This is an island of anomalies: the Irish peasants will puzzle you,
perplex you, disappoint you with their inconsistencies, but keep
from liking them if you can! There are a few cleaner and more
comfortable homes in Lisdara and Knockcool than when we came, and
Benella has been invaluable, although her reforms, as might be
expected, are of an unusual character, and with her the wheels of
progress never move silently, as they should, but always squeak.
With the two golden sovereigns given her to spend, she has bought
scissors, knives, hammers, boards, sewing materials, knitting
needles, and yarn,--everything to work with, and nothing to eat,
drink, or wear, though Heaven knows there is little enough of such
things in Lisdara.
"The quicker you wear 'em out, the better you'll suit me," she says
to the awestricken Lisdarians. "I'm a workin' woman myself, an'
it's my ladies' money I've spent this time; but I'll make out to
keep you in brooms and scrubbin' brushes, if only you'll use 'em!
You mustn't take offence at anything I say to you, for I'm part
Irish--my grandmother was Mary Boyce of Trim; and if she hadn't come
away and settled in Salem, Massachusetts, mebbe I wouldn't have
known a scrubbin' brush by sight myself!"
Chapter XXI. Lachrymae Hibernicae.
'What ails you, Sister Erin, that your face
Is, like your mountains, still bedewed with tears?
. . . .
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