THE EMERALD ISLE.

Waikato Times, Volume 97, Issue 15185, 10 March 1923, Page 11 (Supplement)

THE EMERALD ISLE.

lI.—IRELAND AND IRISH. (By Darius.) Allow me to proceed with the presentation of the bookmaker at Rooney Castle in the excellent words of the K.C. "When the bookmaker arrived in the town which he had been informed had the honour of numbering Rooney castle amongst its domiciles, he made inquiries of his landlord in regard to its location. "I have been here for many years," said the latter, "but this is the first time I have heard of such a castle as that you mention. But stay, I'll call the ostler, he may know." And assuredly he did and gave the necessary directions. "The B.M. met the lady Rooney, a poor old woman leaning on a stick and almost bent double, who was carrying in her apron a supply of turf for the cabin fire, and "Praise be to Cod" you know my Andy!" she exclaimed, dropping the peats as she spoke in the ecstacy of the revelation. "You must come in to the cabin and break bread with me." He entered a place of extreme poverty, for the Lady Rooney was living on charitable aid. "Her Man" had been a blacksmith and her visitor was invited to rinse his hands in the large circular basin which he had used to hold water for cooling his irons! The visitor was then seated on the anvil and set to a repast of red herring, corn meal cakes and black tea. There were innumerable holes in the thatch, but in all her poverty the occupier of Rooney Castle was still a lady, and had thought not for herself and her condition of life, but for her beloved Andy. The B.M. handed her twenty-five sovereigns which he said was a present from her boy, and, overloaded with blessings, took his departure. The Bookmaker's Interpretation.

"In due course the Australian, like all Australians, returned and was welcomed by Andy and "the bhoys." And, "according to promise," he said, addressing the nervous Andy, "I called and made myself known at Castle Rooney." "Ah, sure, and did you now," said the heir to the ancient halls, "and they treated ve well, did they not now." "I had," said the 8.M., "one of the greatest surprises of my life. I met the lady Rooney returning in the afternoon from collecting valuable mosses, and she invited me in to dine with her. The basin I washed in was of extraordinary design, and extremely massive. The linen was not to be compared to anything I have seen in use for toilet purposes in Australia. The beverage set before me was from a foreign country, and all the other viands on the table were imported, while the castle was lit from the roof by innumerable lights as though they shone from heaven.

"It was a glorified Andy who listened in grateful surprise, and when the company had dispersed to allow himself and'the B.M. some further opportunity for discussing the glories of the old castle, he said, "Sure, and ye didn't give me away before the bhoys." "Look," said the 8.M., "you have all that a man needs while the Lady Rooney is living on charity. I gave her twenty-five sovereigns as a gift from you, and she praised God for the goodness of her son. It's just as good as sent by you anyhow because you're going to hand it to me right now, or else the boys will know you for the man you are and Castle Rooney for the pitiable cabin that, God forgive me, shelters the frail body and brave soul of a true Irishwoman any man might be proud to call 'Mother.' "

The Irish of To-day. 'We talk wnh an air of wisdom," continued the K.C. of Ireland, "of the troubles of Ireland aiui the causes of them. He will tell you religion, or rather sectarianism is the main cause. This is absolute nonsense because the best men are always tolerant in regard to religious distinctions, though there are fanatics in every creed, church, and sect. There are more difficult things to overcome in Ireland than religious differences."

"Originally Ireland was a 'distressful country' by unjust landlordism and English domination, but those days arc gone forever and Ireland of to-day has the best land laws of any country on the earth. The Wyndham Land Bill is the best ever passed into law. Under it a house may be erected on every fifty acres of first-class land. For this purpose one and a half acres are cornpulsorily taken from the original owner and conveyed to a cotter who pays two and sixpence, or something near to that amount, per week in rent for a term of forty-nine years, at the termination of which period he becomes (he owner. I believe that the time has now been extended to seventy-nine years so as to permit of smaller payments being made in rent. It must be understood that from £BB to £IOO is a sufficient sum with which to build a four-roomed cottage with slate roof, plaster walls, outhouses, piggeries, and a pla-cc for a cow or donkey. This means that labour and material arc cheap, while wages average from one pound per week in summer to twelve shillings in winter. Under such conditions Ireland should have a very contented peasantry, and this, undoubtedly it would have but for fiery and somewhat irresponsible agitators. The small tenants have nothing to gain by war, murder, and pillage, and everything to lose. It is the same with the other agriculturists and land owners. "The Irish peasant is just as responsible for the Irish turmoil as you are for the great war. lie may talk politics loudly and emphatically, but there are restraining ties of home and family, thank God I and these make the only gleams of hope in Ireland's black night of terror." Insuperable Barriers.

"Ireland is a divided country more by temperamental interdiction than by sectarian. Sectarian differences are not the acute dividing line although there is an inseparable door between the Ulster Presbyterian and (he southern Catholic. There are, however, racial differences that are more fatal to concord. In the North there is the stubborn Ulster man, a derivative of the dour unbending Scot, who had in him the stuff or which martyrs were made. About. Galway there is the Spanish type. On the East Coast the ginger heads of the Danish type are found. All these types and more may lw traced to their origin, regarding which there is no doubt. Ah, well! betwixt the mixed typos and the agitators and tin'' imported punmen and those who seek fame through the infamy of "plugging" such men as "Mickeen," we watch and wait, and wonder. Poor Mick Collins. Coil r<\*l His soul, and Cud help Ireland with the madness in brain, yel ever t<-> us in good ox iil —dear old friend."