The Irish people have light hearts and merry tongues and loving words, and these helped them bear the hunger in the great famine. In thousands of Irish cottages it was pet names every other minute. When things were at their very worst fairy god-mothers flew over the sea by thousands. They were letters. In every letter was money. The money was sent by uncles and aunts and cousins, and big brothers and sisters, who had gone to America long before. All these letters said: "Use this money to come to America where there is plenty to eat." Why, that money was like the magic wand that turned Cin-der-ella into a princess. It bought new clothes and shoes; put roses into pale cheeks. It paid for a grand journey on the sea, and set them all down, right side up, in a new home in America.
The only tool the farmer needed was his potato spade. We were digging canals and building railroads then, in America, and any man who could use a spade could earn money. The Irishman was such a good worker, and so quick to learn new ways, that he was soon "boss" of the other men. The children were sent to school. Tommie became a lawyer, Pat the Mayor of the city and Larry a soldier. The Irish people always got up in the world when they came to America. In Ireland they had no chance.
Kathleen was a school teacher and all the children loved her. It was like Mary's little lamb. Kathleen loved the children, and she told them so. Do you know the good Puritans thought it wrong to love people too much—as if you could! And pioneer life was so hard it often made people hard, too. Wasn't that too bad? So, by and by, we forgot how to tell people that we loved them. Then the Irish people came over and showed us how. They scattered jokes and loving words around as free as sunshine.
Kathleen was a darling of a teacher. She had violet-blue eyes with smiles in them. She had red-brown curling hair, a merry laugh and golden freckles on her nose. When she wanted a child to do anything she'd say "Jimmie-dear" just as if it was all one word, or "Pet Marjorie" or "Honey Bee." The children just flew to do things for Miss Kathleen. Other people began to find out that they had loving words, packed away in their hearts and getting rusty. They took them out and polished them and used them every day. No matter how many they used they had just as many left. You see it was like the milk in the mi-rac-u-lous pitcher.
Wasn't that a nice thing to bring to America? See Ireland. page 936.
