Garret MacEniry (9), A Tale of the Munster Peasantry

It is not our intention to follow Garret through all the incidents of his long and weary journey from the home of his heart. In the evening of the fourth day he found himself approaching the townland where he hoped to find his brother. The country lay along the foot of an extensive range of mountains and was rather thinly populated, but here and there a few comfortable-looking farmers' houses lay scattered at wide intervals. There was one of these that stood a few perches in from the road that presented the appearance of both wealth and comfort. A haggard behind the house, hedged in with whitethorn, was well stocked with newly made stacks of corn, surrounding an enormous hayrick; and in front a large bawn field of several acres extended, through which a pathway led into the house. Into this field the cows were just after being driven to be milked; and it was pleasant to hear the busy sounds that proceeded from the place where all were collected. It was a beautiful evening in autumn—one of those that so often occur at that season, daring a long continuance of dry weather—clear, serene and silent. The sky was covered all over with a uniform veil of small mottled clouds, perfectly motionless, and spread out at a great height, leaving the lower part of the atmosphere so clear that the outlines and features of the most distant hills appeared with perfect distinctness.

Almost the whole family had retired to the field. The girls were busily engaged in milking—each her favourite cow—and one or two of them were singing their milking songs; "the boys"—viz., the servant man and the farmer's two eldest sons—were occupied in preserving order and distributing fresh cut clover among the numerous herd; the children were playing "highgates" at a little distance; and the farmer himself, a healthy comfortable-looking old man with a face full of contentment and good-nature, walked among them, his left hand in his breeches pocket and a stick in his right, occasionally giving directions, and gazing with placid enjoyment on the busy scene. At this moment their attention was directed to an old man who had just crossed over the stile that led from the road into the field, and who now approached them. His shoes were covered with dust, and he was evidently very tired, for he came on slowly and with difficulty; and though he endeavoured to yield as little as possible, he was obliged to halt slightly and lean on his stick for support at every step. His hair was white, and his face wrinkled with age, and he looked worn and dejected. He was accompanied by a large old dog who appeared as weary and spiritless as his master, for he hung his ears and tail, and scarcely raising his head, he trudged along close behind him.