we could overlook almost the
entire city. As I sat down by a window which commanded a view of the
state-house park, or square, my travelling companion directed my attention
to a female, who with tattered vestments and feeble steps, was pacing
backwards and forwards one of the gravelled walks in the verdant enclosure
before us. She was carrying in her arms a sickly looking infant, some nine
or ten months old, and the whole appearance both of the mother and child,
seemed to indicate that they were houseless wanderers, and had passed the
night without a shelter. As in her continued walks up and down the
gravelled avenue, she occasionally approached near the window where we sat,
I saw that she was about middle aged, and had evidently once had a fine and
expressive countenance, though the traces of sorrow and grief were now
deeply worn there.
We were called to our breakfast: as soon as it was dispatched we hurried
away from our hotel to the grand railroad depot, whence we were to take our
departure westward. On our way we passed directly by the gravelled walk,
where we had seen the poor woman, who had so much excited our sympathy. She
now sat on the ground, her infant sleeping in her lap, and herself
apparently absorbed in melancholy. She was evidently of Irish extraction,
and though her appearance bore evidence of extreme poverty, there were no
indications about her of intemperance. I could not but think what a tale of
sorrow, of disappointed hopes, and perhaps of cruelly blighted innocence,
would that Irish mother's history, if recorded, unfold. My thoughts
immediately went back to that beautiful Emerald Isle, over whose green
fields I had so recently roamed. Though I had seen some misery there, I had
seen much happiness and contentment. I verily believe there is often to be
found more real happiness in the mud cottage than in the gilded palace. The
Irish have strong and generous feelings, and strong family affection. As I
saw that poor Irish mother sitting there upon the ground, so forlorn and
desolate, my imagination pictured to me her early home, where she passed
her childhood beneath the glad eye of her affectionate parents. They saw
her grow up, the pride of their heart, and thought that she would be the
solace of their declining years. But the tempter came--she was lured from
her home--she passed over the deep waters, and found herself in a foreign
land. Her base husband soon showed himself the degraded victim of
intemperance, and after a few years deserted her--leaving her houseless,
homeless, in poverty, and broken-hearted sorrow. Perhaps in point of fact
there were no lines in the history of that poor Irish mother in
correspondence with this picture, but I believe, if the real history of
many an emigrant from that green isle were known, we should feel more
kindly to that people, and the heart and hand of Christian charity would be
more frequently open to relieve the destitute among them. I know not where
we shall find on earth such noble elements of character as in the Irish
race. I confess I have been charmed and filled with admiration with some
specimens I have met of Irish Christian gentlemen. I cannot turn my face
away from any poor Irishman who asks alms at my door, unless he be
manifestly the victim of intemperance, and begs to procure the means of
indulgence in this sin. It is true we are sometimes liable to be deceived.
Clothes and money are sometimes procured under false pretexts. But even
then they may minister to the comfort of the destitute, and if we have
given for Christ's sake, we shall not lose our reward.
I do not mean by these remarks to intimate that I regard it as a Christian
duty to give to all without discrimination who ask alms at our hands--but
simply to say, that I think it better to give to twenty undeserving objects
than to turn our face away from one who is Christ's representative here on
earth. (Mat. xxv. 35-46.) Neither do I mean to affirm, that there is not
danger of being deceived by some who make large demands upon us for
assistance. In such cases we should undoubtedly proceed with great caution:
and even then, after all, we may be beguiled. A case in point now occurs to
me.
While residing in New England, on a dull, cold, rainy Saturday afternoon,
some five years ago, I heard a ring at my door. As the servant did not
immediately appear to answer the call, I myself went to the door, where I
found two persons in shabby and tattered dress, standing on the steps, with
their clothes dripping with rain. The female was the first to speak,
inquiring if I would not render some assistance to a distressed couple, who
were extremely destitute, and far from country and home. The tones of her
voice were so sweet and gentle, her manners so modest and unobtrusive, and
the language which she used so well chosen, and even elegant, I felt
convinced that they had indeed seen better days, and I should have done the
greatest violence to my feelings, and every better principle of my nature,
had I not opened my door and bid them enter. After they had dried
themselves by the fire, and partaken of some refreshment, I asked them to
tell me their history. The outline of it was as follows:--They were both
natives of Ireland, where they had always resided till about four years
since. Mrs. S----, the name of this female, and the wife of the man who
accompanied her, was the daughter of a clergyman of the Established Church,
who was vicar of a parish in Ireland, the name of which I do not now
recollect. She was brought up in great tenderness and highly educated, as
she was an only daughter. Being a novel reader and full of romantic ideas,
she took it into her head to fall in love with a young bricklayer, who was
engaged in working upon a house that was building near the vicarage. She
found means of meeting him unknown to her parents, and they were soon
engaged to be married. At the appointed time she stole away secretly from
home, met her lover at a specified spot, and then they went together to a
distant part of the country, where they were married. She then sent home to
her parents, confessing the whole affair. They were very indignant, and
returned so severe an answer, that she and her husband concluded to embark
at once for America.--They soon put their resolution into execution, and
after a very long voyage found themselves at Montreal, without any means of
subsistence. Her husband succeeded in obtaining some employment, so that
they lived along comfortably for nearly a year. About this time she became
the mother of a little daughter; and accidentally hearing that the Rev. Mr.
