On the evening before, several of his more distant
relatives came to take their farewell of him, and, in compliance with
the usages of Irish hospitality, they were detained for the night. They
did not, however, come empty-handed: some brought money; some brought
linen, stockings, or small presents--"jist, Jimmy, asthore, to keep me
in yer memory, sure,--and nothin' else it is for, mavourneen."
Except Jemmy himself, and one of his brothers who was to accompany him
part of the way, none of the family slept. The mother exhibited deep
sorrow, and Dominick, although he made a show of firmness, felt, now
that the crisis was at hand, nearly incapable of parting with the
boy. The conversation of their friends and the cheering effects of the
poteen, enabled them to sustain his loss better than they otherwise
would have done, and the hope of seeing him one day "an ordained
priest," contributed more than either to support them.
When the night was nearly half spent, the mother took a candle and
privately withdrew to the room in which the boy slept. The youth was
fair, and interesting to look upon--the clustering locks of his white
forehead were divided; yet there was on his otherwise open brow, a shade
of sorrow, produced by the coming separation, which even sleep could not
efface. The mother held the candle gently towards his face, shading
it with one hand, lest the light might suddenly awake him; she then
surveyed his features long and affectionately, whilst the tears fell in
showers from her cheeks.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41