Greenfield Evening Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 16 March 1895 — Page 3

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ST. PATRICK'S DAY.

Oh, hirst bo the (l:iys when the

creen tlout-ccl sui/-hiu

Iler scepter, alas! passed away to 1 ho stranger, And treason surrendered what valor had held, But true hearts remained amid darkness and danger.

Which, despite of her tyrants, would not bo quelled. Oft, oft, through tho muht Hashed clt'iuns of liKht,

Which almost the darkness of bondage dispelled, But a star now is clear, her heaven to cheer,

Not like the wild fleams which so fitfully darted, But loin to shine down with its hallowing ray,

On daughters as fair and sons as true hearted As Erin beholds on St. Patrick's day.

Oh, blest be the hour when, bcpirt by her canlion And hailed as it rose by a nation's applause, That Hair waved aloft o'er the spire of Duiigan11011,

Assertintr for Irishmen Irish laws. Once more shall it wave o'er hearts as brave, Despite ut tho dastards who mock at her cause, And like brothers agreed, whatever their creed,

Her children, inspired by those glories departed. No longer darkness desponding will stay,

But join in her cause like the brave and true hearted, Who rise for their rights on St. Patrick's day.

THE GIU:E\ JMlilSOX

A STOIiY OK ST. I'ATKICK S DAY.

[Copyright, 1805, by Amrru-an Press Association. "An if Ivor ye meet a pretty fair nuud, "SVid a dark an rolhn rye,

Oil. kiss hor an embraee her An tell her the ray son why!'

It wis Annie, tho boarding house chambermaid, caroling outside Misa O'Neil's hall bedroom. "God bless the Irish heart of her!" said Miss O'Neil, and then she sighed as she fastened hor collar with her mother's old fashioned brooch, the. little quick sigh that tolls of melancholy put down by determination.

Miss O'Neil was Irish herself. Her gray, dark iringed eyes told that more plainly than did her name, and though her pretty speech was enriched by just a touch of brogue she was newer to the new world than Annie and more homesick for tho old.

Annie tapped lightly at the door. "Yes come in, Annio," said Miss O'Neil, and then she started and stared an instant. "Win*, Annie, is it— Why, it is St. Patrick's day! Think of my forgetting that!"

Annie had a knot of green ribbon ou her breast. Miss O'Neil's lip began to quiver. "Oh, Annie, tho words came, with a sob, "I wish I was back in Ireland! 1 wish I was!" "Sure ye'll think ye are tins day. Ye're not fit to go down stairs. Sit here, an I'll bring yer breakfast up to ye ineself. It's a blessed day, an let me begin it by doin that much for a ra-al Irish lady—tho Blessed Virgin takocare of ye!" "You have done a deal for me by just being so sweet and Irish, Annie, and bringing tho sight of your green ribbon with you. It made me cry, but I'll be

SHE CAUGHT AT A CHAIIFT.

braver for it" Miss O'Neil wiped her eyes. She turned back as her hand was on the Itnob. "It ought to be a lucky day this, don't you think so, Annie, for an Irish girl?"

And Annie stopped beating a pillow to say that St Patrick's was well known to her mother before her and her grandmother bofore that for the luckiest day in the whole year, and that if Miss O'Neil had the luck she deservod—but Miss O'Neil was gone.

It was net a year since* Mary O'Neil had come to America with her widowed father. He was a Dublin lawyer, making a good income and spending it all, but after her mother's death he found

life in the old surroundings ir^ierable. He must do something to get away from familiar sights and sounds. He deter-

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the ln-vart-cr to tread on her soil.

