Transcribed from the 19th Century Religious Tract Societyedition ,
No. 187.
THE
IRISH PEASANT;
OR
THE HISTORY OF PETER LACY,
AND HIS WIFESUSAN
LONDON:
Printed for
THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY,
Instituted 1799
AND SOLD AT THEIR DEPOSITORY, 56,PATERNOSTER-ROW;
BY J. NISBET, 21, BERNERS-STREET,OXFORD-STREET; AND
BY OTHER BOOKSELLERS.
p. 2CHAP.I.
It was on a dull, cold evening thatPeter Lacy, a poor labourer, having finished the clump of turfwhich he had engaged to do, put on his ragged coat, and walked upto the door of his employer to receive his wages. “Ihave no silver at present,” said the gentleman, “butcome next Monday, and you shall be paid.”
It was three miles to his home, and, on his way, he passed thecabin of a poor man whom he knew very well. There was alittle garden before it, and every thing looked clean anddecent. It was true the family who lived there were verypoor, and met with many crosses; but, let what would happen,Michael Connor and his wife were always cheerful, and were neverheard to complain, because they were sure that nothing happens bychance, having read in the Bible, that not even a sparrow fallethto the ground without the knowledge of God.
“There now,” said Lacy to himself,“there’s the comfort of a quiet wife! MaryConnor is always good tempered and mild; while my Susan is formaking bad worse, by her crying and scolding at everyhand’s turn. A dry morsel with a quiet house, isbetter than plenty of provision with grumbling.” Lacydid not know that Solomon had said nearly the same: for Lacynever read the Bible; and as for going to prayers, he left it tothose who had a better coat than his to put on.
“Well neighbour,” said Connor, “how does theworld jog with you?”
“It’s all on three legs,” said Lacy,“for ’tis money makes the mare to go, and money Ihave none.”
“I wish I could help you,” said Connor, “butI got my week’s wages yesterday, and lent them to Wilson,whose wife is sick in bed: he was to pay me to-day, but went homewithout thinking of it; however, walk in and restyourself.”
p. 3Marywelcomed her husband with smiles, and had made the room very neatagainst his return. The table was scoured as clean as sandand water could make it; the hearth was nicely swept, and thedinner was over the fire.
“Come sit down,” said the good-natured Connor,“eat an egg, and Mary shall put a bit of bacon on thegridiron that we bought the other day.” “No,no,” replied Lacy, “keep it for your dinnerto-morrow, you will have but a poor meal at best.”
Mary understood what he meant: she hung down her head for aminute; but then looking