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Updated: June 23, 2025
The story which recurred to my mind was of a poor Irishman, who, in describing a visit which he paid to the home of his childhood after a long absence, said: "At the sober hour of twilight, I entered the lonely and desarted home uv me forefathers, an' as I gazed about the silent walls, I said, 'me fathers, where are they? an' did not echo answer, 'Is that you Pathrick O'Flannigan, sure?"
He rested his musket against the stones, drew himself up, and viewed the prospect. "Holy Saint Pathrick! look at them sthramin' off into space! An' look at the mile of wagons they're afther lavin! Refrishmint in thim, my frind, for body and sowl!" Steve pulled himself up beside the other. "Thar ain't any danger now of stray bullets, I reckon? There's something awful in seeing a road like that.
"Pathrick John, miss Pathrick afther the saint, an' John afther the father." A confused sense of having heard that sentence before came over me. "Why, Mrs. Godfrey," I said, "was not that the name of your last child?" "To be shure, miss. Why would I be trating one betther than the other?"
Pathrick still wid the cross look on him p'intin' to the shamrock in his hand, as much as to say 'There is but the wan God in three divine Persons an' Him ye must obey. So then I took to baitin' me breast an' sayin' 'The will o' God be done! an' if ye'll believe me, Sisther, the next time I took heart to look at St. Pathrick there he was smilin' for all the world the moral o' poor Barney.
Even as I remembered him in the days of his pride at the door of the Greek classroom, Pathrick had always possessed the shut mouth, the watery, appealing eye, and the indicative thumb which answered the question of a novice only with a quick jerk in the requisite direction. I think Pathrick sometimes conceived dark suspicions that I had changed Irma in the intervals of his visits.
His pale blue eyes were fixed in his head, and he chewed steadily at lozenges of peppermint or cinnamon to hide the perfume of the glass of "enlivener" with which his wife had bribed him as an argument for submitting to get up and be dressed. It was only on such show occasions that Mrs. McGrier was voluble. And that, solely, because "Pathrick" said nothing.
Suddenly there was a louder hurrah, a quick scurrying rush, a loud shout of command in Spanish for every man to save himself, an outcry of terrified ejaculations in the same tongue, a quick succession of splashes in the water alongside, and a sudden silence, broken the next instant by a gasping but triumphant shout from Ryan of "Hurroo, bhoys! By the blessed Saint Pathrick but that's nately done!
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