When back o'er the mam they ehns'd the Dane And irave to religion and learnim: their spoil When valor and mind toir.-iher conilimed—

But wheiviore lament: o'er the clones departed? Her star shall shine out with, as vivid array,

For ne'er had she elnldren more brave and true hearted Than those she now soos on St. Patrick's day.

mined to go to America. Friends said it was madness at his timo of life to tear up tho old roots and transplant his profession, but he said he should go mad if lie staid. He was himself surprised when Mary, too, said she would rather go than stay. She would like to live in America. He did not think of the fact that young Harry Stevenson was in America as having anything to do with Mary's willingness to live there. Neither did Mary, or if she did she did not put the thought into words, not even to deny ir. But the mother, if she could have known, would have suspected that there was a connection between tho two thinirs and would have sighed and smiled with tears in her eyes. Mary did not know that young Stevenson had asked her father'* permission to write to hor and had been reiused it on the ground that it was best to put no nonsense in such a chit's head when she had never thought- of such a thing as a lover in her hie. The best way would bo to leave her alone in her childish freedom of heart for a time, was Mr. O'Neil's verdict, and his wife knew he was talking nonsense—that -Mary was a woman— but she told him it was a wise arrangement, because who could tell but that anything else was yet more unwise? And so Mary had her lime ut the secret pain girls know so well till all lesser troubles were lost in her loss ot her mother.

Sin- and her la her came to America. She never asked him why ho did not look up Harry Stevenson. Ho thought to himself that she had actually forgotten all about him. IIo would not look up a man who had once wanted to become his daughter's suitor till he had once muro gamed a place in the world for his daughter befitting her. Ho lived only six months after their arrival, and his daughter was now living on the little capital ho left behind him, or rather on tho small part of that which was in money. She was a brave girl, and sho had cast about her for some way to earn her living at once. Sho had at last decided to try to go on the stage. It was not such a foolish decision in her case as it usually is, looked at from one point of view. A sheltered, happy girl is not apt to havo many breadwinning gifts at her command when she is suddenly thrown on hor own resources, and Mary was no exception, but sho had a large experience of tho amateur stago and beauty, distinction and a lovely, round Irish voico. To seek some modest theatrical engagement seemed a sensible thing to do—till sho began to do it.

But, oh, the misery, the humiliation, tho cold despair she had felt during this last week! She, without friends, without experience, had been making tho rounds of tho dramatic, agents and managers, and only her despair, her pride and her courage had kept her up under her experience of their cynical, cold scorn and indiii'erenco, their tone*, so new to her, that refused to recognize her femininity as any plea for tho courtesy she was so used to that sho had never recognized ifs existence till sho missed it.

Today she was to soo one moro, an agent, tho last on her list. Yesterday he had said to her brusquely, "1 haven't, time to talk to you." Then, with a glance that measured her as if she had been a horse: "You say you've played a lot with amateurs? Well, you can come in and see me tomorrow at 2 o'clock if you want to. I'll hear what you have to say, if you can say it in ten minutes. "We expected to see you all in green, with a harp in your hand, this morning, Miss O'Neil," said ono of the old women of the boarding house as the girl seated herself at the breakfast table. Sho drew her crocheted chinchilla shawl closer about her, with a pinched smile. "I suppose Aliss O'Neil will appear in that costume when sho makes her debut on the stage," said tho little boprinked passe married woman who considered herself the belle of tho hoarding house. "One of my young men said he saw you in Hart & Block's offico yesterday, so we expect you to begin starring soon." She stared at Mary with hard, triumphant black eyes. Sho felt she had ferreted out a secret and succeeded in giving pain. "Well, that's great news for us theater goers, it it's so, Miss O'Neil," said tho big, good natural drummer. "Lucky manager''— He was interrupted by another and very dismal old woman, who said in a lngh, penetrating voico that it was "a terriblo thing tho way actresses behave nowadays by what you read in tho newspapers. I never saw ono myself," and tho drummer, feeling himself powerless bofore tho feminine phalanx, swallowed at a gulp his beverage, called by courtesy coffee, and flung himsolf out of the room, wondering if Miss O'Neil would accept a pot of shamrock if ho sent it to her. Ho concluded ho did not daro try it.

