Democratic Sentinel, Volume 2, Number 32, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 September 1878 — “SWEET BELLS JANGLED.” [ARTICLE]

“SWEET BELLS JANGLED.”

The firm of Shiel & Mac Neil is pretty well known now in the printing line; but, as the song says, When they began, they'd no meat in the pan ; and, before they were fairly on their legs, so to speak, Mac Neil went and married “a lass without a tocher.” Sbeil had yearned over this extravagance himself; and, going down one day with his partner to the old place where they had learned their trade, hearing from the press-room the old, sweet, familiar voice Binging the old, sweet, familiar tunes, Shiel’s heart throbbed to the measure, and ho said to Mac Neil, with a big blmh on his broad cheeks, that he supposed his partner had forgotten little Jenny Burke, but he, for one, would never forget her while the world went round, and he was going in to see her that very day. Whereupon Mac Neil began to redden, too, and led the way so readily to the particular press that the young English girl was feeding, and Jenny met his approach in such a shy, trembling, glad confusion, poor Shiel felt his heart suddenly faint within him and stole away, after a minute or two’ to he alone with a singular pang of desolation that had swept over him. When Mac Neil joined him, Shiel was himself again, but there was something in his face that fed Mac Neil to ask him what was the matter. Had he lost anything ? “No—yes,” stammered poor Shielthen added, piteously: “Why didn’t you tell me, Mac, that you had kept on with Jenny? I thought it was a bargain we shouldn’t think of marrying till the business was well started.” “So it was, Shiel,” said Mac; “but you know what a sweet voice she’s got Deuce take me, if it didn’t haunt me night and day. You don’t know what it is to have a musical ear, and there’s no harm in being cheered by a song or “Tush, man I” broke in Shiel. “Do you love each other ?” “I’m afraid so, Shiel.” “Then the sooner she’s out of that nasty press-room the better.” “ If you’d board with us, Shiel, I believe we could save money by going to housekeeping; and think how nice it would be to have a snugingleside of our own !

Shiel winced a little from this pro posal, but couldn’t find courage to reject it; so they took rooms near their place of business, and for the first twelvemonth or so Mac’s fiddle was well known in the neighborhood. The boys dropped in for a chorus three nights out of four and all went merry as a marriage bell, till the feeble pipe of an infant was added to the refrain, which suddenly subdued all other music in its vicinity, 'to the immense delight of Shiel, who, not being able to raise a note himself, was somewhat tired of the melodious conceits of others. He did not know that the child s squeak was singularly low and sweet, and as it gained volume it also acquired melody. Shiel was dinar) pointed to find the little girl an exaSt reproduction of her papa, but could not believe that the fates had willed she should share his weakness for music. He declared it was the monkey that amused her, whereas the babv’s soul was given over to the hurdy-gurdy. Now I taxe this premature and striking proclivity as a misfortune. Infant prodigies are always more or less of a nuisance, and little Miss Jean’s precocity grew to an a arming extent as the years went by. The firm of Shiel A Mac Neil flourished. Jenny saved the pennies, an '• th ® .VP 1 / extravagances were in behalf of little Miss Jean, whose waxen face could only be coaxed into a glow by the aid of some sort of melody. And the older she grew the wider her taste expanded, so that after a while a new mane J lV ® re d and engineered up the stairs, and almost filled Jenny’s little parlor. Mmy a familiar knickthe wall or be tucked out of sight to make room for this mountain of mahogany. n l‘i Tt ® Bhame -” said one of in! m fi *° B , lVe Up the dear old fiddle for the jinglin’of them ivory pupP® tß ’ n 4 eW piece of Misß Joanns sets a fellow s teeth on edge. One can't ba ™ any more fun at Mac’s; he’s hung up his fiddle and his bow; and for my ere ‘i e reßt of the cronies—they fell off one by one, and in a few years ETJT 5 - 1 ?! b ?t Shiel; he, poor y felin ’ aft^ r n ’ ght Wlth his head up against the wall, the muni i going in one ear and out of the other, till it soomed to him he had become simply a sort of hollow melancholy tube for the accommodation of echoes. IroS « a o t « OOU1 -? l ? lac do ’ who bad al °ne pt pace with his daughter, and appreciated to the full her remarkable profiSr^r~7^ at C ° Uld he do but l°ng P for a &•! “’ prouder scope for her? floor fi’ ngß low in their humble floor, the acoustic properties were en--2 * an g ‘ hat but cozy . J- Alas, alas I the nest was all Md . fo ' lte JuU-fledged inmates, bn ! neighborbood was not what it 7 > ' < j n ‘ Macs business increased He waß B etti ng to be quite a mon eyed man, and really an authority „ Mc - Busts of Beethoven, Moz.rt, ShFeUn ali the re6t poor would Look which wa y b e b “ 118 1)1 of A tL d AM Dy ’ fi ? diD & that the very walls asunder i Deß ‘T re almost bisting J fine Aew h^ laßtto move into hood and bn 1 * 01180 ’ a Uew neighboretofb’oo d have new furniture and new new h luA« eW and minister, a all an<l baker ’ ftnd » W ° rSt Of Bu P erior and excellent ment l be whole establishher hands ’ and left her neHtv Jni dry u P on the banks of prosP 1 nothing to do but enjoy herself. And all at once she began to be most miserable. Mr. Mac Neil and »is remarkable daughter stepped out of their nest as the blithest, finest, most sagacious of birds, left the worthless tenement that has served its purpose, ana began forthwith to scratch and peck and scramble for themselves in the most natural and praiseworthy way. But poor Jenny stumbled at every step, and grew more featherless and forlorn as the years went by. Pretty she was yet, far prettier than her daughter, but this did not seem to win for her the admiration she most coveted. Poor Jenny

