Smilug Star and Cathosle Meosof r .
1SW O314A' IUNVAT. MAY 5, 336.,
frowa-up men and women Tor seratrand de
"'hat sounds libke aying that Irhab men and
women are nothing better than children. What
do eu call me "
"ardl as grown-up as some people. Bat,
idet, 7 only meant our uneducated, wild.
Want country peopls bere."
"I am very much obliged to you for living
o ouch a philosophioal reason for coming to
h soon0alaion that oar honsehold will never
work well together. Tou can't blame me now
ior what I have come to tell you. Anne, I have
given t all op. I made up my mind last night
and told my wife, so there is no geing hlek
mow. I am golng to turn absentee. Being
sonvieted of iuncapacity to manage my own af
fair by my brother-is-law, I have consented
to put them into the bands of an agent of his
hooeing, who is to live at Catle Daly and keep
a tight hand over the tenants, while we pas
our time in England or abroad-till Pelham
It of age, at all event. 'Now why don't you
oeIlaim-why don't you remind me that I
have sworn a hundred times that nothing
ebonld Induoe me to skulk out of the country
esod leave my people to the mercy of a
otrauger Where's your inodignation '
"You said you had made up your mind, and
coold not go hback."
"That's no reason for not abusing me. Come,
nyeomething, good or bad; nothing is so omt,.
one as silence from you."
"What can I say but that it is a very sodden
reselution 1"
"Not so sudden as it seems. For years I
have been gradually pushed towards it. You
don't know the force of a persistebt wish in
the mind ef a person with whom yon have to
pas all your days, and whom you are always
ying and failing to satisfy with somethitng
eLse. There is an overpowering mesmerism in
it. The moment comes when the temptation
to end the silent struggle of wills becomes too
strong to be resisted. Anything for peace, one
saysat lat."
But will it be peace t Won't you begin to
have a persistent wish to get home again ?
eow shall yeu feel i'
"Good for nothing, and miserable; but what
of that i My wife tells me she has been miser
able here for twenty years, and thinks it is my
tarn now. There should be give and take in
matrimonial arrangements, should there
not r"
"I cannot but think she might be made hap
py here, if only- "
"Let me fnish your sentence---'if I had done
my duty and been prudent years ago.' "
'No, if you woueald begin to do yourduty and
be prudent now. 8hut up Castle Daly by all
means, if you can't as indeed I know ou can't,
raord to live in it; but don't leave the neigh
borhood. Stay and do the needful work your.
self. I can't imagine why you don't. It is not
lack of energy or want of thought that has
ket youn idle all these years."
"Want of thoughtl No indeed ; it i too
meeh thought-thought that has killed hope.
You talk of my not being grown up. If look
ing before and after is the characteristic of a
man, I am one above others, for I do nothing
else. It has paralysed my hands for other do.
Iag. What is the use of throwing seed into
ground that is ohokeful of dragon's teeth
Thera are harvests of evil to be reaped in this
land before anything else can come; and seeing
that s plainly as I do, I have no energy for
labor. If you were to die tomorrow, Anne,
Good People's Hollow would be a bog again in
afew years, and the people you are trying to
drag up into civilization would be as open as
any of their neighbors to have their passions
ronaed by the first schemer who appealed to
the old grudges and hatreds and wild hopes
that centuries of cherishing have made stron
ger than anything else in their nataree. There
would soon be not a trace of your work left."
"Granted; but what is that tome 1 If I can go
npto Him who gaveme my work, hand in hand
with one brother or sistey whose life I have
made happier and better, it will be enough.
That little bit of good will live as well as the
evil you talk of, and survive it. I have noth
nug to do with the sowing or reaping of other
people's harvests."
S"You are freer than I am, Anne. We come
back to the root of my difioulty again. What
ever other enemies I make, I can't bear to have
foes of my own household; and within the last
twenty-four hours I have come to see that if I
don't yield this point of golong away there will
be a division among us that will make family
union for the future an impossible thing. You
must hear how far the antagonism has gone
before you judge. And that brings me to the
princlpal canse of my being here today. A
tue piece of work of Master Connor's it is that
I have to tell you of. Has not he told you him
self?"