Miss O'Neil carriod herself through the meal with that quiet prido the belle of tho boarding house called arrogance, but she did not eat much, and as sho stitched away, repairing and remodeling her little wardrobe, all morning. some tears droppod upon her gowns. "Well, at this rate I'm doing my clothes more harm than good,'' sho said to herself, "and indeed they cannot afford tho luxury of grief, and neither can I," and she got up to look in the glass to see if her eyes wore red. Tho tide had turned, as Irish tidos do, HO unaccountably, and sho dressed and went out upon her appointed mission all but gayly. Sho put all thought of the coining interview out of hor mind, and let her heart grow at the sight of so many green ribbons and green flags on boys and men and horses and carts. "It is an Irish town, as they say," sho thought, "and an Irish girl ought not to have to starve here.''

In a shop window sho caught sight of the most gorgeous green ribbon she had seen that day, a lovely ribbon of watered silk embroidered in gold harps and shamrocks. "I never saw anything so pretty,'' she exclaimed sotto voce. "Oh, I must have a piece of it!" was the next thing with this Irish daughter of Eve. Her little money was melting

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day by day she was economizing to the point of hardship, walking till rhe was faint to savo a car faro her future was full of dark uncertainty, and he was facing it like a heroine, and now hero she was merrily squandering §1.50 for a useless knot of green ribbon, carried away by a child's impulse mado of infantile patriotism, vanity and pleasure in prettiness. "No, don't do it up," sho'said to tho shopgirl, and sho knotted her ribbon on her breast under her cloak. "I must remember and not throw back my cloak in that office, "sho cautioned herself. "That man might bo an Orangeman. Who knows?" thought the Dublin girl, with serious faith in tho reality of such an issue.

Hart, the agent, sat at his desk in an inner room. The outer office was full of ladies of all ages, but unanimously youthful in toilet and generally yellow haired, with a sprinkling of clean shaven men. Jlarv passed through tho crowd, summoned by tho magnate of the place, to en tor his sanctum at once. "Well?" he said curtly. Mary tried to statelier case. Sho mentioned among other things that she sang. "I'll put your name on our list, said tho great man. "Maybe we can place

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you if you aro willing to go on tho road at a very small salary, but I doubt if wo can do anything tor you at all, and certainly not before next fall. Good day!"

Mary had stood during the five minutes' interview. She turned to the door. Her eyes were dim with tho sickness of hope deferred she did not see a stool at her feet sho stumbled over it, caught at a chair to savo herself her cloak flow back as sho threw out her arm, and there on her breast gallantly waved that foolish knot of gay green ribbon. Mr. Hart had sat unmoved while sho was about to fall, but now a quite human smile spread over his face that had hitherto been so sphinxlike, f® "Wait a minute," ho said. "Is that for St. Patrick's day?" "Yes," and Mary stood straight and proud and far moro becomingly than before. "I'm an Irish woman." "Good, said Mr. Hart. "You did that very well looks as if there wero some stuff in you. Sit down hero a minuto. I'm an Irishman myself, Irish Amorican, and I'm in a devil of a hole about an Irish singer I'd ongaged for a show tonight. Irish society going to have a banquet at ono of tho theaters tonight. It's ono of tho little places, and this girl that was going to sing somo real old Irish songs for them from the stago has gone and got tho quinzy 6r something. I don't know anybody that knows any real Irish songs, and you can't put up a fako on theso people. Do you suppose you'vo got voico enough, and do you know any Irish songs?"

That night Mary sang before tho banqueting Irishmen and the onlooking Irish women who filled tho boxes and balconies of tho littlo theater. "Where'd they get her?" "Who is sho?" "And did you ever hear such a voico for sweetness and roundness? A contralto for mo evory timo!" "Do you know who she is at all?" Tho bombardment of the silent young man continued: "Is sho Irish? She must bo. "Yes, she's Irish," ho answored at last, adding hastily, "You may be sura of it."

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After an interval the singer again appeared. The young man left his seat and found another, oloso to tho stago.

