A RETUNRED EMIGRANT.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXII, Issue 16, 16 August 1895, Page 25

A RETUNRED EMIGRANT.

(By Kathabine Tynan Hinkson, in the Aye Maria.} Mary Cassidy was going home to Ireland a rich woman, from her point of view, but bankrupt of the hope and the youth with which she had made tbe journey out nearly half a century ago. She had been then a black-eyed, red-cheeked, etrong-bnilt girl, awkward and good-natured. The times were troubled when she left. There had bren a couple of black, bitter seasons and the blight was spotting the potatoes in tbe early summer of the year. The famine loomed oppor* tunely, as it Beemed, to help tbe Government ; for " the boys" bad been drilling for seme time back, and the feeling of the conntry had been inflamed by the spaeches and the written oratory and poetry of a band of ideal patriots. But can you make successful revolntiom of half-starved men ? Everywhere over Europe revolutions were flaring up ; and a few months after Mary Cassidy 's departure for New York the Irißh rising flickered feebly and went ont. The conntry wm already too depressed with the famine, and the famine-fever to feel th« new bow rf ihe revolution abortive and the leaders in prison.

Cholera was sweeping steadily toward it, and on the black lips of the hunger-stricken there was no room for martial songs that a summer O*- two ago had Bet hearts beating and blood wildly coursing. There was a more relentless foe even than the EDglish Government to be faced, and the odds wera a thousand to one against emaciated bodies and exhausted vitality. But these blacker events were yet in the distance when Mary Cassidy sailed away. She left in Kilclooney a delicate mother and a young sister. Her mo her worked for some ladies in the neighbourhood, and earned enough from her minute and conscientious mending and darning to keep body and eoul together in herself and the two children. Mary was little more than a child when she left Ireland, and would have been well content *ith field-work in Kilcloooey vale, that opens to heaven, and is Bbut by eurnal walls of mountains from the world and the evil in it. Kilclooney village, with the church and the school, the police barracks, the general shop and the public house, was world enough for Mary. She had never forgotten tha day when t-hewas called ia from driving a flick of gaese through the stubble — each of them careful'y tranefixfd at the beak with a ktifE B'raw to keep it from noting the stacks— and fonnd her mother sitting uncomfortably listening to Miss Leslie's arguments on the subject of emigration. The Misses Leslie of the Manor had beeu bitten with the philanthropic fad which for the last half century or so has been expatriating the young sons ai»d daughters of the Irish. " Listen to Miss Leslie, acushla 1 " said the half-tearful mother when Mary had made her dutiful curtsey; " and remember she's all for your good." The little girl stood fingering her pinafore, and hearing without comprehending Miss Lsalie's picture of an El Dorado over ibe water. .Next spring ser m^d as far away to Mary as it did to the callow goslirga who were looking for titbits out the door. 6hu tcarce'y realised what had b en agreed upon when she went back to her goose-driving and blackberry-picking ; and indeed never imagined the parting till she was on Mick Flynn's locg car, board for the distant town and the railway station, when sbe set up "a screechin' " tha*, as her poor mother put it, " nearly tore my heart in two." It was through the flood-tide of young tears Mary last taw

her mother's fact ; and bo great was her loneliness and terror of the big, unknown world beyond Kilclooney that sbe would have flung herself from the car but for some of the kindly neighbours who were bound the same long journey. Mary kept up h«r noisy giief till they were aboard the steamer at Queenetown, when her new world began to distract her, and she turned a more willing ear to the golden dreams of her companions of the fortunes to be made in New York, And the Bums they would send to the people at home. Poor Mary's first experience was & sufficiently hard one. She engaged with a stern New York boarding-house keeper as kitchen, maid and general drndge. Mrs Deely thought Mary ought to bo very gratefal to any one burdening herself with the girl's " Irish awkwardness," and Mary accepted her assurance in absolute good faith. Twenty dollars a year seemed a large sum to Mary's unsophisticated eyes, and she became the willing drudge of the household and the slave of the old negress who ruled the kitchen, and of whom at firit Mary was terrified. She was not long out when the cholera discovered Kilclooney, Bank between its moan tains. Ooe or two letters of Mary's remained nnanswe cd. Then the girl grew alarmed, since already panicstricken refugees from plague and famine were appearing in the streets of New York. Sbd wro'e to the priest, and received a pitying answer. Her mother and Teasy were both dead of the cholera, and henceforth Mary was alone in the world. She bore the blow with a dumb resignation very characteristic of her. Her patience moved even her mistress and Mandy the cook to a certain sympathy ; the more that she shirked none of her work, despite the heavy sense of desolation that was never absent from her, The hard climate and incessant work and her life in the basement told on Mary. She stopped growing, and became more awkwardlooking because she was Btunted. Th i white in her face went yellow, though she kept the hard bright colour of her checks. She was as strong as a little mule, and tramped and carried and scrubbed and swept, with never a complaint, After a time she began to take comfort from the affection of Mrs Duty's spoilt little crippled boy. Adolph was so crosß with everyone else that his mother rejoiced when he took a fancy to Mary. Mary laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks when he told her that she was bo very pretty ; but Adolph w is in earnest, and would have kisses and affection for Mary at a time when even bis mother was moved to tears by his impetious rejection of her cSersof service. The capricious love was the first warmth to steal iuto Mary's heart after she had had the black news from home. Bhe grew to love the child who was so difficult with everyone else, and abe worked harder than ever in order to snatch intervals of leisure when she might be with him during the day. It was at this time Miss Somers, a lady who wrote stories, came for a few days to Mrs Deely'a boarding-house. Before she left she made a startling proposal to Mary. " I want you to come with me," she said, " out of this unwholesome place, and be my servant. I'll treat you like a fellow-creature, and I believe we'd make each other happy." The wages the kind-hearted lady offered seemed enormous to Mary ; bat there was Adolph, and at the thought of him she was braced op to refute. She looked at Mies Somers' strong, clever face, and thought how much she should like to be her servant, but she ■tood firm. " Master Adolph, the poor wee man, would roar bis life out. No, Miss ; I thank you kiadly ; bnt, all the Bame, I can't go." Miss Somers refrained from saying what she thought that , Adolph would not lung stand in the way. She only smiled kindly at Mary, and said : " Well, you good creature, stay with the boy. But it only makes me want to have you the more. If you ever change your mind, wiite to me at this address."

A few months later Mary, in evident trouble, and wearing a bit of black ribbon for mourning at her neck, arrived at Miss Bomere' cottage in New York State, on the border of the pine woods. " I'm glad to see you, Mary," said her new mistress. « I'm plagued with the little monkey who has been pretending to do my work. I've packed her home to her mother. Take off your bonnet, and go and see your kitchen." This was Mary's installation in the home thit was to bs hers tor forty yeara. For that great stretch of life mistress ted maid abode together in great peace and affection . Occasionally they locked up the cottage and went for a while to New York, or to the mountain or the sea in the hot weather, and returned rejoicing to the cottage in its garden, which seemed ever so sweet and restful. Mary managed all the housekeeping, while Miss Somers wrote her books ; and bo the two grew old women.