Indiana State Sentinel, Indianapolis, Marion County, 25 April 1894 — Page 11

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THE INDIANA' STATE SENTINEL, WEDNESDAY MORNING, APRIL 2ö, 1894-TWELYE PAGES.

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JpMURTIE MULLIGAN'S REVENGE. I ' 1

' .."When, tho tide is in. the grtat, Atlantic T3 not a sVne' throw from tb? vlllajr Street. If ynfi ftooi- at th door of .sFatricüv Casey's "general . ?hop. you loauM ee the boats. fastened to the Uack stakes that leaned in th sloping ehlnple, rising and. falling to ttv music of the tiny wiivm that ch rimmcl asralnst "their liow-s. At low tide they lie still, tolling- on the golden sand with Its patches of red-torrwn pravel hrAvlnjr here Wid there; and the long- damp jeatveecis. Hthat seem to stretch their brvwn and amIfcer arms in longing to the receding Jcean, make all the air pxyigent and reJtreshins. It is a little rlc (lurtheen -standing, as it were, wiiu its feet in the ,:water; a little plar-e that holds many a färiend of mine men, ay, and women, too. of no high rank, but with simple, öcindly, huraaYi heart ;.. I was the son of the doctor who served the tumble-down "tJlspnsary. with Itty green bull's-eye win-'doiv-pan and 'UTtb red blinds. It was whitewashed wjthln and without, and Us low window-fyU nia1 a comfortable dbasking-plncft for the loiterers, for It occupied a prominent place in the village, jbetwecn C.-isy's "general stores" and 3Ienciseys public house I ran rftiirmler nothing of my mother but the soft, k-ool touc h vif her hand on my head once "when I wan a child and very ill. Sometimes I fancy that I remember her voice, tut It. think it is only a voice heard in come dream that 1 cannot remember, "i'et perfcaps it is hers all the same. They kay my father never was quite the saineftar my mother died. He devoted his Iwhole Irfe to the healing of his sick, and Jiclping every one lie could. eNcept mc, Ii! sou. whom he left lo his old housekeeper and the villape schoolmaster. 'And t-r I j?rew up, '"the pore docther's tossonn," pitied and mad" much of by the warn if hearted peasants. I shared iheir .rrmws with them, and they strove To share third r .i-ys with me. with a respect ami lacit lell-acy that kept the eovlal ineqeaiity well Y lined: for my Yather was of good family, and I alvavs had my rights as "wan av the culd t.to.-K." X't, as I sit by my roscy fire of an Ipvcning. with the eairta:ns rirawn to lx-eep oüt tho London fo, nothing re?t. j!.e so much after the long day of office work as the memories or" that llttl covJ.er in JxeKnd where my hil lho d nn t.ovhoorl were sj,eiu. I lazing into the plowing iw.,s, 1. t my l ipe so out. an! ence mor- stand, in fancy, on the t p f r.it. C rrin. vhi- '? ri. behind t!i vil-Jan-. l;nkii:; ;i..hvaid hwhv from the hea, th-r-"- is lh- .);: the twsj .f T'mnin;ick siretch.ing tr.vay, away in the siiufet. till C-e l.sid ciev.-s green again, and 1h f urzeciod i pit and gray-tone W.ill? Hint sharply ocfir.e the green fallow a.!3d brown plontr'tlard make th distant jf.is lf'k li'.e some hufce J--,-ml. Ilind all. the hills f Kerry--rvfangertori und The paps are a darker rlue asi'ibi'd. th- glorious blue nf heaven. And ihore. too there. still mere lalnt and blurred is the jagged summit Of the lei'S F'un'h-V. 'W 1. lbv h:utiC .! i a',1 is! How the amber Iwcms or tli dy'.ng sunlight blend with the ridi 1t--i'P -.f t h-e a.';t stretch of lirrnvn! Here f,"!d 'here the rir-k? of ti;rf stand black 1 the black joois. rnd vi.'i the great j itches f.f rich dark hrwi- .-how in bold l-tr'iicf agfiinst the tan, where th" ground h drier: and. th'. icfire n:ay be t"o sjnl"'r. t) hurni.xhej pr.re and purple Jn-..th- have .-. rne t-: Iwell on th little hilloc',;s that raise thir heads, high and l "V. aU.ve the damp peat. As the pale r ,ys flaut athwart th" I.roTvn. a purple 1 i::e Jiang? over all. but it ilos n t cncctl the tiny (lets of scarlet that TX ove hf-loT. where ynii! thrifty pensaiH if rmtitrl up hr skiit lefure the I'd Is iL cre"l with the rough sod. Th.cn turn to look seaward, out n or the chimney. almost hidden by tJi-ir soft, blue smoke, where the houses Jjuddlc together lown Mow. The vast rlain of water, violt-hued in the darkIt rig lieht of evening, is deserted, save f ir a brown sail o- two where a fisher fl-om IJerehaven or liantry creeps along J; cni. How cosily the village nestles at tihe margin of its haven. Jit. Corrin. on j-hieh I stand, towers at its back; while hi the liht and left the hills of t'orriK?en and Corrlgmore rear their great Iirown bracken-cot ered bulwarks, that heiter both the village and its little harbor. There lie the fishing fleet, almost nt their owners' doors; not much of a fleet indeed half-a-dozcn clumsy black Jjoats. two punts and Doolan's cutter. Th last, a somber marine antiquity, i as the chief Hourco of income to her nwner. She' made sluggish expeditions. tj Herehaven or Bantry. coming back q-ith a cargo of slate, flour, or artificial manure, to be retailed by j'atrick Casey, rihen fully manned, her crew consisted r4 Mike Ioolan. marter.and owner; Mrs. Xloolan, his wife; Mickey Doolan. his t4n. agtl fourteten: and "noxer." Mickey's dog. an unscrupulous ellow terrier with cars that didn't match, and n!y half an Inch of tail. That dog alwa ys sneaked alout as If he were 'wanted," and kept his wretched little upt-endangf tucked tightly down, as if lie feared that such a strongly marked feature would Identify him and l.-ad to lis arrest. Mike pnomn tvas a little man with one eye he lost his eye when lie pot the tirtter but there is "a story ebcut it. I rememUr him a wiry young" fellow wih bla-k hair and two pier-ing black Pyes. He licd In a little shanty where, indeed. h ?Vtl llvhalf-way up the hill of CnrriH-.n on the west side of the haven, and there be managed to support lumst'lf and his old mother by working fts a day 1 ilxirer here and there, and keeping a few sheep on his bit of Hnd. Thjn .Mike f.-U ti love, and loved Norah Daly with all the intensity and jealousy f his Vlti- temperament. IUit hig Llurtv Iullipan loved her too, with equal Intensity asd more jealousy. They had (been sworn friends, these two who now were rival.. Together they had plodded trarefooi to the low, whitewashed rctljp.al sehoof it the e-,st end of the village, and together they had protected und made noch of little Norrie Ialy. Their s hoo'.fj-liow, who trotted between Them in the whitest of pinafores and a little scarlet clonk. Hut it was the raw live of iMiyhtn-d then; now it was the mature love o; manhood, with its wild lor.ging for sole iossession. Norah lived in a tiny cottage on the fcillsidle aU'iit two miles front tlurtheeri, where ?he kept house fur Owen I.ily, her grand fs Tiier, an old m m bedrid le"n 3y age aj.d lfieuni.ttism. Tliey were very Jioor. for tt.-re w.h no one to dig the ft.lt of l.ind. and 'a.lor was dar. Hut the work- wis well done, nevertheless. Old J'ily's purTatie were never a day later thiui ih'e of his neightr-. and til oats er always threshed and stored before the weather broke. "Sure fti'd Taly have ne'er a uan at Bll to do a ban's turn fur hfm," Mike Tvcull say when I a.-costM hlin In the ellin evening I!;ht. stealthily hastening up "I'ojrlgeen. with a shovel r.a scythe on Ids arm. . Another evening it would be Rig Murty S.Tulligati. uli.. strode ur the hill with Ms fi;Ul or hi spa1 flung, across his ehouidrr. " Tis late you are goin? to work. Jdurty!" "Why. then, it is that. yr honor." Murty won Li answer wlth'a sheplfh mi!. 'fjt there's an owll man above h.ere mebe ye've heard v him wan 3aly; an 'ti in the led he is all his time, wid pln In th bones v him; n'. rure. 'tis as good for me to give him a lian' now an thin." On thee occasions Big Murty always frpoke as if old Daly were a mere casual acquaintance, whom, '..probably, I did rot har with hyn; and I ljked him for