Mary began to sing to its own incomparable melody "Tho Dear Irish Boy." The lines had just rung out, with their heart moving pathos, when there was a scream, a crash and a great confusion. Someone, of course, cried "Fire!" and a hundred voices contradicted him in various uncomplimentary terms. Tho pit of the theater had boon boarded over to mako a new floor above tho seats, and this temporary flooring had given way at one spot. No ono was seriously injured. A woman or two had fainted, a man or two went homo, and then tho festival onco more became festive*, and calls for tho rest-of the "Dear Irish Boy" began to be raised.

Brit something very queer had happened. Tho singer had disappeared entirely. Not a trace of her was to be found. "She's a fairy, a real Irish fairy," the men said to each other. Tho mystery of her exit added in retrospect to the mystery and charm of her appearance. The newspaper men found "material" in the matter. Mary had "made a hit."

When the crash came and the singer stopped and paled, when all heads were turned from the stage, the silent young man who had drawn near had leaped upon it, the girl gave ono hushed cry, "Harry, Harry Stevensi^:!" tho word "Fire!" had rung out, and Harry Stevenson had hurried her oil' the sceno.

The next, day Mr. Hart wroto to Miss O'Neil telling her he had an engagement for her with a popular Irish comedian who had hoard her sing tho night bofore. "I shall tell him, Harry, that I already have an engagement with an Irish comedian," said Alary. "God grant you may never play tragedy with him!" said Harry Stevenson, pressing her hand between both of his till sho reminded him she had already warned him that the hello of tho boarding house was watching them through tho portieres. "Well, our story begins, this chaptor of it, as a reward for my sins. If fato keeps that, we'll surely always be lucky. What would havo become of mo if I hadn't squandered my precious pennies for that silly ribbon, bless it! They say God loves tho Irish, and there's a sign of it, for it was tho Irishest thing to do!" VIOLA ROSEBORO.

Norah, the Pride of Kililare.

As beauteous as Flora is charming youiiK Norah, The joy of my heart and the pride of Kildare. I ne'er will deeeivo her, for twully 'twould prieve her

To find tliat 1 sighed for another less fair.

Where'er I may be, love, I'll no'er forgot thee, lovo, Though beauties may smllo and try to inenaro, Yet nothing shall ever my heart from thee sever.

Dear Norah, eweot Noruh, tho prido of Klldarc. -i cnoRus. Ber heart with truth teeming, her eyes witn gmilos beaming. What mortal could injure a blossom so falrf Oh, Norah, dear Norah, the pride of Kildai*.

sstitisill^

EIUN'S GREAT SAINT.

CONFLATING STORiES AS TO HIS BIRTH AND DEATH.

•\Vliat. St. Patrick Says In His "ConfesBions."

Ilis ilreat Work or the Cause of Chris

tianity—The .shamrock Useil to Illustrate

the Trinity.

Irish historians and nearly all thoso who have, written about the birthplace of St. Patrick are in doubt as to tiio country to which ho belonged or the pplace where lvst his mortal remains. As i-Mnany as 30 lives of the saint were written as early as the twelfth century.

These various works have sine .1 the co:iI quest of Ireland by England 1172 been condensed into seven, and on these t^soven works is founded most, if not all, of what lias been since written in connection with the Mo, the history and I the times of St. Patrick. Much that was pertinent to the nativity and birthplace of St. Patrick has doubtless been expunged these condensed works, but ]'enough still remains to show that, though a Gallic as well as a Celtic origin has been claimed for him, there is abundantI evidence to show, and indeed St. Patrick himself says his "Confessions,J/wtbathe wa an ihigh-hman. "1 was born,'' says he in his famous "Confessions," "the son of Calpurnius, who was of the village of Bonavou, in

Thavurnia," and Mr. Cashel Hooy, a well known Catholic writer, thinks that St. Patrick was tho son of a British official employed under the Roman power, and who remained in Britain after the Roman legions had returned to do battle for Julius Ciesar.

