Irish News OUR IRISH LETTER

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 2, 28 February 1907, Page 27

Irish News OUR IRISH LETTER

(From oux own correspondent.)

Dublin, January, 1807.

What truth there is in all our sayings ! Our win- * ter, up to Christmas, was so mild that summer costumes were everywhere to be seen, not only on young shoulders not crowned by wise heads, but on mature boys and girls of an age one would suppose to- " be endowed with some prudence. Still, everyone remarked the unusual quantities of red ..berries to be seen,,, especially on the holly, s a sign of a hard winter, and, sure enoiighi, after Christmas there suddenly came snow storms such as are rarely seen in a generation in this temperate climate. And with" snow wreaths " came cruel suffering for. man and beast. In midland, - western and northern country districts, the drifts lay high, and news has come oi deaths froro/cold and 'exposure, and heavy losses to farmers whose flocks got caught in mountain hollows. \ The Sufferings of the Poor. Yet I doubt if the worst sufferings our poor have to endure in ' the country can in any way compare with the miseries of poverty in a city. Poverty in the country pinches and grinds, and is hard to bear, but the very poorest, most tumble-down x cabin by roadside or bog is no,t .to be compared in misery with the loathsome garrets or cellars of the poorest class in large towns, where the inhabitants are mostly strangers to each other ; where a breath of pure air never blows, spring, summer, autumn, or winter ; where - loneliness adds its sting so often to eviery other ill, or where there is company compared to which the loneliness of S~ desert would be preferable. Away out in the country the poor 'have, at all events, pure air on every side, pure companionship, kind neighbors who will share the last meal and the last sod of turf ; who will all do their best for each other, will even beg for each other when all else fails. And then, when the snow and , frost melt away the sun shines out over God's own country ? 'Oh ! no : then poverty, looking .out over moor and meadow, hill and dale, river and rill and blue sky, is almost as far removed from the same .lack of riches in the squalid city slum as is Heaven from earth. Christmas, the Christmas of the poor, reminds us of the extraordinary amount of charity done in our little metropolis. You could not realise all tihait is then -done by busy hands and kind hearts td help the city neighbor in that season of holy charity when all who are blest with even a moderate share of worldly wealth invariably recollect that * 'tis time to remember the poor,' as the old song^ says. The charity dispensed is enor.maus and far - reaching, but still, it cannot give to all, can, at best, but give a brief pleasure, must leave thousands untouched, alone, cold and starving within a stone's throw of plenty. A Charitable Institution. In one of the poorest districts of- Dublin, the Sisters of Mercy preside over a Night Refuge for utterly destitute women and children. A refuge to which hundreds, who have not even, the price of a lodging, go nightly lor food, warmth, and shelter. . A good character and -utter destitution are the only recommendations necessary to - gain admittance each night to this home of the .homeless, arid strange _is the medley that is seen around that fireside and that supper table ~in Brickfield Lane. Not a romantic, not even a sympathetic-sounding name is Brickfield Lane,, yet what tragic stories lie in the hearts of those shivering guests, what sorrows are nightly sobbed out on those humble pillows ! There is scarce a misery in all the world that appeals to us more than the woe of a -poor woman, 'a little child, wandering aimlessly about the cold, s>tormswept streets at night/ not a spot to turn to, a hand to hold, a word from., any mortal to lighten the terrors of dark, desolate night. That there are many in this plight, the weekly record of the Night Refuge shows. This record is published weekly, in a quiet, business-like way, by the Sisters of Mercy, and is as eloquent an appeal to the charitable as any thrilling address from the most-gift-

_ed oratory governesses, (so. many), ladies without fixed occupation (so -many), dressmakers (so . many), seam- ' stresses', servants, charwomen, children ; a ,big "total '. every - week, and , all received each evening, fed, • warmed, allowed a" social' chat; '^vKere hearts -< are .not •too heavy, given* a'^warm,* clean -bed and;, if, funds allow, breakfast in the morning before ' setting out ; i- : once more on the weary search for something to dor*-" - Christmas, then,- is;. duly celebrated with warm.love in the" Night Refuge;, a day refuge, too, on that;,occasion, and* it -is a" very touching -'thing to the delicate gratitude with which these poor- women, the- very poorest of the poor, do all in their "power to be joyous that their kind hosts may feel that they are not working for the thankless, each one striving to forget' that to-morrow there may be no food and no warmth from the hour they • leave that shelter in the morning until the- gates open again at night. Truly, there must be a special blessing sent down from Heaven to every citizen , of Dublin who, spares even a little help for the guests at .the, Night Refuge, Brickfield Lane. Our Climate. - Ours is a curious climate. Summer flowers linger with us so fondly and flower culture is such a general taste that now, at> Christmas, even while we keep to ' the use of the time-honored holly-and ivy, we also h&f/e eiapli year an ever-;increasingi .profusion of bome-grojwn natural flowers for houses; and church^. The -hideous artificial bouquets . have disappeared, and true taste, is - becoming a marked feature of church decoration, the prevailing adornment around the altars being palms, smilax, delicate ferns, and 'quantities of pure white blossoms— the most fitting of all. I have often read of. your summer Christmas at the Antipodes, in the midst of warmth and flowers. Here, so lar north, I had from my own sea-side garden on Christmas Day bouquets of scarlet geranium, jessamin, white chrysanthemums, laurestine, and trailers of passion flower. Not bad for a country as far north as St. Petersburg, yet where there is really very " little winter weather " such as _is known even across the channel. s Expectations Not Realised. Charles Dickens wrote a novel called ' Great Ex- _ pectations.' We, in Ireland, are for ever beginning our new years with ■ great "^expectations seldom realised. Were not hope a virtue, 1 should say we" are an absurdly hopeful people, ever meeting with disappointments in the fading away of the charming political rainbows, .so often painted for^ us on the political sky. The new year of 1906 btaught a fresh rainbow in the shape of a new and "professedly Home Rule Chief Secretary, Mr. Bryce, and up went hope once more. Mr. Bryce has, in one short year, accepted office elsewhere, and it would take a powerful magnifying glass to see what has really resulted from the year's work for Ireland's Ireland. His graceful farewell to- the country was a lecture delivered by him (as a hearty Home Ruler), in the rooms of the National Literary Society, on the Danes ! A very salt' subject, seeing that the Danes have, been dead and gone in Ireland these many centuries. We are told that Mr. Bryce^s intentions^ were • good. - Meanwhile, we still have Commissions, Commissions, Commissions on all subjects ; otherwise not much change, if any, has been made towards giving a , trial to Irish . ideas in Ireland although, if we . are to believe our Protestant- neighbors, alProtestant cannot now get atiy situation whatever in the country. This is the cry now, steadily repeated since • competitive examinations have thrown open a few of the smallest, the very smallest, posts to Catholics, in face of the undeniable fact that still the loaves and fishes are in the hands of the minority and that, in truth, no matter what" is done to advance the education of Catholic youth, very few posts worth having can be obtained by them while the ever-increasing amalgamation of trades in' large houses owned by public companies makes it yearly more difficult for a man to start in or become prosperous in business, in Dublin, especially. ' M.B. '