this little conceit. Well, he knew that Owen Daly and I wer old friends, but In his eagerness that his services to the old man should pass unnoticed lest they should in any way h connected with Norah. he persistently Ignored my acquaintanceship with the little household on the hill, and never mentioned the Klrl he was serving" for. So, for many a. day. the old man lived In comparative luxury. All the reward his willing workmen sought was half an hour's chat by the turf fire, while Xorah sewed next the candl? at the window. They never met. these two men at least, not at first. Once, when driving out. of the village in the dusk for my father would take me to distant sick, calls to hold the rnare we met Mike slouching down the hill carrying his spade, and with only a very surly "goodnight" to fling to us. Iter, as we passed Daly's, there was Big Murty In his shirt-sleeves, digging briskly in the growing light of the moon, and lilting a verse from "Lannigan's Pall." T knew then that he had forestalled his rival; and felt sorry for Mike, who was my favorite. But on another evening it was Rift Murty who flung past, trying to conceal a pair of shears beneath his flannel wrapper, and afterward I had a glimpse of Mike on his knees by Daly's turf rick, busily stripping the wool from a struggling sheep by the light of a blear-eyed lantern. Tie had won the race that time. It was on a misty October evening 'hat I saw them next, as J took a short t oyer (""orrigrnore Hill, and came out by Daly's borreen. There they were both of th'm-storing turnips in a pit at the end of the yard. I stayed a whi'-' to chat with them and watch them. They didn't speak to each other except, to suggest or recommend something connected with their work: and thn their eyes never met as they took counsel concerning the business In hand with an appalling solemnity. Once Norah came to the cottage door. Instantly they both raised iheir eyes to look, but turned tht'in on each other at once each to see if the other saw then ashamed of bing mutually convicted of spying, their heads fell over their work aain, and were not raised until the girl had disappeared indoors. Though J was orly a boy in my '"teens." I was so struck by this little scene that I hi:ve never forgotten it; and at the time I realized, as far as a hov cn realize siu-h. things, how deeply these nvn f ?1 1 . After that I often managed to pass old Daly's of an evening, and now I can piece together the glimpse T had of the tragedy that was working itself out with Mike Doolan's story, and was told nie long years after. bays, weeks and months sped by. but if cvt r there wore nee. of ih" work of ni' n's hands at the little homestead' on Vrrigrtore. there were the two figures on" bj. and burly, the otlvr small and slight plying spade, scythe, or flail in the dusk. There was a t n it agre r.vMU finally, so I learned, that hn there was work to be done "above," one or both would bo there as s "m as their own work st thfni free. "Atiove" was th littl" cottage on the hill, and by that term it always Went on the rare occasions on which cither had to mention it to the other; to everybody el.-e it was the usual "owld Owen Düly's." They spoke no a word of love to Norab. who would sit demurely sewivg or knitting when old wrn had one cf thr.i in tby never were in th cottage b gs-tPT to rain th;ink and blessirps on the head that c.'.rrd lcs for nil the hotuFons of the saints of heaven than for one glance of one woman of earth: and that-a slight, barefoot ( : girl, who was herself all she could bestow on any man. "I.ord love ye," the old man would say. "'tis yp'ro pood t the pore! Heaven'll give ye veer reward, for 'tis for the love av heaven ye dig the bit av Uirl widout. Divil a wan o" me that can give ye annythincr. an' 'tis ye that known that t-ame!" Then the hyproc.it e at the hearth would bend his guilty head lower, and Fteal a sld-?Iong glance at the long back lashes, which on these occasions were never raised to ur.veil the deep Kray eye. And so i hey waited. Owen Daly was old and fepble. but, as long as he" lived, so long would his grandchild dwell with him. his only comfort and the dearest thing in the world to him. It was no use f r the boys to walk in on a Sunday, uncomfortably splendid in their best coats and ravishing ties. In vain was their respectful deference to ".Mit h r Daly, sor;" of no avail their anxious lnouiries, "An" how are ye gettln' the health ag'iu. this fine weather?" The simpl-heartad old man gratefully made suitable reply, and graciously recounted the symptoms of the past week, calling on his granddaughter to bar witness to the truthful record of the same and to the gratifying sympathy with which it was received. Sometimes a neighboring farmer would come "in deadly earnest to seek encouragement in his wooing from the maiden on the hill. and. at such a crisis, a strange instinct never failed to bring Mike and Rig Murty on the spot. Then they combined their forces, and Joined to rout the invader. Should he linger for a whole day. he would nwr get a chance of seeing the object of his visit alone, and rarely managed even to include her in the conversation, for one or the other of his rivals never left his side, while both displayed a marvelous rc source? of conversational power in his hrnor. Thii. wooed covertly on all sides but openly on none, pretty Xorah Fly went about Iter duties demurely from day lody: Big Murty Mulligan would have readily sought hits fate at her hands, had he any hojM? of her deserting her grandfather, or of the latter leaving his old heme to dwell with a son-in-law: for 'hadn't Murty a cott-ige with a stairs in it a real stairs, not a ladder and two acres and a quarter of land, besides the cutter that lay below in th haven beneath Mike Doolan's- cottage? Murty was well off, wih no one but his old mother to provide for. and a little money In the bank at liantry. lie was a fine fellow, too. and many a girl would be proud to have such a man to take her to mass and fair, though his "hair was more red than brown, and his eyes might have been a darker gray. Hut while Murty had himself, and the land, and the cutter, and the cottage with the stairs to offer. Mike Doolan 'had only himself, a shanty with no stairs for there was nowhere to go up to except the thatch and one big. bare, stony Held. Mike would brood over this difference In their fortunes when he came out of his door in the morning, and the first thing he pan- was Rig Mulligan'r. cutter, with her great brown sail with th? patch of dirty white in the middle, flapping lazily in the breeze ait hir tery feet. Many an oath did Mike, in tne bitterness of his heart, launch down the rocky side of t'orrigeen Hi'.l at tbe cutter that rested on the water like a great moth drying the dews of night from its brown wings. Why did he persist in thinking of Xorah Daly? Sure, when the ,M man die.. Hjg Murty would have no lather at all, only to take her by the h.md atid tarry Iter off to the priest. And what could he wy? Nothing at all. except that he'd give the bhd or his heart for her always; yes, even though she married Murty! Rut that would be ii use since he hadn't the money. Nevertheless, with all his philosophy, Mike went on loving and slaving for the girl. So did Murty. It was the old story, only there were two Jacobs serving for the one Kachel, and the end was to b srw.ner. For one morning when the usual little knot of loiterers basked In the pun at the dispensary window ome one lounged up with the news that Owen Ialv was dead. Rig Murty and Mike wr there at the tim. but when the rest murmurM their regret and recalled the virtues of the dad man they said not a worJ; only their eyes met for one Instant, and each retd in thf burning look of th other a declaration of war;

