the capital, which, the reader will remem- | not announced where that point is to be, ber, lies high up in a gorge of the last exactly. There is doubt in regard to the remnant of the Rocky Mountain range. whole future. Business men are not Thence the road sweeps off to its crossing making any investments in the quaint old of the Rio Grande. Will it pay Santa Fe town, or seconding improvements, while merchants to haul merchandise from the the merchants reduce their stocks to a railway up the long hills to the capital, minimum quantity, and wait to see what which must all be hauled down again next. There are enthusiasts who shout when it is sold at wholesale? Even if, as about the glorious future of the antique projected, a branch railway be built up to town, and croakers who decry past, presthe city from the main line, would not it ent, and to come; but you ask a wise man be better for the heavy merchants to re- what is to be the future of La Villa Real establish their warehouses down at the de Santa Fe, and he smiles suggestively, nearest point on the main line, or at the shrugs his shoulders the least bit, and crossing point of the great river? It is murmurs, Quien sabe?

QUIEN SABE ?

P

AN IRISH FISHING VILLAGE.

tality. Although the broken windows were carefully stuffed with straw, the night winds swept through them as through a sieve, and the brass chimney ornaments grinned with a sickly lustre through the gusts of smoke that swept down its flues. The care-taker, a poor widow-her sad story I will not now stop to relate had three sick children, whose cries returned with interest the miseries of the cheerless abode.

REVIOUS to my departure for the Arran Islands I dismissed Flanigan, and waiting for weather sufficiently propitious for the short though dangerous voyage, I spent a few days in a fishing village at a point on the coast where a small river lost its noisy voice in the great Atlantic. I resided in the lodge of an English gentleman who had passed a salmon season there many years before. Unable to sell, and unwilling to permit it to fall to decay, he had left it in the charge of a I have experienced many discomforts care-taker, who was the most important in my loiterings, but in no place had my person in the village, because she occu- mental and physical surroundings been pied the decentest dwelling in it. Per- so sad as in this wretched village. The haps when in good repair it had been a inhabitants half the time were plunged in pleasant lodge at night for a gentleman the forced idleness of hopeless poverty, content to stand all day long in a chilly and when the weather enabled them to stream in quest of salmon or trout, but fish, enjoyed only a bare sustenance; yet during my brief sojourn I found it very among these elastic and cheerful people I uncomfortable. When the bright sun found much to charm me, and though retempered the air without to a genial pelled and disgusted by the filth and cruwarmth, the damp walls of our dwelling dities of their way of life, I could not lose retained last winter's chill, and made the sight of their true humanity. A very occupants shudder with their cold hospi- | important thing in the appreciation of

Ireland, as well as of any other country | differing so much in aspect from our own, is to bring ourselves into sympathy with the subject before we judge. If we permit the rags and filth and poverty of the

scending from our Raphaelesque ladder, let our sympathies enter those lowly hovels pictured by the Dutchman, where the tenderest chords of our human nature find their echoes, and we will be enraptured

A SUNDAY SCENE.

а

with pictures in which there is not one beautiful woman, not one classic, elegant type of man-nay, not even a pretty baby. Both Raphael and Ostade are good; but we must not seek to admire Ostade from Raphael's point of view. Then, ere we begin to admire or dispraise, we should enter into the spirit of Irish life and scenes. This filthy beggar starting from the doorway of a cabin, like a beast from its cave, presents to our mind a sad contrast with thrifty, clean America; but how much

people to repel us, we will never learn the | rare humanity that lies beneath. With a great deal of difficulty we attune our eyes and hearts and understandings to appreciate a picture of Raphael; we must subjugate our predilections, should they not accord with those of the artist, and unreservedly feel that we are ready to admire, before the beauty and grace of his Virgins and their divine Infants will seize upon us. The longer we look, the more enthusiastic our raptures become, because we are led willingly, with neither doubt nor repug-like Rembrandt's golden-hued old wonance, till, at length, from admiring Raphael, we adore him. Then quickly turn to the pictures of Ostade, and how vulgar and coarse they seem! But, de

men, whose very rags are haloed by that solemn glow of color! One would not like to go too near this squalid creature portrayed by Rembrandt were she alive;

so would one avoid contact with this tat- | counters take place, in one of which, not tered and soiled remnant of humanity long before my arrival, a poor villager who pleads for our sympathy. I did not, had been killed. therefore, greatly care how much I muddied my skirts among these poor villagers, because I learned to laugh and weep with them. Uncared for and forgotten by the world, they seem to have but one earthly hope, America, and one dread, hunger. The village possesses no post-office; there is no magistrate within many miles; and the priest, two leagues distant, serves numerous villages as forlorn as this, and people are born and die without any official note. Many suppose that the parish priest is the most powerful man in the kingdom; and it was a subject of supreme surprise and commiseration when I informed them that the Queen was a widOn Sundays the inhabitants of the

ow.