would gladly have taken the ponderous form and heavy features of Mrs. Delaney Vere, could she thereby have gained that lady’s severely critical taste and talent, or the long bony neck of Miss Perry, if it could still hold those wonderfully high notes which Mr. Mac* Neil so admired. Do what she would, the old accent, that was once so dear to her husband’s ear, still clung to her. “ Don’t say ‘yere* for ‘ here,’ Jenny,” expostulated Mr. Mac Neil; “and I’d rather do without anything at the table than the letter A, except when it’s one letter too many.” So Jenny began to speak only from sheer necessity. She never could please her husband any more, do what she would, and didn’t care to find favor in the sight of others. It began to be apparent to Jenny that she was a clog and a burden to her husband and her daughter—nay, to the whole world in which they delighted to live—and there came a time when she resolved no longer to be the stumbling-block to their popularity. There was a musicale at the house that night, and all the doors were open. The halls were filled with flowers, some of them brought from the florist in tubs of wide dimensions, and Jenny, in a plain black silk, crouched behind one of these while Mr. Mac Neil was bringing his daughter down the stairs and into the crowded parlors. Mac’s nose was high in the air; he was dressed in the finest ofbroadcloth, while the musical prodigy, who was now a well-grown young woman, swept along in a rustling white silk that the dressmaker wouldn’t let Jenny do even the cording for. On they went, and Jenny’s heart swelled big with pride, then sank with mortification, for two fine ladies near her, leaning upon the arms of a good-natured-look-ing gentleman, began all at once to cavil at poor Jenny, who had never in her whole life said evil of anybody. “The mamma appears to be invisible,” said one of them. “ They say she is shut up in the coal-hole upon these occasions; and no wonder, when one thinks of the blunders of the poor creature.”

