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The electronic version of this text has been created as a part of the "Publishing in Irish America : 1820-1922" project that is being undertaken by the CUNY Institute for Irish- American Studies. Project : Publishing in IA Date Created: 6/16/06 Object ID: 000000098 Object Name: Norah of Waterford Author : Rosa Mulholland Date Published : 1915 Publisher: PJ . Kenedy & Sons: New York Donor: Gerrv Lee . ; . ' 11l ~ h ~ 1 1 Vi W 1~l, ~. .l-s~ l ~ ~.~~i! ~c~l ;;- t ------- ----- .r;r_ ._ ___ -- ._______w._. _..__. :-~.,.-._ ._. ~._~_~__.__..__~_._r._- . ._~__ ._.~_~a __~~~.__ ._ ____w . _ - _ _ _ _- .. NORAR OF WATERFORD BY ROSA MULHOLLAND LADY GILBERT) AUTHOR OF "T1IF WILD BIRDS OF KILFEVS'," "FATHER TIM," °° TILE TRAGEDY OF CHRIS," ETC. I'. J. KENEDY t7 SONS NFN%" 44 BARCLAY STREET, YORK iytg This book was originally tublished under the title of "ONORA," CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE 1. EVICTION II . THE AHERNES ZO III. "YOU LET THAT GIRL ALONE ! " 21 IV . °° 1 DO RIOT WANT YOU " 25 V. A LITTLE POET BOCCAGH 31 VI . FELLOW-TRAVELLERS 37 VII . THE GOMBEEN MAN . 41 VIII . THE MESSAGE DELIVERED 46 IX . SABINA DOOLAN 61 X . A SOCIAL EVENING . 71 XI . COW IN THE MARSH 113 XII. JOE THREATENED 122 XIII . "PUT HER OUT OF YOUR HEAD, MY SON " 128 XIV. TURNED OUT 137 XV. MRS NEARY TO THE RESCUE 14() XVI . SABINA IS BROUGHT TO THE POINT IC)O iii iv CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGH XVII. WITHIN THE HUTS 167 XVIII . "WON'T IT BE FINE TO BE WITHOUT THE CRUTCH" 174 XIX . JOE MAKES A FIGHT 179 XX . "TAKE OFF YOUR COAT!" 192 XXI . "GOD HELP IRELAND!" . 218 XXII . "HAVEN'T I STRUV TO EARN IT!" 230 XXIII . SABINA PAYS HER DEBT 240 XXIV. AND THERE THEY ARE STILL 247 CHAPTER I EVICTION " OTHER! " M " I'm here." " Are you awake ? " "Awake, is it? Was I asleep, you mean . Oh, then, I slept the last o' my sleep in the old house a good many nights ago, avoureen ." " It's the eviction mornin', mother." " Put on your clothes, dear, an' get the childher together. And the will of the Almighty God be done ! " " When d'ye think they will be here ? " " As soon as they can put the road behind them. Call Declan ! That boy will have po'try wrote out on it all before he lies down in the but to-night a homeless creature. Make us a mouth- ful of breakfast, Norah, and get your father to come in . He's been ramblin' about the yard since two o'clock this momin'." This dialogue took place in the dark of a November morning within a small farmhouse in the County of Cork. Norah, the girl who had called her mother, was soon revealed by the blaze she kindled on the hearth. The breakfast of A 2 NORAH OF `VATERFORD porridge was ready, and four hungry little fair- haired girls and a slender lame boy gathered round the table eating. The father of the family came in and joined them. Last of all the mother appeared and took the youngest child on her knee. All ate silently in the firelight, while the rain hissed outside and spat down the chimney into the flames. " Mother," whimpered little Patsie, " don't go to-day. It's too could and wet. Why can't we stay at home ? " " Why ? " said the father, grimly, " there's them on the roads from Youghal this minute that's comin' to show us why we can't." " He's too young to undherstand," said the mother. " Why, Patsie, we're goin' to live in a beautiful wooden house," said Norah ; " not like the poor Morans that had to take the road last year and march away with themselves nowhere." Patsie knew by the looks rather than the words of his father and mother that something was terribly wrong, and he kept sobbing and crying. " I'd rather stay at home, so I would . I don't like goin' out in the rain ." " Ate your breakfast, alanna, and hold your tongue," said the mother, helping him to the last spoonful of porridge. And then they all rose up, and the father went out of the house without a word. The November daylight broke over the country- NORAH OF WATERFORD 3 side, and showed the pathetic features of the Irish landscape, the brown and green fields soaked in grey mist, the long streaks of moor and swamp, the clusterings of low trees, which had now shed almost all their leaves, and showed only a red or yellow patch of foliage to make their melan- choly nakedness more noticeable . Here and there stood the little farmsteads. Over at one side they had still a look of life, nestling among their cocks of hay and straw, but down yonder