THE GOSSIPS.

village appear, washed and shaven into a ghastly pallor, in the single street that leads up from the sea, and remain all day long gossiping and fighting, through sunshine and rain, as if these achievements formed a part of their religious duties. Now and then the spoils of a wreck are washed to their shores, and when the coast-guards dispute with them what they consider the bounty of the sea, fierce en

There was scarcely a well-thatched cabin in the village; the floors of most of them were as muddy as the roads, and dotted with little pools of water, which seemed a refreshing feature to the ducks that came in in quest of food. The most sheltered corner of the cabin is devoted to the pig, and the chickens seize upon every coin of vantage for a roost. Nets hang from the rafters, and the equipments of the boats are disposed in whatever dry nooks the habitation boasts of. The warmest spot on the hearth is usurped by the cat, cherished with great care as the protector against their terrible enemies the rats; and beside it an old woman, who did not seem to have changed her clothes

since her youth, coddled the latest born of the household. The village was pervaded with so strong an odor of fish and tar that less agreeable emanations were unnoticed. The dung-heap was zealously guarded by the door-I have seen it, indeed, in the very living-room of the occupants-as the riches that were to prosper their next year's potato crop; and every morning the pig was sent out to walk, with a solicitude for his health not bestowed upon the other members of the family. These people spent threefourths of their time in idling and gossiping. I saw poor haggard old women at the doors of their cabins, or by the village well, who had to crouch like apes to make their rags cover them, so mad for gossip that they forgot their hunger and the rain that soaked them; and day after day old men gathered on the sheltered side of a wall, and talked with as much interest and gravity as if they had never seen each other before, and every recital was an unheard-of marvel. Troops of half-clothed and half-starved children sprawled in the mud, fought among them

selves, or with loud yells crowded about | under such abject circumstances, where some poor ass, inflicting all the torments that their untutored imaginations could suggest, while their mothers, can in hand, whispered, with amazement written on their faces, of all they had heard or seen or dreamed of since yesterday in a village dependent entirely upon itself for its topics of interest.

the meanest comforts of the strong and healthy seemed wanting! I saw by the flickering light, stretched upon a few rags in the corner of the fire-place, an emaciated little figure, muttering in delirium, while the smoke from some wet brambles that were piled in the chimney filled the room, and almost stifled its occupants. The mother cried that the child was dying, and told me that she had been unable to eat or drink; that they had done all they knew how to do, which, indeed, ap

Hither, I learned, the priest came once a year to hear the confessions of the inhabitants. They repair to one of the cabins, where, while the pig, chickens, ducks, and geese are kept in abeyance by the zeal-peared to be very little. I made use of ous host and hostess, the rite is celebrated. Among these people, whose only extravagance seems to be on the score of their religion, he is entertained and requited in a manner quite out of proportion to the means of his entertainers; and when departing, after the manner of the fond mother in the story-book, who whipped her children and put them to bed, he gives them all a sound rating upon their idleness and remissness in their religious observances, and receives in return, "Long life to your reverence," and "Godspeed," from his humble flock.

One night-it was past midnight-I heard repeated knockings at the door below. As I listened, they became more frequent and urgent, and no one being aroused but a dog, which snarled and barked from the hall, I rose, and raised the window to see who demanded admittance at such an hour. In reply to my inquiries, a feeble voice begged for a candle, and added, "My little sister is dying, and we have no light." I dressed hastily, and descended. At the door I found a poor girl so overwhelmed with grief that she was unable to tell me anything of the child's condition, but that she was very ill, and they did not want her to die in the dark. I determined to go home with her to administer assistance and, if possible, comfort, though the sorrows of the poor and their multitudinous miseries make one doubt the power of consolation.