.then, with som muttered excuse, they lft the talkers and went their different ways. They met aeain that niht at the cottage on the hill, where Owen Daly wa being waked by his friends ard neighbors. For many a day they had not been tinder th roof together, and now they sat staring Into the glowing turf fire, and never raising their eyes except to throw a glance, full of pity, at the slender figure bowed in an agony of grief where the head of the dead man lay. As the night grew the little cottage filled with a sympathizing crowd of men and women, and whisperers grew bolder until the room was a buzz of conversation; but still the two men sat motionless, each striving to look into the future and binding himself by all the oaths he kriew to accomplish his end "by means fair or foul. AH through that night and the next they sat, torn by passions and racked by conflicting hopes: while between them the dead body, in which like passions and like hopes had once dwelt, now lay resting cold and still a grim contrast to the living. On. the third day was the funeral, and after that things went on as usual, only it was known in the village that, within a week, pretty Norah Daly was leaving the place, to live in Macrooni with an aunt who had come to bury "owld Owen." and still stayed wdth her niece. Then the two men knew that they must ktn-w their fate immediately or lose all nope forever. It was the fourth night after the funeral when Mike buttoned Iiis coat to withstand the driving rain. and. with bis teeth set. stepped out of his cottage Into the darkness. His mother covertly watched 1dm go without showing the slightest interest in his movements until the door closed behind him. and then, in a moment, she was on her knees before the little crucifix that hung over tha settle, wildly entreating the Rlessed Mother for her sou's safety and welfare. Meanwhile, Mike strode down the hill, through thi village, and up the hill of rrit;more. taking a. longer path along the edpe of the cliff that went sheer down to tit" beach below, for he wished that no one might know of his visit. The rain had stopped now, and the moonlight came fitfully through the clouds that the bellowing southwest trundled down the sky. Half-way ro-md the hill Mike turned to climb the slope, that, descending on the other side, he tniaht approach the cottage from the back. As he faced the hill, a tigure appeared on the sum

