The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 119

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CHAPTER XV.

The women were together in Anna's parlor, and although not one of them, except Rita, knew of the events of the night before, they sat in oppressive silence, for even Maria was wanting in her accustomed loquacity.

"I don't know why," she said at last, "nor what is the matter with me, but my heart to-day feels as though it could not stay in its place."

"It is the same with me," said Elvira, "I cannot breathe freely. I feel as if a stone lay on my heart. Perhaps it is the air. Is it going to rain, Aunt Maria?"

"My poor child," thought Anna, "the remedy comes too late. Earth is calling her body and heaven her soul."

"Well, I feel just as usual," said Rita, who was in reality the one that could hardly sit still for uneasiness.

Angela had made her a rag baby, which she was rocking in a hollow tile by way of cradle, and the painful silence which followed these few words was only broken by the gentle voice of the little girl as she sung, in the sweet and monotonous nursery melody to which some mothers lend such simple enchantment, and such infinite tenderness, these words:

"I hold thee in my arms, And never cease to think.

What would become of thee, my angel, If I should be taken from thee.

The little angels of heaven--"

The childish song was interrupted by a heavy solemn stroke of the church bell. Its vibration died away in the air slowly and gradually, as if mounting to other regions.

"_His Majesty!_" said all, rising to their feet.

Anna prayed aloud for the one who was about to receive the last sacraments.

"For whom can it be?" said Maria. "I do not know of any one that is dangerously sick in the place."

Rita looked out of the window and asked of a woman that was pa.s.sing, who was the sick person?

"I do not know," she answered, "but it is some one out of the village."

Another woman cried as she approached, "Mercy! it is a murder, for the magistrate and the surgeon have followed the priest as fast as they could!"

"G.o.d help him!" they all exclaimed, with that profound and terrible emotion which is excited by those awful words, a murder!

"And who can it be?" asked Rita.

"No one knows," answered the woman.

Then the bell tolled for the pa.s.sing soul; solemn stroke; stroke of awe; voice of the church, which announces to men that a brother is striving in weariness, anguish, and dismay, and is going to appear before the dread tribunal--momentous voice, by which the church says to the restless mult.i.tude, deep in frivolous interests which it deems important, and in fleeting pa.s.sions which it dreams will be eternal: Stand still a moment in respect for death, in consideration of your fellow-being who is about to disappear from the earth, as you will disappear tomorrow.

They remained plunged in silence, but nevertheless deeply moved, as happens sometimes with the sea, when its surface is calm, but its bosom heaves with those deep interior waves which sailors call a ground-swell.

And not they alone. The whole village was in consternation, for death by the hand of violence always appalls, since the curse which G.o.d p.r.o.nounced upon Cain continues, and will continue, in undiminished solemnity throughout all generations.

"How long the time is!" said Maria, at length. "It seems as if the day stood still."

"And as if the sun were nailed in the sky," added Elvira. "Suspense is so painful. Perhaps robbers have done it."

"It may have been unintentional," answered Maria.

"Mamma Anna, who has killed a man, and what made him do it?" asked the little Angela.

"Who can tell," replied Anna, "what is the cause, or whose the daring hand that has antic.i.p.ated that of G.o.d in extinguishing a torch which he lighted."

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At that instant they heard a distant rumor. People moved by curiosity are running through the street, and confused exclamations of astonishment and pity reach their ears.

"What is it?" asked Rita, approaching the window.

"They are bringing the dead man this way," was the answer.

Elvira felt herself irresistibly impelled to look out.

"Come away, Elvira," said her mother, "you know that you cannot bear the sight of a corpse."

Elvira did not hear her, for the crowd, that drawn by curiosity, sympathy, or friendship, had surrounded the body and its attendants, was coming near. Anna and Maria, also placed themselves at the grating. The corpse approached, lying across a horse and covered with a sheet. An old man follows it, supported by two persons. His head is bowed upon his breast. They look at him--merciful G.o.d! it is Pedro!

and they utter a simultaneous cry.

Pedro hears it, lifts his head and sees Rita. Despair and indignation give him strength. He frees himself violently from the arms that sustain him, and precipitates himself toward the horse, exclaiming: "Look at your work, heartless woman! Perico killed him." Saying this, he lifts the sheet and exposes the body of Ventura, pale, b.l.o.o.d.y, and with a deep wound in the breast.

From the Dublin University Magazine.

IRISH FOLK BOOKS OF THE LAST CENTURY.

In the eighteenth century Ireland did not possess the boon of Commissioners to prepare useful and interesting school books. However, as the ma.s.s of the peasantry wished to give their children the only education they could command, namely, that afforded by the hedge schools, and as young and old liked reading stories and popular histories, or at least hearing them read, some Dublin, Cork, and Limerick printers a.s.sumed the duties neglected by senators, and published "Primers," "Reading-made-easie's," "Child's-new-play-thing,"

and the widely diffused "Universal Spelling Book" of the magisterial Daniel Fenning, for mere educational purposes. These were "adorned with cuts," but the transition from stage to stage was too abrupt, and the concluding portions of the early books were as difficult as that of the "Universal Spelling Book" itself, which the author, in order to render it less practically useful, had enc.u.mbered with a dry and difficult grammar placed in the centre of the volume.

Two Dublin publishers, Pat. Wogan, of Merchants' quay, and William Jones, 75 Thomas street, were the educational and miscellaneous Alduses of the day, and considered themselves as lights burning in a dark place for the literary guidance of their countrymen and countrywomen, of the shop-keeping, farmer, and peasant cla.s.ses. In the frontispiece of some editions of the spelling-book grew the tree of knowledge, laden with fruit, each marked with some letter, and ardent climbers plucking away. Beneath was placed this inscription:

"The tree of knowledge here you see.

The fruit of which is A, B, C.

But if you neglect it like idle drones, You'll not be respected by William Jones."

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That portion of the work containing "spells" and explanations was thoroughly studied by the pupils. The long cla.s.s was arranged in line in the evening, every one contributed a bra.s.s pin, and the boy or girl found best in the lesson, and most successful at the hard "spells"

given him or her by the others, and most adroit in defeating them at the same exercise, got all the pins except two, the portion of the second in rank, (_the queen_,) and one, the perquisite of the third, (_the prince_.)

Every neighborhood was searched carefully for any stray copies of Entick's or Sheridan's small square dictionaries, (p.r.o.nounced _Dixhenry's_ by the eager students,) for hard spells and difficult explanations to aid them in their evening tournaments.

The grave Mr. Fenning was censuruble for admitting into some editions the following jest (probably imported from Joe Miller) among his edifying fables and narratives:

"A gay young fellow once asked a parson for a guinea, but was stiffly refused. 'Then,' said he, give me at least a crown.' 'I will not give thee a farthing,' answered the clergyman. 'Well, father,' said the rake, 'let me have your blessing at all events.'