Ballandist's copy of tho "Book of Armagh," one of the most ancient records that is now extant, says: "Patrick, who was called Sochet, was a Briton by birth, being born in Britain, tho son of Calpurnius, a deacon, who was of the village of Bonavon Tliabur, not far from the sea."

Again, St. Patrick speaks of himsolf, saying, "After a few years I was again in Britain with my parents.'' Elsewhere tho saint refers to his great anxiety "to go to Britain as unto his parents," and also to visit his spiritual brethren in Gaul. Besides all this St. Patrick's father and brother wero buried in Glaston-

ST. I'ATlUCK.

bury, only 17 miles from Bath, in the west of England, which is near the river Avon, running into the Irish sea. It is thus understood that "Bonavon Shabur" refers to tho mouth of the Avon, which adjoins Bath, and is only 19 miles from the Bristol channel.

Owing to a revolt in the district after the withdrawal of tho Roman legions from Britain, St. Patrick and his brother and sister wero carried away from their parents and sold as slaves into Ireland. The futuro apostlo was but 16 years of ago when, in tho early Saxon times, tho shores of Britain were infested by pirates. In Ireland Patrick's occupation was liko that of tho prodigal son of tho New Testament—feeding and herding hogs and tending sheep. He thus became tho slavo of an Irish chief named Melcho, who farmed lands near Ballymona, in tho county of Antrim, and whilo St. Patrick was in this condition ho sighed and longed for his native land, and whilo in a yearning condition ho tells us ho had an intimation that tho time of his doliverance was close at hand. During a vision one night he saw in his dreams a man named Vitricus—a thoroughly Roman name— coming from one of the Roman campa, in which, while a boy, he resided with his father on tho banks of tho Avon, and he prayed long and fervently that ho might bo rescued.

In his twenty-second year, A. D. 454, ho sot sail from the barony of Tyrawloy, in the county of Mayo, and after being throo days at soa ho roached that part of France between Trajectus and Tours, on tho banks of the Loiro. Finally ho arrived at Tours and joined some of the colaborors of St. Martin, who was bishop of that placa Here the future apostle of Iroland remained four years undergoing an education, through tho influence of the bishop, who was a near relative of his mother, Gaul as well as Britain then owning tacit submission to the Roman ompira He was admitted to the priesthood in due time and commissioned by Pope Celostine to preach the gospel to missionary nations. The first wish of young Patrick as soon as he became a priest was to return to Ireland and to convort those Irish herdsmen who had toiled with him in the days of his oaptivity. It is owing to this oircumstance that tho name of Bt. Patrick is known to us as the apostlo of Ireland.

When he relanded in Ireland, the Irish were already a highly civilized people, with an organized form of gov-

evnment and enjoying the benefits civilization, derived from a former effort under St. Germanicus to Christianize them. They wore then organized in clans, the head of each clan being a chieftain, who carried on the government of his tribe under an admirablecons .ition known as theBrehon laws, and St. Patrick losr no time with tho common people. He addiossed himself to the chieltains and the kings, feeling that if he converted these he would secure the spiritual conquest of the entire nation. Accordingly, availing himself of a convention in the famous halls of Tara, ho addressed himself to the assembled chiefs, preaching to them the gospel of a new civilization as well as of Christian truth. The Irish were always hospitable and kindly to strangers, and, though the Druids and pagan priests of tho period received tho strange young missioner with the same feelings of alarm as the Samoau people would today receive an enovy of tho Vatican or a diseiiile of F.xetor Hall, tho chiefs gave Patrick a hearing, and, according to all accounts, ho made the best possible means of his great opportunity, it so hanpened that at the time of this convention in the historic halls of Tara the Druid priests had ordered lires to be lighted upon the neighboring hxlls of Louth and oi Meath honor of the gods ar.d of the great occasion. St. Patrick had made such headway with his doctrines mat in winding up his sermon lie utilized the beacon lights to assure his hearers that a light was burning brightly in F.rin that evening which might never become extinguished. He had already confounded tho Druids and turned the tables upon themselves and their doctrines in presence of the kings and chieltains of the nation.