mit, hurrying down the very path he was to take, an 1 by the lieht of the moon, which at last had found an opportunity of giving the earth all her rays. Mike recognised the broad shoulders and swinging gait of Rig Murty Mulligan. He paused where he was. on the edge of the cllrf where, thirty feet below, th" dripping mcks and slimy gravel shon like silver in the silver lifrht: and. further out. the great Atlantic leaped madly up the hv.ch to drag tho screaming shingle .lown. Xot until he wn Within a few paces of the stationary figure did !?ig Murty seoni to it. Then he stopped short, and Hinging hihat to the la k of his head, wipe,; the perspiration from his 'now with th" ' back of his hand and Mike :-aw that he was pale as death, while his eyes seemoi starting from their sockets " 'Tis late ve're walking out." said Murtv, staring full into the other's face. "'i lather hau versilf." answered J Mike, returning the stare ilclhntly i "An' mebbc. now." said Murty sarj ca?tica;iy. "I might make so b uild as to I glss where ye're goin'?". That s no business at all av ye is. Murty Mulliean." said Mike shortlymoving as .f to conti! tie his way. Rut Rig Murty steppr-d in his path, his eyes flashing from beneath his seowding brows, and his deni-hed teth showing white between his lips. For a miuut" they facd each other in the tn nüslit. while thir do-p breathing c'tni-" faster and louder, and the storm of passion that was rising in their bm:ts pivw .ironse"-;-and fiercer till it held complete mastery over botb. "Why should I l- t e conv or go?" hissed Murty at length, as if talkinp fo himself. "1 tell ye let me pass." said Mike fiercely, "stepping forward ar.d roughly shoving his nppoi'dit. Hut Hif: Mul'lnn hardly Stirr"d: h only leaned forward to peer inure closely into th" other's face. with eyes that yet seamed to gl-i:v at nothing -and grasping Mikr's uplifted arm like a vise, aiiain lie biased softly to himself: "Why should I let ye come or co?" For a moment tky stood thus, fierce hatred burning in ttrMr ts, till the si seemed calling to them to strike, the wind screaming P then to kill, and all the niglit crie! miird r: Then they olo.-rd and sought each other's throat. To an I f;o in the moonlight they swayed and stumbled, breathing in long laboring schs. striving and straining each to get the other down in the grass, whs-re he mtht kneel on his chest and strangle his life away with both hau. is. Now the bigger man prevailed, now tho smaller, and the end was far from near when Murty managed to snatch his sailor's knif from its leather sheath, and struck his opponent prone on the grass, with the blood that looked black In the moonlight gushing from his tempi. The ncht of the dark stream on the white face hall buried in the grass, ar.d the warm sticky dampness on his lingers, made Rig Murty aim. st mad. He kicked the prostrate form savagely twice, ar.d then with a wild exulting cry, flung away thQ weapon, and stooping down seized the foot of th unconscious man to drag him to the edge of thi cHIT. which was but a few yards off. He dragged him to the very edge, and stooping lower, exerted all his strength to cast the body down on the rocks lnenth. Rut Mik?'s coat had caucht in something a stump of furze, perhaps and with an oath. Mulligan lent all his strength to another attempt. The next moment there was a hoarse cry, and Rig Murty Mulligan fell backward? over the olifT. Mike Iiln's Iwwt firmly grasped In both his hands. A sickening thud on the rocks below, and a groan that was lost in the roar of wind and sea, and the fray was over. In thrt early morning some fishers, taking a short cut to the shore, found Mike iMtolan lying with his head in a. great crimson stain on the grass. They raised him pittifully, and were bearing him away when some one, catching sight of the signs of the struggle that showed in the trampled turf, peeped curiously over th? cliff, and drew back immediately with an oath half smothered with horror. After a shrinking glance at the awful object below, four of the party hastened down to the beach by a steep zigzag path further on. With hated breath and dry lips they raised Rig Murty, telling each other in whispers that there had been "bad work betune thlm two, an' 'twas the way Mike Doolan. Heaven forgive him. threw Rig Murty over list his sowl this night!" For they thought Murty was dead, while Mike still breathed. Mulligan's cottage was nearest, and thither they bore the two men. A crowd seemed to spring up immediately round the low doorway, and half-a-dozen eager messengers sought the priest and doctor the latter of whom, my father, reached the spot first, just In time to help to hold Murty' mother, who struggled to wreak her vengeance on the prostrate form of Mike Doolan. When the room was cleared of all save the priest and the old woman who now knelt weeping by her son's head, feebly wiping the blood from bis lips with the hem of hr apron, and lovingly murmuring to him as if she saw )efore her. not the stalwart form of a mm, but the baby she had nursed thirty years before my father made his exaniinätlon. Soon the verdict was known. Rig Murty was suffering from internal Injuries that would probably prove fatal, though he miglit recover consciousness before the end. while Mike wa.s safe, except that he would never use on of his eye again. Presently the door was opened to a peremptory knock, and Mike's mother was kneeling by him. while an astute looking police sergeant whispered with Father Murphy. Fortunately the. two women did not meet, for Rig Murty lav on his led In the inner room, while Mike was propped up on the settle in the kitchen. The day wore on. and still he watchers watched. The good priest waited that no might 1 at hand.to hrlve the dying man when conscious

ness returned, and thrt officer in the hope of obtaining a deposition from him In the preschte of lhy father, who was a magistrate. At last, with a great sigh, Rig Murty. Mulligan opened his eyes, and feebly tried to spit the blMj from his mouth, and the sergeant beckoned Mike, who sat in silence by the turf fire, into the sick-room "Have ye any charpe to make ag'iu this man?" asked the oftlor, as Mike stood sullenly Razing from his bandages at his foe Murty, turne! his head slowly to look' at him. and when their eyes met a scowl settled on his features, and he seemed about to speak: but the priest, who kneeled by his side, whispered something to "lim, and the scowl changed to a löVik of awe. From one to the other he looked, the awe and the evil striving for mastery in his face, until at last he turned his face wearily to the wall and muttered: "Iev me be av. bile." For nearly ten minutes no one stirred, and the silence was broken only by the low walling of the mother and the muttered prayers f the kneeling priest. Then Rig Murty turned his head slowly back and looked Mike full in the face with a scowl of intense hatred. Struggling to speak, he raised his clenched rieht hand on high to denounce his hated rival; but his mother, raising her head from the pillow, saw only the hand stretched above, his head, and silently drawing a little crucifix from her bosom, put It into the tightly locked fingers that mechanically opened to clutch it. When he held it he glanced upward, and again the awe filled his face, and he slowly drew it down until it. was before his eyes. It was a little black cross, carved from bog oak. on which hung the body of the dead Christ, and as the dying man gazej at it, all the evil ,fied from his face, and great tears forced themselves from his swollen lids. For a minute he lay thus, until a great sob tore his bosom, and. kK'drg the cross, he looked up with eyes that were softened and sad. yet not altogether sad. and. speaking with a painful effort, said in a low. husky voice: "Mike Doolan mustn't be bleamt fur this. 'Twas all ni" that done it to meself. Mi key, boy, will ye forgive me be-fv-re I go'."' At the first words Mike's face showed nothing but surprise, but when he heard the broken voice calling him by the old name he hid not heard since they were boys together, he Hung himself on his knees by the bedsid with a choking cry. and seized the great brown hand that w.-'s extcnled to him. "Whist, Murty. avic." he cried: "sure I had murther in my heart. I had." "'Twas nv that vexed ye." said the othr slowly: "an' I'd have "kilt ye then, on'y fur the boot av ye com in (iff in mc ha n's. glory be to bd." "Hould. bould. Murty. dear." sobbed Mike, with his head bowed low over his friend's hand. "Don't ye shpake like that. Sure. (Jod knows 'tis I hnd murther in niA hart. Tell nc ye have me forgiven, now:" " 'Tis ye that must tell tint to toe; 'twas I thst vexed ye." repeated Murty. "'Listen till I tell ye" continued he slowly. "I was comin' back from the eot-tpe-o whin I met ye. Ye know what car-

