Yes, Jenny was one of the poorest
children of that impoverished but glorious country where wit and
talent seem indigenous, springing up spontaneously in the rudest and
most uncultivated minds; showing what the land could bring forth
in its own strength, unaided by education, and unfettered by the
conventional rules of society. Jenny was a striking instance of the
worth, noble self-denial, and devotion which are often met withand,
alas! but too often disregarded - in the poor and ignorant natives of
that deeply-injured, and much abused land. A few words about my old
favourite may not prove uninteresting to my readers.
Jenny Buchanan, or as she called it, Bohanon, was the daughter of a
petty exciseman, of Scotch extraction (hence her industry) who, at
the time of her birth, resided near the old town of Inniskillen. Her
mother died a few months after she was born; and her father, within
the twelve months, married again. In the meanwhile, the poor orphan
babe had been adopted by a kind neighbour, the wife of a small
farmer in the vicinity.
In return for coarse food and scanty clothing, the little Jenny
became a servant-of-all-work. She fed the pigs, herded the cattle,
assisted in planting potatoes and digging peat from the bog, and
was undisputed mistress of the poultry-yard. As she grew up to
womanhood, the importance of her labours increased. A better reaper
in the harvest-field, or footer of turf in the bog, could not be
found in the district, or a woman more thoroughly acquainted with
the management of cows and the rearing of young cattle; but here
poor Jenny's accomplishments terminated.
Her usefulness was all abroad. Within the house she made more dirt
than she had the inclination or the ability to clear away. She could
neither read, nor knit, nor sew; and although she called herself a
Protestant, and a Church of England woman, she knew no more of
religion, as revealed to man through the Word of God, than the
savage who sinks to the grave in ignorance of a Redeemer. Hence
she stoutly resisted all ideas of being a sinner, or of standing
the least chance of receiving hereafter the condemnation of one.
"Och, sure thin," she would say, with simple earnestness of look and
manner, almost irresistible. "God will never throuble Himsel' about
a poor, hard-working crathur like me, who never did any harm to the
manest of His makin'."
One thing was certain, that a benevolent Providence had "throubled
Himsel'" about poor Jenny in times past, for the warm heart of this
neglected child of nature contained a stream of the richest
benevolence, which, situated as she had been, could not have been
derived from any other source.