"No. I hope it is not anything wrong
nothing worse than a wild prank that has
turned out ill."
'1t bas turned out very Ill; and unluokily
the prank, if he means it for one, weas aimed at
his brother, who is too like: his mother to be a
bhappy subject for pranks. Pelham, I most tell
you, had a favorite dog sent from England, to
which (as it was a good house-dog, and barked
at beggars) our servants took a thundering
dislike. Unluckily, a few daysafter its arrival
it threw down and seriously bhurt a little boy
who had come to the place on an errand for
Connor. Ellen and Conneor were mad to have
the creature sent away on the instant, and
Pelham just refused to part with it, as well he
might, not choosing to be hectored by his
younger brother. Small blame to him for that,
on'll say. I was too full ofother things that
day to give any heed to these quarrels. Ellen
lays the blame on Pelham's contemptuous
manner ; but, anyhow, Connor's spirit was
roused, and he was resolved to have his way
by fair means or foul. lie connived wi.h some
of the servants to get the dog out of the yard,
and carried it off himself and gave it into the
keeping of two men well noted in the neigh
borhood for mischief-Pat Ilanalan and Red
haired Dennis, whom the guagers have been
hunting from hill to hill the lest twelve
months on acoeunt of a clever little still they
have between them. I confess I've a sort of
kindnems for the rogues myself, and can't be s
angry with Connor for oolleagning with them
s I ought to be, for many a laugh have he
and I had together over stories of the o!ever
shifts they've been put to. Dennis profesee
to feel himself safe on my ground, and consid
er that he has a sort of claim on my protec
tion for having long ago found Pelham, when
be had strayed away from home and was lost
on a bog, and brought him safe back to the
Castle. Maybe I have winked at his misdeeds
long enough to make it seem hard that one of
my hoousenold bshould turn on him-Pelhsm,
too, who might have thought that he owed
him a kindnese."
"But I don't understand yet. How do you
keow that Connor gave up Pelham's dog to
those men ? And it he did, what harm has
eome of it "
"I'm ooming to that if you'll let me. We did
not connect Connor's absence with the dieap
pearanoe of the dog at tirst. Ellen told as he
had gone to you, and I thought it was to work
off a fit of the sulks. My wife and Pelham,
skilfully misled by the hint. of a sharp your
groom who I strongly suspect wae in Connor's
secoret, need their suspicions on a beggar-we
muan and a pedlar who had been about the
plaoeon theday of theaooident. My energetio
robher-in-law went off in haste to set the con
stableo on the track of these people. It was a
wrong olue, but it led to the right game. As
the constables, with Pelham at their head,
were soonring the ooontry, they heard the bay
ing of a hound, as it seemed, far down in the
centre of a bill. The sound guided them; they
scrambled down a steep cleft in the mountain,
found the entrance to a cave that had escaoped
all prying eyes hitherto, and sueeded in cap
taring not only the plant and the men they
bad been after so long, bot the dead body lof
Pelham's unlucky favorite, who had been pis, a
tolled of course, the instant the distillers bad
as inkling that their enemies were in their I
nelhborhood." a
"So the poor dog wa setually dead f"
"Yes, and the two men are in prison, com- b
mitted for dog stealing, as well as for the other b
offense. Tbhey never breathed Connor's name, I
mind yea, when they were brought before me.
Ellen came out with the story wien she heard
their fate, and you may imagine how disgusted
I was. Connor is the person to blame, but all U
the ill-will will fall to Pelham's share, for he ii
was the moving case of the capture. He did
not even recognize Dennis. He stood by while
tbs constables did their work, saying very lit- k
tIe, I am told, bat showing bitter anger at the w
fate of hib dog. The thing will never be for- g
gotten; it's a story that will stick to those two •4
boys for the rest of their lives here."