Tied me there. Well, she towld m I i had ne'er a chance at all wid her, and whin I got mad. an rippd out a curve at ye, she up an' bid nie gjt out av her sijrht altogither; an' thin I knew 'twas ye was the man. an' be the time I ind ye on the eliff I was putty nigh mad. Hod forcive :ne." "Sure He will. He will. Cod is good." "Wait awhile: there's worse than that." said Murty feebly, wiping the. blood v froth from his lips with the back of his hand. "Whin 1 opened ni- eyes I Via" Ii.' went on. after a pause, "an seen ye stan'icg be th fut av the bed. Iii divil took hould av me ag'iu. an' I knew 1f I towld thini that yc threw me down on th" lieach to murther in", that ye'd swing fur it sure, an' niver git hr afther all. 1 made up me mind to accuse ye before thim all. an' I lying there wid me fac to the wall: but whin I turned to t" n,e wid me n.t up. to hiven find forgive me I found the little rrucitix In c.i linn": an' whin 1 took a look at it. an" sp?n th b!-ss"d .fesu? wid His r.oip arm .tlirolrhrd out to F-ave us all. I sure I couldn't do it praise be to t;od. I couldn't do it." There was a p3U?e for a moment. Fvrry one was now kncMTsr round the narrow i l e. . 1 "t;ive us a suu ef coll water. Mikev. bey." g.i'ped Big Murty. "I'm dyin" tü v. an" hef..-e I confess 1 w:int to mike a will. Ye haven't much t- support a wife. Mike, hu; I M put ye In the way av it please (lol. Will ye be so kind, sor." tcrnhig to my father, "as to write down on a, bit av paper thit Murry Mulligan v ids the cutler below in the bay to Michael Toohm, an' all that's in her. along wid the tw; ounces av tob toco that's hid under a hiKkot beneath the tiher av her? An" keep her head a trifle to th1 starbouxl. Mike, when the wind's behind ve; stlio have a bid warrant to go shtraiglit." Many a year has sped since the dying man sought to make reparation at the last, but if you sMnd in the breezy graveyard on a Sund.iv morning you will se tho cutter below at her old moorings, resting after the week's work; and when first ni.iss is over, there ;ir? always two figures a man and a woman kneeling by yonder grave praying for the soul of Rig Murty Mulligan. All the Year Hound. A Dainty Utile flock. One e'f the common little bee clocks can metamorphosed into as dainty a little timepiece as ever graced a boudoir. To do- this the Household directs the purchase cf a clock that has a brass instead of nickel case, and upon the glass that covers the dial paint around the edge a wreath of single flowers In their natural colors nine forgetmenots, purple violets or small pink daisies are the AN ATTRACTIVE TIMKPIECK. prettiest flowers to use, and either one is selected according to the color that you wish to have. A bunch of the flowers are grouped In the center of the glass directly over the place where the hands are fastened, and tiny sprays of the same are painted e.ver the sides and back of the clock. On the ring at the top satin baby ribbon of the shade of the flower used Is tied in a ro3 tte of bows. Diet, t DrncD, V Mrs. Itorer. the princes' of corks, hit the nail on the head and stunned half the women at the New York food show when she said: "If you want your hus-b'-ind and children to lx well and good, diet them. The age Is suffering from stoma ch l rouble. I firmly believe that science will take out a bad stomach as a tonsil is removed, and the emancipated patient will live and be happy. Sick people don't want to be drugged: they need to b- dieted, and the medical profession know it too." Seeing- I Helle Intt, . Oculist "Have you faith in my ability?" Tatlent "Oh! yes bltnd faith." Hallo. Itevlned tfiafory. " Teacher "What did 'aeaV say when Brutus stabbed him?" Bright Boy "Ouch!" Hallo. ,

"k :'!"i!