they were only the corpses of homes, chimneys without smoke, windows mere staring sockets, no cosy thatched hillocks of yellow fodder guarding them round, occasionally a broken gable or roof- everything suggestive of ruin and desolation. Suited to the condition of the habitations was the aspect of the fields lying about them, with weeds waving high between green bank and bank ; no cattle, no labourers, no ploughing-a desert, de- populated and forsaken . John Fitzgerald wandered about the little farm- yard in the rain, surveying the emptiness of the sheds that had long sheltered his straw, his wheat, his cattle. Standing there with the rain raining down on him he told himself that his place was to know him no more for ever. Or was there any hope ? The Organisation had engaged to feed and shelter him and his children till the good time supposed to be coming might enable them to return to the little farm on which he had struggled to pay and live. That way he saw a little gleam 4 NORAH OF WATERFORD of light. Meanwhile there was nothing but the roadside, with the children by the hand, after the last beast had been sold to make up the rent. Daylight discovered on the road many little carts filled with neighbours from miles off coming to witness the eviction, and to stand by the evicted in their trouble. Groups began to form in the farmyard, men talked and gesticulated, women spoke low and shook their heads, children climbed the banks to look out for the evicting party. A few women friends went into the house and helped to tie up the beds and make the immediate pre- parations for flitting. A cry from the children on the lookout an- nounced that the evictors were coming, and very soon the cavalcade arrived, a body of soldiers on foot, a number of police on cars, in all a force of about a hundred men . On the two foremost cars were seated the officers, military and constabulary, who, as the cars stopped in front of the house, drew their cloaks around their knees, and lit their cigars, and smoked and chatted together, while the sheriff and his men entered the homestead and began the work of turning out the inhabitants . Fitzgerald and his friends came round from the yard and stood by the door watching the proceedings of the evictors. " I built it myself, every stone of it," said Fitz- gerald, as the sheriff passed in, but no other remark was audible. Profound silence reigned ; NORAH OF WATERFORD 5 nothing was heard but a sob from within as water was thrown on the hearthstone and the fire was quenched. One after another the articles of household furniture were carried out and deposited on the ground. The beds tied up in the bedclothes were flung on the wet grass, pots and pans lay about the yard, a chair here, a table there, a chest of drawers yonder. Nobody made any resist- ance . The Fitzgeralds had resolved to go out quietly. After the evicting party had retired friends gathered round the Fitzgeralds . The furniture, and all the little household gods were packed into the neighbours' carts, which began to file away along the rainy roads in the direction of the wooden huts provided for shelter of an evicted population. The houseless mother and children were taken into the cart of Mrs Aherne, an old friend of Mrs Fitzgerald . The long wet ride was endured without grumb- ling. An occasional sigh, or grim joke, or short laugh, was the only expression from the travellers till they reached a double row of wooden houses standing on a high level of land on the outskirts of the evicting estate . The place had a forsaken look. The men were all absent, having sought labour elsewhere. Children played at the doors, cocks and hens strutted as in an ordinary village, but all had an 6 NORAH OF WATERFORD accidental air, without the comfortable audacity of a gipsy encampment, or the breezy momentari- ness of double rows of bathing-boxes . Women's faces appeared in some of the door- ways, and a few came out to welcome the new- comers ; but without the smiles and cheer that Irish greeting seldom lacks. The furniture was carried by many hands into the vacant but awaiting the homeless, and after this, with plenti- ful good-byes and good wishes, the owners of the carts packed themselves into them again, and left the Fitzgeralds to their altered circumstances . Only Mrs Aherne lingered behind to spend a few hours with her friend. New wooden walls have a cheerful colour, and the interior of the but looked for the moment pleasant enough .