One. remarkable instance of Patrick's extraordinary cleverness and of his readiness to avail himself of a simple illustration, in order to bring conviction homo to his hearers, conies down to usfrom his day. Whilo the young missioner was discoursing upon tho Trinity one of tho Druid priests interrupted him, as a Unitarian might do even in our own day, by challenging Patrick to explain how then! were throe Gods in one. This was evidently a poser to tho illiterate pagans, who sat around tho royal circle. But Patrick, suiting tho action to tho word, stooped down, and plucking a single* leaf of shamrock from the sward beneath him held it up to tho astonished gaze of the multitude, and explaining that, as tho little bit of tr ste there wen* three Gods in one, and one in three One can easily imagine, even at this distance of time, with what a thundering shout of patriotic applauso this explanation involving the shamrock was received by the priimtiv(§Jrish, even if tho reason and the not. overacute intellect of the period remained unsatislied.

rel'oil grew -ji a single stpm, and the torn omanateu from the throo leaves, so

It was in this way and by arts like these quite as much as by the forco and the beauty of Christian principles that St. Patrick accomplished Ins purpose and established his right to tho chief apo.itlc-lnp of Ireland.

Ji^r.Pif W. GAVAN."

IRISH NAMES.

Tlieir Ori-

Many of Them

and Wh:it

:\leuii

"The O's aro above the Macs."

iThis was ono of the old sayings with which one faction too often taunted another, but it is only true in the sens© that tho O's wero first on tho ground. Both mean the same—that is, "son of" or "of tho house of," as Do in French and Spanish, Van in Dutch and A or Ap in Welsh and old English. Some Scotchmen, however, claim that Mac is from the same root as the Latin magnus, and therefore means "great." As there were no surnames before tho tenth century, many a lainily or clan took the name of its chief or founder, as the Hv-Nial, and later O'Neil from the great Nial.

Naari was old Celtic, for "hero, and the MacNaaris were his followers. Queen Macha gave name to Ar-macha, or Armagh. Owen Mor was "Owen the Great." Cormac Ulla was "Long Beard, but it is hardly the case that all tho McCormacks aro his descendants. Laighaire was the monarch who protected St. Patrick, and by slow modifications the name has become Loary. All tho kings of the sixth and seventh centuries were of the Hy-Nial race, so the O'Noils aro an extensive family. The Scotch Dcarmid and Irish Dermid changed naturally to Dermott, and tho clansmon added tho Mac. In liko manner King Hugh probably gave origin to tho great sept of the Hughes.

The Danes loft us a few names—all thoso old names ending in "ford," chiefly names of placos, as Wexford, Waterford, etc. Among their opponents appear tho great Brian and Molaghlin, or Malachy, well represented in Irish names of today. Soon aftor tho Danish war bogan we find such names for titles asGlun-dubh, or "Black Knee Sitrick and Ivar—tho la»t clearly Danish, but tho Maclvors aro good Irish. Godfrid, son of Sitrick, was tho first Danish chiof to proclaim himsolf a Christian, but as ho did this in a year of disaster, and when ho had gathered power again dostroyed all tho churches of East Meath (A. D. 949) and burned 150 people in the oratory at Drumveo, we must doubt his conversion.

Tho Norman conquest brought in a groat variety of names and titles, and thereafter all had surnames. Tho prefix "Fitz," meaning "son," soon abounded in Irish names, as Fltzroy, Fitzburn, Fitzgerald, etc. The De Burghos transformed a sept, and half the fighting mem of Galway became Burkes. Othor founders of Irish-Norman houses were the Do Clares, Do Cogang, De Lacys, De Courcys, Lo Poors and the great Maurice Fitzgerald, oommon ancestor of the Geraldines of Desmond and Kildare. Later came such purely English families as Jackson, Lee, etc., and last of all the Hanovernians, and so there we are —a mixed sot as to names but all Iriih by time, and soon, it is to be hoped, to be cnited Irishmen indeed.

J. H. BKAPUL