OLD TIME PRIZE FIGHT

that ocrmnFi) karIjV i. thi: (iiMinv. Charlotte Tlrontr'n I'nrlr One of ihr I'rlnrlpnls nnd Sam t'larke Hie Other n Krn Making Ktc-nt fur the People of t'onnlr Dotrn, : . The following account of a fight which took plate in 1 SU will 'be found particularly interesting reading. One of the principals was Welsh Hronte, Charlotte Bronte's uncle, and the report ejf the battle is taken from Dr. William Wright's "The Brontes in Ireland," an entertaining yolume just issued by the Appletons of New York - The fight took place in County Down, Ireland, within a short distance of the birthplace of Charlotte's father, and all his brothers and sisters. The account, prefaced with an explanation of the origin of the trouble, is as follows: The great fight between Welsh Bronte and Sam Clarke of Bi llynaskeagh was an era making: event. The contest took place long before my time, but I had a precise-and full account of the battl from two eye witnesses, John and Jamen Todd. No encounter of the kind in County Down ever made such a noise or left such-a lasting impression. Like the flight of a Mohammed or the founding of Rome, it became a fixed point around which other events arranged themselves. Women would speak of their children as born or their daughters married so many years before or after the fight, and old men. in referring to their ages, would tell how they had been present when Wel?h Bronte licked Sam Clarke, and that they must have been of such an age at that time, jt was one of those famous encounters which only required the pen of f'entaur to si'-e it immortality in epic form. Oriittn of the Trouble. Welsh Bronte had a sweetheart called Peggy Campbell, and she had a little, delicate, deformed brother who used to go to r.allynafern school on crutches Some of the big, healthy boys t hough tlefsly amns?d themselves by tormenting the little crippie. He often arrived home with his clothes torn and daubed with mud. and sometimes showing on his person the signs of the ill-treatment. Welsh had. no doubt, often heard the story of his father's wrongs when a child, and at a hint from Foggy constituted himself the champion of the injured boy. He went to Snm Clarke, who was a near Relative of the offenders, and begged him to interfere. Clarke, who was said to be something of a bully, advised Bronte to mind his own business, and Bronte replied that that was exactly what he was doing, and then Clarke added, as a. threat, that unless Clarke restrained his brutal relatives he would chastise them himself. Hot words enstit d and Bronte and Cl.u k- pat ted with expressions of mutu.il d -fiance. Bronte's blood was up. His s nse of justice was aroused on behalf of th" ill-used child, apd his feelings of chivalry Impelled him to. become the champion ef hi.' sweetheart's brother. Meanwhile the boys were meditating vengeance on their victim, who. in addition to the crime of nick endurance, had. they believed, proven a sneak and a clashing by telling of their misdeeds. A Timely Hceie. Welsh Bronte r. solved to watch the children on their way home from s -hd the following day. He took up his position in a clump of trees somewhere near the glen, lie waited long. but the school children did no; appear, and. thinking that perhaps they had returned home, by another path, he lft his ambush to resume his work. Suddenly he heard hilarious cheerin? and piteous cries, and hurry'ng toward the spot whence th: noise came, he found the school engaged in the ceremony of ducking the clash beg. or lalelearcr. They had taken tbe poor little erippb-'s crutches from him and bad placed him in the middle of a pond of water up to his neck, end then, hazing taken hands, they danced in a circle round the pond, chanting "Clashbeg! cla-shbeg! clashbeg!" Welsh lirniii took in the situation in a glance and captured the biggest two Clarkes before they knew he was nenr. H then . compelled theni to wade into th" pond and support their victim gently to the edg.e. When thv had placed him on the dry ground ho was so exhausted that he could neither stand nor support himself on his ertliches, and I trout o ohliged the Clarkes to carry him h"in on their backs, time about, the water dripping from their clothes. They did as Bronte directed them, but only after considerable chast isement. " The other children had fled home in alarm and had given a colored description of the inhuman manner in which Bronte was treating the Clarkes. Some of them reported that he had .actually drowned them in the pond. On that night a challenge from Sam Clarke reached Welsh Bronte, and it was instantly accepted. The time for angry words had passed and all preliminary formalities were curried out according to rule and with perfect courtesy. Seconds were appointed, the day was fixed, and a professional pugilist who re-sided f.t Newry was engaged to act as referee. Both men went into close training, and fthe event was awaited with the most in tense excitement for ten miles around. The appointed time at last arrived, and it proved to be a line summer day. A crowd numbering jrob;bly 10.000 some estimated the numberat from 30,eoo to r.0,000 assembled.' Thy came . from Xewry, Banbridfco. Rathfriland. Un more, Ililltown. VarrenjK)int, Loughbrickland and other country towns and districts. Such an' assemblage of the Bcoundrelism of that region had never been drawn together, before. But they were not all scoundrels, for public opinion had not at that time affixed the stamp of infamy indelibly to the brutal exhibitions of the ring, and it was said tlat a number of sporting clergymi-n and country gentlemen were present, undisguised and unashamed. Spartan .Mothers. Many circumstances rendered the field famous. The mothers of the combatants had fed their sons like gamecocks. at bread and new milk were the staple food, which were supiosed to give muscle, strength and endurance. Shortly before the tight Clarke's mother, when giving J.-ia his last meal before the encounter, addressed him in the following words: "Sam. my son, may you never get bit nor sup from me more if you do not lick the mcntrrel." ' This spartan speech spread like wildfire through the field and such was the code rd honor on that occasion that the exhortation was much blamed and led to a strong current of popularity in favor of Bronte. The word "mongrel," referring to the fact that her son's antagonist had a catholic mother, was considered unfitting to be used in connection with the neble encounter that was about to take place. Tho ring was roped off in the hollow of a green field. The multitude stood on the rising ground around. Three or four hundred men were enrolled a "special order preservers." They stood in a circle two or three deep. The seconds, referee and umpire were in their places at tho opposite side of the ring. The hour fixed-to begin was 12 o'clock, and prompt to the minute the two combatants strode down leisurely through th" crowd, each with his sweetheart on his ami. Their mothers already occupied seats of honor outside the ring. Clarke was a much older and matnrer man than Bronto and much bigger. Beside htm Bronte, in his tight-fitting homespun, looked slender and overmatched. The champions stepped into, the ring and their sweethearts .with them. As ewh stripped he handed hi clothes to his- future wife, and these two women tood, each with her lover's garments

on her arm, till th matter was decided. Time was not accurately kept, but the baltle was said to liave lasted three or four hours. At first Clarke had lh advantage in strength and weight, but Bronte, who had long arms, was lithe, active and wiry, and he did not seem to weary as tho day wore on. Clarke, however. legan to show signs of fatigue. The spectators thought he was simply husbanding his strength. Throughout the contest not a word was heard, until suddenly Miss Campbell's voj.-e rang out clear in the silence. "Welsh, my hoy, go in and avenge my brother and the 'mongrel T " The minutes must have seemed hours to the girls as they watched their future husbands struggling for victory on that Stimmer day. Peggy Campbell discerned that the hour for the final effort and victory had come. Tbe Bottle Won. Welsh responded like a lightning flash. A few awful moments followed. The spectators held their breadth. Some fainted and others covered their eyes with their hands or turned their faces. Terrific, crushing and crashing blows resounded all over the field, and when blows ceased to resound Sam Clarke was lying a motionless heap in the ring. The crowd after the long suspense and hushed silence Iest all control of themselves and wanted to rush in and chair the victor, but the "special order preservers" held the ring, nnd the sea of human beings surged agairst them in vain. Welsh Bronte declined to receive congratulations until he had deposited his antagonist safely at home in bed. The light was followed by no evil consequences, and Sam Clarke and Welsh Bronte became fast friends from that day forth. From all accounts the fight seems to have been a marvelous display of skill and endurance, very different from the sordid and brutal gambling contests patronized now by the roughs of all classes. Both of the combatants fought with the most chivalrous courtesy and utmost bravery, and the crowd awaited the result with imperturbable impartiality. Xo words above a whisper had been heard during the long afternoon till Bronte's sweetheart sang out hr decisive commands, which in County Down rank with Wellington's "l'p. guards, and at them!" All ware agreed as to the closing scene. During the last few seconds the light became so fierce ar.d furious that the blood of the spectatorsran cold. Nothing like It for wild fury and Titanic ferocity had ever been witnessed by the crowd, and no such battle has ever since or before been fought in County Down. FOR TIIK MTTI.K l'OI.KS.