----, who was a brother of her mother's, and had been in this country
several years, was residing at Troy, she persuaded her husband to go with
her in quest of her uncle. When they reached Troy, they found that there
was no Rev. Mr. ---- residing there. Here they lived for some time, Mr.
S---- hiring himself out to a builder, who was carrying on a large business
there. After S---- had earned about one hundred dollars besides his living,
this builder unexpectedly failed, and absconded without paying off any of
his hands. S---- was again left in poverty, and without employment. A few
months before, their little babe had sickened and died. They had recently
heard that their relative resided in Boston. They therefore started off
with the hope of finding him: having at length reached Northampton in great
destitution, they made known their situation to the Rev. Dr. P----, who
relieved them from present distress, and informed them that the clergyman
whom they were seeking lived in Philadelphia. With a view of going thither
they had come to the place where I resided. The whole story appeared
natural, and though they told it to a number of different individuals, they
never contradicted themselves. Mr. S---- was rough and uncultivated--just
such a man as a bricklayer would be. On the other hand Mrs. S---- was
evidently an accomplished lady. She was acquainted with books, played on
the piano forte, and sung beautifully. A clergyman bearing the name of the
one whom she claimed as her uncle, actually resided in Philadelphia, and
had not long since visited England and Ireland, as she said. I could detect
no incongruity in any part of the narrative. They remained with us a
week--during which time a number of our friends fitted them both out with
new apparel, and procured for them the means of travelling with comfort to
Philadelphia. I have seldom known so much sympathy to be awakened for
destitute strangers as there was in their case. Several individuals
accompanied them to the steamboat when they left, and wished them God
speed. I sent by them a letter to the Rev. Mr. ---- informing him of the
facts above related. This was the last I ever heard of them! I saw the Rev.
Mr. ---- in a few months; he informed me he had never received the letter,
that he had no relatives in Ireland, and that so far as he was concerned it
must have been a sheer fabrication. My friends and myself, when these facts
came to our knowledge, had a hearty laugh over this affair, and though we
regretted that this Irish couple had used such deception, at least in one
particular we did not regret that we had fed the hungry, clothed the
naked, and sent them on their way with solemn admonitions about the
salvation of their souls.
Very little of interest is to be seen on the way between Albany and
Schenectady across those sandy plains, save the distant tops of the
Cattskill to the south, and the misty summits of the Green mountains to the
north. Our course from Schenectady up the valley of the Mohawk was very
delightful. The beautiful sylvan scenery up this valley, with its broken
sheets of water, and dark rich verdure, reminded me of some scenes in
England, which I can never forget. I need not describe the grand and rugged
mountain scenery which nature has thrown up in forms of singular wildness
around the _Little Falls_, nor the upland and undulating country through
which one has to pass to reach the spot whence I write.
Here then, I am, far away from the strife of tongues, the agitations of
business, and the dust and din of the city. The green hills are all around
me, presenting a coat of dark rich verdure, which shows that they have not
this season felt the blight of the withering and far-spread drought. All
amid these retired hills appears full of quietness and repose--a fit place
in which to study one's own heart and try to get nearer to heaven. I
attended the other evening, what in England would be denominated _a cottage
meeting_. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood were gathered together in a
private house, and after suitable devotions conducted by the pastor, the
people were familiarly and solemnly addressed on the subject of their
immortal interests. These meetings, I understand, are held weekly in
different parts of the village, and will, I doubt not, carry salvation to
many a house. What an inexpressible blessing is a faithful pastor, who
cares for the flock, and uses every means in his power to guide them in the
way everlasting!