The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume ThreeCarleton, William
General
The Station; The Party Fight And Funeral; The Lough Derg Pilgrim: Traits And Stories Of The Irish Peasantry, The Works of; William Carleton, Volume Three
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
The dew hung shining upon the leaves, and fell in pattering showers
from the trees, as a bird, alarmed at my approach, would spring from the
branch and leave it vibrating in the air behind her; the early challenge
of the cock grouse, and the _quick-go-quick_ of the quail, were
cheerfully uttered on all sides. The rapid martins twittered with
peculiar glee, or, in the light caprice of their mirth, placed
themselves for a moment upon the edge of a scaur, or earthly precipice,
in which their nests were built, and then shot up again to mingle with
the careering and joyful flock that cut the air in every direction.
Where is the heart which could not enjoy such a morning scene? Under any
other circumstances it would have enchanted me; but here, in fact,
that intensity of spirit which is necessary to the due contemplation of
beautiful prospects, was transferred to a gloomier object. I was under
the influence of a feeling quite new to me. It was not pleasure, nor was
it pain, but a chilliness of soul which proceeded from the gloomy and
severe task that I had undertaken--a task which, when I considered the
danger and the advantages annexed to its performance, was sufficient to
abstract me from every other object. It was really the first exercise
of that jealous spirit of mistaken devotion which keeps the soul in
perpetual sickness, and invests the innocent enjoyments of life with
a character of sin and severity. It was this gloomy feeling that could
alone have strangled in their birth those sensations which the wisdom
of God has given as a security in some degree against sin, by opening
to the heart of man sources of pleasure, for which the soul is not
compelled to barter away her innocence, as in those of a grosser nature.
I may be wrong in analyzing the sensation, but for the first time in my
life I felt anxious and unhappy; yet, according to my own opinions, I
should have been otherwise. I was startled at what I experienced, and
began to consider it as a secret intimation that I had chosen a wrong
time for my journey. I even felt as if it would not prosper--as if some
accident or misfortune would befall me ere my return. The boat might
sink, as in 1796: this was quite alarming. The miraculous experiment
on the pond here occurred to me with full force, and came before my
imagination in a new point of view. The drenching I got had a deep
and fearful meaning. It was ominous--it was prophetic,--and sent by a
merciful Providence to deter me from attending the pilgrimage at this
peculiar time--perhaps on this particular day: to-morrow the spell might
be broken, the danger past, and the difference of a single day could be
nothing. Just at this moment an unlucky hare, starting from an adjoining
thicket, scudded across my path, as if to fill up the measure of these
ominous predictions. I paused, and my foot was on the very turn to the
rightabout, when instantly a thought struck me which produced a reaction
in my imagination.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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