I'nole Ned's FI1i. "Tonight," said T'nele Ned. as the children clamored for "something new." "I will show you how to make a paper fish which, when put in the water, will wim away as 'hough alive. Cut out your fish from a piece of ordinary paper. Make it two inch"? long and shape it aftr your favorite fish, with fins and tails, so that it will look natural when In the water." With a pair of scissors and from a piece of paper he produced a creditable outline of a fish. "And now." he continued, "measure off an jn.'-h from the head and right to the center of the lish;thcn cut out a hole, as you see me do, the size of a small pea or goose shot. Then draw a straight line from the center of the tail t. the hole: then with your scissors cat along the Hue the whole distance from the tail to the hole. When this is done, cut away a slin below the line sufficient to have a little canal, from the hole t the tail, about the width of a pin's head. Round off the corners where the canal opens at the tail, rut out an opening f.,r the mouth and draw in the eye and scales if you wish, and we have a very line fish indeed.'" exctaimed Uncle Nd, holding it up for inspection. "Now, we should have a long, narrow dih or tub." continued he. "in order to give our fish plenty of room. However, this basin of water will do. If you will watch me closely, you will see that I place the fish on its side upon the water, so that the lower side will touch the water at every point and in order to keep the otixer side perfectly dry. There we have it! Now, if you will wath the fish VPfy closely you will see. that it shows no signs of moving. In order to make It awini there is only one thing neeegrrv, and that is very simple." Uncle Ned then went into the diningroom and got something from it. admonishing all to turn their heads while he did something mysterious. Then tho children turned and watched the fish intently. A moment passed; then the fish moved gracefully away. "Can any one tell me what makes it move'.'" inquired lTncle Xed. "Well, then, I wilt let you into the secret." Here ho produced a cruet of oil. "Drop but one drop of oil carefully in the hole in the center of the fish, I have done. After a little while the oil seeks an outlet, and running down the canal spreads on the water and impels the fish ahead. This is why It seems to go without any visible cause to propel it. ".'. Y. World. The- Shnttereil liottle. ' An up town woman had just bought a lottle of delicious perfume, jjhe was leaving the store when some one lruhed ni'ielv atrainst her ami knocked the package from her grasp. It fell to the pavement with a crash, and in a moment the air was filled with a sweet odor. She looked at the shattered fragments a moment, and then seeing that nothing could be saved out of the wreck i-he walked awav. leaving several people who had witnessed the accident to smile at the lo?s and enjoy the odor of the perfume. ""ome here. Patsy." shouted one street gamin to another. "Some ones lot her tmellin' hott'e." Tmph!" sflid Patsy. "It's Just like soap, hain't it?" and the two stood niftmg the odor like do.s after a rabMt. The sweet-fcentet litpiid flowed across the pavement and formed a Utile pool. Attracted by the crowd, a little flower girl came skipping up. The odor of the perfume greet oil her. "Oh, It's sweeter than my posies.' she said, and kneeling down she dipped her little bo'i'ius In the liquid nn.l then held thm up to those who la'iphlncly nat'tiwl her. She sold them alL-rhlladclphia Tress.

