Was it thy prayer, or but the thought of thee,
That sentenced chieftain rescued and restored?
A Glimpse of the Green Isle. II.
After mature reflection, the Lady from Idaho pronounced the Dublin ladies the most beautiful in Europe. I consider the judgment an important one. If the fair arbiter had any prejudice, it could only be a general one against the recognition of beauty in others of her sex. I have been informed by young gentlemen of my acquaintance who profess a thorough knowledge of womankind that such a prejudice is not unusual in feminine minds. I think Madame Idaho was rather astonished at the result of her observations. It is possible that, before her visit to Ireland, she supposed that feminine beauty in Ireland offered only one style: that of the robustious or “Irish washerwoman” type. She did not say so, however. While I agreed with her, in general, in her estimate of the Dublin beauties, I ventured to ask if their lovely feet were not a trifle too flat and too large for perfect symmetry.
“Not at all,” was the reply. “It is the horrid, clumsy, broad-toed English chaussure that makes the ladies' feet look so broad and flat. If they wore American brodequins, their feet would look as small, in proportion, as—ahem!—as those of any other nation.”
No more on those feet.
Of the various manifestations of Irish beauty, the most engaging is the union of black or dark-brown hair with soft blue eyes, a skin with the whiteness of milk, and cheeks with the bloom of the rose. It is inexpressibly soft and attractive. And that wonderful blush that decks the cheek of youth and age! Is it the soft moisture of the climate which makes the grass so green, even in the winter of the year, that causes the cheek to bloom so rosily, even in the winter of old age?
A magnificent jeunesse of the sterner sex may also be seen on promenade in Grafton Street every afternoon. Bright, intelligent-looking, of splendid physique, well dressed, not “flashy,” the students of the university and the other colleges—the picked youth of the country—are not inferior in appearance to any class of young men in the great educational institutions either at home or abroad. They have an amiable weakness for light-colored Jouvins and single eye-glasses. You shall not find two out of twenty unprovided with a glazing for the left eye. They are armed with canes—for use as well as ornament. I witnessed a “Town and Gown” row in January of 187-, in which the canes did vigorous service. A little snow had fallen. Snow is a very precious thing in Ireland. It does not last long, and must be used at once. The foolish janitors had swept the snow into little heaps. This was temptation too strong for undergraduates. Snow-balling commenced. The young gentlemen paid their compliments to the town through the railings of College Green. The unwashed young gentlemen [pg 527] of the town replied vigorously. The fun grew fast and furious. In the delightful excitement of the moment some of the students, not having the fear of the board before their eyes, paid their compliments to some of the dons, who happened to cross the outer quadrangle in cap and gown, with snowballs of no contemptible solidity. The excitement increased. The gownsmen went outside the college grounds, and charged on the town ragabrashes who were collected outside. The police intervened in the interest of order, and were attacked by both parties. The policeman is the natural enemy of the student as well as of the ragabrash. The police proceeded to make some arrests among the leaders of the gownsmen, and began brandishing their clubs. Snowballs were thrown aside, and canes were used. It was a sight to see the canes go up and down. The gownsmen succeed in rescuing the prisoners from the police, and retire within the walls, taking a captive policeman with them, and cheering in triumph. The police invade the college precincts, and rush to the rescue of their captured comrade. They are driven out, and the victorious students follow them into the street. The police suddenly turn on their pursuers, seize one of the college leaders, and, by a pretty piece of strategy, lift him on an outside car, and drive off with him at full speed to the nearest police station. Rescue was out of the question, the coup was executed so quickly. Everybody rushes after the car, and the green is deserted.
“Et le combat cessa faute de combattants.”