THE SHAMROCK. 43 



intelligence, that this beloved object had been 

 snatched away, by a sudden and violent death. 

 The shock, the grief, that preyed upon the boy's 

 affectionate heart, while witnessing what I endured, 

 proved too much for him, and led to the lingering 

 decline which, after years of suffering, terminated 

 his mortal existence. 



It was some months after my family bereavement, 

 that, on the dawn of Patrick's day, I summoned 

 Jack to sally forth, and gather shamrocks. To 

 my surprise, he declined putting one in his hat ; and 

 when I rallied, remonstrated, and at last almost 

 scolded him, he only repeated the gentle movement 

 of the hand, which implied rejection, sometimes 

 spelling, no, — no. I was puzzled at this ; especial- 

 ly as a deep shade of pensiveness overcast a coun- 

 tenance that always was dressed in smiles on 

 Patrick's day. I was also vexed at his want of 

 sympathy, on a subject on which we had always 

 agreed so w r ell — love for dear Ireland. In the 

 middle of the day, I took him out with me, and 

 again tendered the shamrock : but could not per- 

 suade him to mount it higher than his bosom. 

 Seeing an Irish youth pass, with the national crest, 

 I pointed to him, saying, ' That good boy loves 

 Ireland : bad Jack does not love it.' This touched 

 him nearly : he answered sorrowfully, ' Yes, Jack 

 very much loves poor Ireland.' I shook my head, 

 pointing to his hat; and, unable to bear the re- 