When we arrived at the cabin, which was a few rods distant, the light revealed a scene of distress more pitiable than any I had yet encountered in this land of poverty. In one small room were six people, two pigs, and an ass. There is something in sickness that softens every heart and appeals to the sympathies, even when the sufferer has every comfort that love can suggest; but how sad was it seen

such remedies as I could command. The
family, who stood round helpless through
ignorance and grief, were soon busied un-
der my directions in the preparation of
restoratives. As the household did not
supply sufficient bedclothing to keep the
little sufferer warm, I stripped the mother
of her petticoat, the father of his coat, and
the elder children of such rags as they
could spare, and made a very tolerable
if not a cleanly bed for the patient. Hav-
ing procured some wine and such neces-
sities for the sick as the fishing lodge af-
forded, I directed the mother to the best
of my ability as to the measures to be
taken during the night, and left.
On my
return to my room I wondered whether
these ignorant people would comprehend
the instructions I had given or the neces-
sity of following them. I returned, there-
fore, to the cabin, and found their cries
increased, and an old woman added to
their number, attracted, as old women
in such communities always are, by the
scent of death, as it were, which seems to
afford them a weird delight. This hag,
who was looked upon as an oracle, dep-
recated all my efforts, and declared that
the child was dying, and nothing but the
will of God could save her. I found they
had not administered the wine, because
the child could not drink, and they were
totally ignorant how to apply the mustard
plaster, never having seen or heard of
such a thing. Dipping my finger in the
wine, I dropped it in her mouth as one
would feed a bird, and thus administered,
she partook of it with eagerness and de-
light. When I left the patient she was
in a comparatively easy sleep and profuse
perspiration. I may add that during the
rest of my stay in this village, where, as
in so many others, sickness means death,
the little patient steadily improved. This
incident shows how many often perish

THE POTATO HARVEST.

among these people for want of the knowl- | than their good appetites, carefully preedge of the simplest remedies.

serving the skins, by-the-way, for the pigs.
I observed also that the habit of corner
loafing, which I had supposed to be pecul-
iarly American, flourishes in these remote
regions with wonderful vigor, and is not
characteristic of our country alone. In-
deed, I have travelled for many miles in
Ireland, lamenting its desolation, and I
have been surprised, if not gratified, at
some cross-roads to observe a group of
idlers which reminded me too strongly of
the street corners in our large cities.
tain phases of what is called American
rowdyism, of which this is one, I have fre-
quently recognized in my travels abroad.
I must therefore presume that all our na-
tional vices are not indigenous.

Cer

Poor as the village was, it possessed a dignitary styled a money-lender, who "gave out loan money" at an exorbitant rate of interest. He often came in to drink a cup of my hostess's tea, which was invariably partaken of without thanks, and a contemptuous reference to

When a calm day came and the sea was like a lake, and I might have had a pleasant day's sail to the islands, I was charmed by the bright sun and delicious temperature, however, to defer my departure till the following day. I wandered among the stony hills, whose hard visages were softened in this mild climate with moss, lichen, and fern, till they looked as rich as the plains of Arcady, and watched the long rows of industrious harvesters who were gathering in the potato crop ere the rigor of winter began. Notwithstanding the scarcity of labor, one man is always spared as an overseer, who, motionless himself, incites in no very polite terms the workmen to continued activity. As the potatoes are gathered, they are placed in a large pit covered with dried ferns, and being afterward carefully banked up with earth, remain for winter's use. When the potato harvest is gathered, the field is left for the gleaners, the wretched poor of the village, and the crows, to gather what-its weakness. There are few Irish vilever may have been overlooked by the laborers. Or I watched the men and women, decked in their best apparel, depart for the fair at Clifden, enticing the pigs by every artifice and persuasion to leave the homes so dear to them. Indeed, the fair is to these villagers one of the greatest events in their existence; they bring back a gaudy shawl, and tell for months afterward around the fireside of the wonders and splendors of that beautiful town. Or saw a cottager's family in my morning walk seated at the door enjoying a frugal breakfast, which consisted of a basket of potatoes, hot and steaming from the pot, devoured without any other seasoning

lages which do not possess one or more of these cormorants, who are looked upon with fear and respect by the poor people involved in their toils. This worthy informed me that he knew of the best boat in the neighborhood, owned by an old man whose experience and intelligence were so great that the wildest caprices of the sea were to him as the sports of a child.

"At this time of year, ma'am," he continued-ejecting from a mouth which closed like a vise upon the pipe it held little puffs of smoke, as if he were too mean to send forth a generous volume"the weather is very uncertain, and you