“ Perhaps she’s in the kitchen,” said the other. “ I have heard that is where Mr. Mac Neil first found her. ” Then up spoke the good-natured looking gentleman, and said that if she could make a good ragout there her husband ought to rise up and call her blessed, for it was a finer accomplishment than any he could remember; and one thing was certain, she was a far prettier woman than most of them there that night. But Jenny did not hear this; and, if she had, it would not have comforted her. A little later on, one of their old friends, the wife of a journeyman printer, in the dear old neighborhood of the forsaken past, was startled by the apparition of a comely face, dear to the olden time of merriment and song, but now blurred with tears; and the tale she told Mrs. McShane anticipated every word of. “ My poor bairnie,” she said, “ I knew how ’twould be when I saw Mac’s way of going on. His stuck- up airs and his talk about strophes and symphonies and outlandish heathenisms boded no good. But so long as I have a roof you shall share it.”

But Jenny was independent, and soon got a situation far above the one in which she first saw her husband. As luck would have it, the <tld rooms were just vacated. Mrs. McShane had most of the old furniture; so before the month was out Jenny was back in her nest, but sick at heart, and sometimes ready to die. la the meanwhile we must run back a month to the scene of festivity, where we left Mac with his head in the air, and the skirts of the musical prodigy trailing full a yard behind her. Neither of them missed Jenny till the splendid repast was ready, and the guests were not disconsolate for the society of their hostess. But now, indeed, it was time for Jenny to take her rightful place; and, with many an inward prayer that she would be as little unequal to the occasion as could be expected of her, and a resolve to caution her only to speak when necessary, and a certainty in his heart that she would at least be pleasant to look upon, Mr. Mac Neil awaited his wife. I needn’t say he waited m vain, and two or three of the servants not being able to find her, Mr. Mac Neil, in high displeasure, sent Shiel off with an immediate order for her peremptory appearance before him. Shiel hunted high and low, and came back to his partner pith a wild look of alarm in his face, and his now-scanty locks almost on end.

“She’s clean gone—not a sign of her!” he said. Mr. Mac Neil was more mad than grieved, for he knew she’d come in, he said, at the fag-end of the feast, and spoil everything. “She’s run out somewhere for something,” said poor Mac, little thinking of the nature of her errand. He made an apt excuse to his daughter, and the supper went on successfully. Poor Shiel ate never a mouthful, and his face was as white and blank as if he had seen a ghost; but nobody minded Shiel. In truth, Mac’s own appetite was a little frustrated, and, as the night wore away, he was heartily glad to see the people trotting out to their carriages. W T hen all were gone, a little up-st airs maid, who had been always civil to poor Jenny, put a little note into Mac’s hand, saying that her mistress told her not to give it to him till the festivity was over. Mac opened it with t trembling hand, and read poor Jenny’s scrawl: I’m gone for good aud all, dearie. For a long time I’ve seen that you and my dailmg child were teyoad me in everything. I can never get up to you; so please forgive ,me if I stop by the way. God bless and prosper you, is the prayer of your faithful Jenny. Mac handed it over to Shiel, and dropped into a chair as if struck by an unseen hand. The air was a little heavy with the breath of his artistic guests who had just departed, and the scent of the exotics sickened his nostrils; the big blaze of light grew dim about him, and all he could see for that weary minnte was the sweet face of a young English girl he had known and loved almost beyond his strength a long time ago.

Shiel had read the note for the sixth time, his face growing more and more distracted and imbecile, and had begun to read it over again, when Mac cried out, in a broken voice, “Could any villain be at the bottom of this, Shiel ? could any one have tampered with her loyalty ?”

“Never!” cried Shiel, indignantly. “I’ll answer for that with my life. 1 know howfoolishly faithful she was—never an eye or an ear for anybody else. I know that by experience. Many’s the time I’ve tried to console her myself for your indifference.” “ My what ?” roared poor Mac. “ Your indifference and neglect, sir !” cried Shiel, now aroused to the pitch of recklessness. “She wa s a pearl of purity and sweet simplicity, but she was cast before swine, sir.” “Shiel, you are always more or less of a fool,” groaned Mac, “and now your clean daft.” But he listened to Shiel as he went on to give him a piece of his mind, and took heart as he gathered in the evidence of Jenny’s wounded love. “She’ll be back before twentyfour hours,” said Mac, “and we’lllall be the happier for this little bout.” But twenty-four hours went by, and forty-eight; a whole week passed away, and no Jenny came to lift the weight from Mac’s heart. Shiel advised him to secretly consult the police, at which Mae first revolted, then succumbed; but with no success. A fortnight Went by, and even Shiel forgave every fault of Mac’s, so deep and sincere were his sorrow and penitence. The musical abstraction of Miss Jean served in a measure to mitigate her grief, and an eminent

