The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 44, May 1, 1841 — John Shaqi
The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 44, May 1, 1841Various
History
The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 44, May 1, 1841
Various
Ireland -- Periodicals
When we were leaving the ship, I saw him, to my great surprise, crying
bitterly; and upon inquiring what was the matter, he answered that it
was not for himself, but for his two sons, he was grieving; because
they were to be made _redemption men_; that is, they were to be bound
to work, during a certain time, for the captain, or for whomsoever he
pleased, till the money due for their passage should be paid. Although I
was somewhat surprised at any one’s thinking of coming on board a vessel
without having one farthing in his pocket, yet I could not forbear paying
the money for this poor fellow. He dropped down on the deck upon both
his knees, as suddenly as if he had been shot, and holding up his hands
to heaven, prayed, first in Irish, and then in English, with fervent
fluency, that “I and mine might never want; that I might live long to
reign over him; that success might attend my honour wherever I went; and
that I might enjoy for evermore all sorts of blessings and crowns of
glory.” As I had an English prejudice in favour of silent gratitude, I
was rather disgusted by all this eloquence; I turned away abruptly, and
got into the boat which waited to carry me to shore.
* * * * *
I had now passed three years in Philadelphia, and was not a farthing
the richer, but, alas, a great deal poorer. My inveterate habit of
procrastination--of delaying every thing till TO-MORROW, always stood
betwixt me and prosperity. I at last resolved upon leaving the land of
the star-spangled banner; but when I came to reckon up my resources, I
found that I could not do so, unless I disposed of my watch and my wife’s
trinkets. I was not accustomed to such things, and I was ashamed to go
to the pawnbroker’s, lest I should be met and recognised by some of my
friends. I wrapped myself up in an old surtout, and slouched my hat over
my face. As I was crossing the quay, I met a party of gentlemen walking
arm in arm. I squeezed past them, but one stopped and looked after me;
and though I turned down another street to escape him, he dodged me
unperceived. Just as I came out of the pawnbroker’s shop, I saw him
posted opposite me; I brushed by; I could with pleasure have knocked him
down for his impertinence. By the time that I had reached the corner of
the street, I heard a child calling after me; I stopped, and a little
boy put into my hand my watch, saying, “Sir, the gentleman says you left
your watch and these thingumbobs by mistake.”
“What gentleman?”
“I don’t know, but he was one that said I looked like an honest chap,
and he’d trust me to run and give you the watch. He is dressed in a blue
coat, and went towards the quay. That’s all I know.”
On opening the paper of trinkets, I found a card with these
words:--“_Barny_--with kind thanks.”
“Barny! poor Barny! An Irishman whose passage I paid coming to America
three years ago. Is it possible?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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