SOME of the jolliest visitors were from the potato patch. They were
Irish, of course, and every one knows how much fun there is in all
Irish people. There was not a serious looking one in the whole family.
The mother had a most peculiar face, round and plump and happy, but
deformed. Though she had more than the usual number of eyes, they were
not located so she could use them as _eyes_.
One was on her cheek just where others sometimes have dimples, so she
used that for a dimple. Another was on her forehead, and another just
where an eye should have been for seeing purposes. But, sad to tell,
this one had a sprout in it, and a sprout in the eye would ruin any
one’s sight.
Had it not been for the little Wests, the Irish woman might have
been blind all her life. With an ordinary lead pencil an operation
was performed on her face which gave her a beautiful round eye just
opposite the afflicted one.
This so pleased her that a broad smile spread over her face—a smile
that she wore as long as she lived—and that was reflected in the faces
of all of her family.
If you had asked her how it happened that they were always smiling, she
would have said, “Sure, smiles are catching, just like measles.” When
one in a family has them, they all do. Yes, they’re just as catching as
measles, and much pleasanter to have.
Other potatoes were made up into gay Irish maidens, with early rose
complexions, and into Irish men, with sun-browned faces, and into
sturdy Irish children.
[Illustration: AN IRISH (POTATO) WOMAN]
These were able to stand up very nicely too, having good substantial
Irish (potato) feet.
And who ever heard of an Irish family without a pig? And were not
potatoes the most natural things in the world to make pigs of?
Nothing could have been easier to make. A long potato was the body,
four matches the legs, two pins the eyes, while a curled dandelion stem
made the most natural pig tail imaginable.
[Illustration: AN IRISH PIG]