professor had offered her the warmest sympathy and consolation a man can offer; but poor Mac hated the thought or sound of music now, and would have no commiseration save that of Shiel, which, indeed, partook of so unwearied a nature that Mac clung to it as a drowning man will to a straw. At the end of a month Shiel declared that journalism was the only thing left to them. He had held it, he said, as a dernier ressort, not wanting to set the tongues of the world that Jenny so hated wagging in her .behalf, but her cruel obstinacy had left them no alternative. “I see,” said Mac, “the personal column in the Herald. Make it as agonizing as you can, Shiel. God knows it can’t hold misery enough. Tell her to come back and rule in every thing—manage the money and the business, smash the piano, and forbid Jean’s marriage to the professor; and tell her, Shiel, the house is ‘ cauld without her, and my heart wearies sair.’” And here the tears rolled out of his eyes, and a lump in his throat stopped his speech. “Nonsense, man,” said Shiel. “Call you that journalism ? Listen here, sir, to the cunning touch of genius, the lever that moves the world.” And he read forth to the desponding partner a little paragraph from a prominent newspaper, stating the deep regret with which they they learned that the recent domestic troubles of the eminent musical critic, Mr. Mac Neil, had not only prostrated him upon a bed of illness, where he was now lying in a critical condition, but that his business affairs had become hopelessly entangled, and there was a probability of an early sale of his-house-hold effects for the benefit of his creditors. Among these articles were some musical cariosities, information of which could be obtained of Mr. Shiel, Print-ing-House Square, No. . “And now I must go to No. at once,” said Shiel; “for, if I’m not mistaken, this will fetch her within the hour.”

Shiel had no sooner got seated at his desk than there was a timid knock at the door that sent his heart thumping in unison. Upon the threshold he presently saw a familiar little figure, and heard a broken voice which the thickness of no veil could disguise. . She began to inquire about the musical curiosities, while Shiel looked at her eagerly. He said not a word, but there was something in his face so sad and yearning that Jenny began to sob. “Is he very sick, Shiel dear?” she cried. “Oh, take me to him, wicked woman that lam ! I have killed him—have killed him for whom I would lay down my life 1” She threw back her veil and put out both her little hands, and Shiel, on the spur of the moment, caught her in his arms and held her to his heart, excusing the warmth of this embrace by the plea that he thought she was fainting. They found Mac walking about the room, somewhat worn and thin, to be sure, and big, greedy, cavernous hollows of grief in his face; but, as he took Jenny in his arms, these hollows filled up with joy, and bis whole being seemed to dilate with strength and gladness. “Surely you cannot be so very, very ill, dearie?” whispered Jennie, looking coaxingly into his eyes. “I’m—l’m a little better,” said Mac, slyly winking at poor Shiel, and kissing her again and again. “Then don’t mind being a beggar, dear,” pursued Jenny. “ Let them sell what they will, they can’t sell you, and we can all go and live in our old nest again.” “And give over this fine one to Jean and her professor,” said Mac. “ But the creditors,” cried Jenny. “There is the only man to whom I owe anything in the world,” said Mac, pointing to Shiel. Jenny looked about her rather ruefully, and said to Shiel, “Can’t we go back to the old nest, Shiel ? Can’t we all go back ?” Shiel was near the door, and caught both her hands in his. “There are no birds in last year’s nests,” said poor Shiel, and left them alone together.— Harper's Weekly.