i , I. 1 v S A4 ; mi

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a- r pa fWSiäM Meine iff Iii ÜJ For Internal nnd Kstepiuil I e. In uing medicines to stop pain, wa shoiiid avoi I s'icli as intlic? iri iry en th system. Opium, Morphine. "niornferm. Ether, rocnir.e and t'hloral o-n pain in destroying the. sece of perception, the rati, nt loMcg th pwer o:' feeling. Th'in a most destructive practice, it masks the symptoms, shuts up, and. instead of removing trouhle. 1 i aks down tl - Monaco, liver and liowels. and. if continued for a length of time, kills the iv-rvo anl produces local or general paralysis. There is no necessity fur using these uncertain iients- when n positive r- ml' like KADYVAY's: HKAOV KKI.IKr -will stop the most excrucia:irv? prf'n O'i'cker. without entailin-- the least dnner. m, either infant or "adult. It instantly stop the most excruciating pain, allays inflammation and cures congestions, whether of tne Limes. Stomach, Uowels, or other yiands or mucous membranes. RADWAY'S. READY RELIEF ( im;s am rm: kts Cold. Cough, Sore Throat, Intlornia, It hen inn f in in. eurnlgia, llcmlnclie, Toothache. thmii, IiMicult Urea tli Ins; CURES THE Worst PAIN'S in from one to twenty mirotes. Not one hour after reedicjr tri f-.d verttsernent neel any one SUFFER WITH PAIN'. ACMES ATJD PAIMS Uor headache whether sick or nervous), toothache. neuraJgia. rheumatism, lumbago, pains and weakness in th b:ck. spine or kidneys, pains areuni the 11 "er. pleurisy, swelling of the joint and pa'ns of all kinds, the ar-ohcation of Uadwny's Re.-ijy Relief will afford Imme U.ite eise, and its continued u-e for a K-w d..ys cfTect a permanent cur?. Strong: Tmllmnnr of Ciulgrnnt Com ml Mlnner. the Hon. Oeoriie. Starr, ni to t he Power of Endway'i Ready Jtelief in it e of Scinilu Ithenlo at Im. No. r, Van Nfs I'iace. New York. Tlr. RatXviy Wit h me your Relief has worked wond'-rs. For the last three year I have Lad Jieouent and severe attacks of sciatica, oireiimes extending from th lumbar fmons to my ankles, and at tiiats to both lower limhs. Düring the time 1 have i,en afflicted I have tried aJmost all th remejie rcommonde by wise men and fool.-., honing t f.r.d relief, hut all proved to be fa.lU.res. I have tried vanou ktnig of baths, manipulation. ooi ward application of linuments too numerous to mention, nnl prescriptions of the nvjt eminent physician, all of which failed to give nie relief. T-.ast Sepin-.ler. at the urirent r-juiit ef a friend twiio i-rvi ben afilicteO a myivlf). 1 was- induced to try your reaieiiv. I rat then suffering fearfully with one of my old turn. To my surprise and delight tho first application give n- ease, after bathing and ruling tn pirrs affected, leavlrf? the limbs in a warm glow. c:vat-v by thRelief. In a shor time th p.iln pHsei entirely away. Although 1 have siira periodical attack1 approaching" a change of weatner. I knew niw now to cur mvself. and feel cjclte r.iiter of the situation. RADWAY'S r.KAPY RKLTRF 1 iuy friend. I never travel without a ix-ttle In my valise. Yours truly, GEO. STARR. "WORTH ITS AVF.UWIIT IN r.CI.r. AUGUSTA, GA. Dr. Rad way T have tried all the varl"i; kinris of remedies that thy hae on tbe rruirkf-t without effect, when T finally prw worse, and a friend a JviseJ me to try your Ready Relief. I did So. applyil.C to m f ankle and knee. b.kI. to my s'-rp'-ls". wa able to resume my duties next tnnrni: c. rly trov.hle was rheumatl.-m of lone s:an iincr. I shall never be without R. If. Tl.. or its w.-iqht in piM. My mother cured by K. It. fi. i" two liouia .r rle-u-malism "in iu-r s!ioiiKt. W. 11. CoOPKR. of Cooper & Kvarn. INTERNALLY. Krem so to C.-t drops in hn!f a tiiTTiV.lee nf water will, in a few ni rant. cme 'r;uiiT. Spasms. Sour Stoniach. Nans. a. Von-.it r.-z. 1 leaf! burn. Nervousness. Sl'e;..'--s!-ew Sick: Headache. Diarrhea. Dysentery, Cholera Morbus. Colic, l'latuicncy, ai'.d uil interna! pains. FALARiA, Chills and Fever, Fever and Ague Conquered. "Fever and Asuo enrd for Fifty Cent. There is not a remedial spent in this world th.it will cure Ier and A cue anl ail other malarial, bilious, ar- l oth'-r fevers nid. i bv R.idway's Rills) as quickly as Radwav's Ready Relief. l'ri.-e":."e per b.ttle. S -Id by drusists. ft Sarsaparillian Resolvent. THE GREAT BLOOD PURIFIER. FCR THE CURE GE CK DISEASE, Chronic T tbeuma t ism. Scrofula. Unoklnc Prv Couch. Cancerous Affections, ):i0e.ilnc of "the Lungs. White Swehioj. Tumors, iiin Disease. UrolichttJS. onlv .loes th ursa7ri.rir,.nn Insolvent excel" all reioedi.il ae:ils m the euro cf Chronic. cV.e.Ulou, Cor.i?utionl and Skin I lipases-, but it is tli only JkIUV cure for kidm:v ml m.AUDi.K (omphiits. Gravel. KiRheb-. Kroj'sv Stoppa? of Witter. Incontinence of l rine. Hriftt IMseise Albuminuria, a:. J Im li ci-i ..here there ate bMck dust .boosit.s. or the watcr 1 thick. clovJy. mix--! with sv.l,'tances. like the h:te lrf an e,-. or tnr,.. like white silK, or there is a, morb'il. dark, bi'lou- r.i.aratice. and white bo-.ie dust d-bo-m. and th :i there is a j.ri kliuir. burnirur eo-iation when rnini; water, and .mi in the fmail of the back and aloni; the loins. Ur IIa?' Stirmiinirillin Itesol. c n t . reme-lv cotrp-ivel of incre.lient of fxaordin;.ry medi. .il j o. j ..-rt i , . mbl tr .,rl:v befl . te.;ur u id ln!c"rate t!ns broken 'down arvi wtd t.Nly. .":uk. ol.-isint safe and ferm. merit in it m-it. nvnt and cure. Sold by ad drugsi-t. One Hollar a Rottle. mum Tnre!y vect-tible. le.ild nnd rcb.iVe. Cans.? I'erfeet I !, sti. ii. cojep'.eie absorption aud healthful recul.irity. Cor th cure of all disorders of the Stomach. Itoweln. Kidney. I.Hdb-r, Nervous Diseases, Co.etiveiiev. 1'iles, mck n: n t iit:. " i-r.Mn; (o'ii'btiM. IMII(.ITU)X, 0iTIPTIO. I MM'.I'I . AND - am. nisouncit or thi: i.ivi:n. Observe the following symptoms resulting from diseases of the dietive onstris; constipation. Inward piles, fullness of blood m the he;d. acidity of the totn.-ic'i. nausea, heartburn, dinust of food, fullpess er weicht of the stotrMch. Mur etu,--tatlon. tdr.klnc or flutteriiiR of tne htrt, rhoklr. or s;it't'oc!tle.r "n;itions wbr-n in a Ivint; posture, dim;i -- eT i(nn, dots r wbs before the s!ci't. feyer ani .bid pmn in the head. oV'i.-ienoy of perspiration, yellor.ness cf the skin anl eyes. pin in the side, chest, li.nbs. and sudden Hushes of be;it. burninc io the flesh. A. few dose; cf R AUW AY'S Til. LS will free the sjsbni of all the alove tuinici (ilseritcrs. Pric?, 25 Cents ?er fcox. ; Sold 6y Druggists. Send to litt. RAI) W A V Ac CO.. No. Wurreii-i-t., New Yoi'K. lor IJ-joU of Advice. -

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1TI ho tfoTilrl

111!

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