The Wild Irish Girl: A National TaleMorgan, Lady (Sydney)
General
The Wild Irish Girl: A National Tale
Morgan, Lady (Sydney)
British -- Ireland -- Fiction; Celts -- Fiction; Ireland -- Fiction; Love stories; Princesses -- Fiction
The plenteous dinner was composed of every luxury the season afforded;
though only supplied by the demesne of our host and the neighbouring
sea-coast, and though served up in a style of perfect elegance, was yet
so abundant, so over plenteous, that, compared to the compact neatness,
and simple sufficiency of English fare in the same rank of life, it
might have been thought to have been “more than hospitably good.” But to
my surprise, and indeed, not much to my satisfaction, during dinner the
door was left open for the benefit of receiving the combined efforts of
a very indifferent fiddler and a tolerable piper, who, however, seemed
to hold the life and spirits of the family in their keeping. The ladies
left us early after the cloth was removed; and though besides the family
there were three strange gentlemen, and that the table was covered with
excellent wines, yet conversation circulated with much more freedom
than the bottle; every one did as he pleased, and the ease of the guest
seemed the pleasure of the host.
For my part, I rose in less than an hour after the retreat of the
ladies, and followed them to the drawing-room. I found them all
employed; one at the piano, another at her needle-work, a third reading;
mamma at her knitting, and the pretty little duenna copying out music.
They received me as an old acquaintance, and complimented me on my
temperance in so soon retiring from the gentlemen, for which I assured
them they had all the credit. It is certain that the frank and open
ingenuousness of an Irishwoman’s manners, forms a strong contrast to
that placid, but distant reserve which characterises the address of my
own charming countrywomen. For my part, since I have Glorvina, I shall
never again endure that perpetuity of air, look, and address, which
those who mistake formality for good-breeding are apt to assume.
Manners, like the graduated scale of the thermometer, should betray, by
degrees, the expansion or contraction of the feeling, as they are warmed
by emotion or chilled by indifference. They should _breathe_ the soul in
order to _win_ it.
Nothing could be more animated yet more modest than the manners of these
charming girls, nor should I require any stronger proof of that pure
and exquisite chastity of character which, from the earliest period, has
distinguished the women of this country, than that ingenuous candour and
enchanting frankness which accompanies their every look and word.
“The soul as sure to be admired as seen,
Boldly steps forth, nor keeps a thought within.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account