"Connor will be bitterly sorry." f
''I hope he will have some comprehension of a
the harm he has done; the thing itself is no b
worse than a dczeson other escapades that have o
paseed unnoticed, but coming Jost at this mo- b
ment, it has been like a spark falling on a ton 0
of gunpowder, and produced a general explo
sion. He could hardly have done anything to E
illustrate more cleverly the evil effects of the b
home eiucation I have insisted upon for him n
and L .len, or to cut every ground of argument, a
for keeping ourselves together, from undermy fi
feet. Last night, after Ellen's confession, it ti
all burst out-my wife's long-suppressed wish a
to leave the place, and disapproval of my in- n
dolgence of the younger children; my bro'ber- it
in-law's pious horror at my debts and extrava- t4
gance. Small blame to me, I think, if I turn
ed tail in the combat, and owned myself beaten as
at last. My own sweet colleen came in for her n
share of the storm with her father. They w
blam. her for keeping Conner's secret so long. 9]
If I can work myself. up into a proper state of
anger against him, it will be by thinking of k
the state of her blue eyes this morning. Well, Il
since I can't protect her from blame, let them p
try their hands and make her asmnch of an a
Englishwoman as it's in her to be. When we n
all come back again, if we ever do, there will a
be less excunse than there is now for our split- o
ting into an English and an Irish faction, b
whose chief interest in life is to find fault with
each other. Connor will have broken with his o
old associates, and will not stand out in such V
contrast to Pelham as to lead to perpetual re- tl
mark." d
"How bee Pelham behaved about it all T" a
' He does not say much; in fact, the lad o
never opens out to me. dince Connor'sehare in
the plot against his dog came out, he is silent 0
and looks irjured. His mother looks at him, b
and refusae to take any notice of poor Ellen a
when she hovers between the two of them, and ii
offers little services to win a look of forgive- tI
ness. It is as muh as I can bear to see it in A
silenoe; yet Heaven forbid that I should put w
myself at the head of a faction against my wife b
and my eldest son. Now where is Connor I I
must take him home at once. I suppose Peter es
Lynch can mount him t"
"He is down at the stone quarry, expecting ti
a severe lecture, I hope. Shall I summon v
bim 1"
"No, I will walk down to meet him; and tell I
Peter to have the horses ready as I pass 0
through the yard." tl
Cousin Anne lay back on the sofa when she I
was alone, longing for an opportunity to say a
few soothing, peace-making words to her fiery- s
tempered young cousin before he left her; but h
her first glance into his face when he burst g
hastily into the room to say good-bye showed b
her he was in no state for even her words to b
have a good effect, lie entered with a jaunty, f
defiant air, meant to carry off his pale oheeks fi
and eyelids swollen with passionate tears. b
"So, Cousin Anne," be said, "I shall be a
obliged to leave you and Peter to manage the
mending of the three-wheeled oar by your
selves. I'm very sorry, you see, but since I've
been away they've contrived to make a dis
gusting mess of things at home, the idiots!
and I'm wanted to set them to rights."
"Connor, I wish you would let me say a word
to you." t
' No., no, Anne; if you are to begin to im
prove the ocoasion, I vow I'll out my throat or
run away to America and never be heard of f
more. I'd be off this minute, that I would, C
only it would be a shabby trick to leave Ellen
and those poor fellows in the scrape they've
been brought into by interfering idiots."
'Tbhat Son have brought them into, Con.
Yes, it is a very shabby trick not to dare to so
knowledge all the oonsequences of one's own
sets and to bear ail one can of them."
"But, Anne, you know-you know-I never I
meant sueach consequenoes as these."
"The letting out of water, Con; that is what I
the beginning of strife is, you know. Of ooure e
you can never tell where the current will
carry you. I am very sorry for yon. I only
want to persuade you to take your share of i
blame bravely, and then you'll have-got more
than halfway to forgiving other people what
you think they have been guilty of towards I
you and your friends."
"No, I'll stick to my friends, right or wrong.
and would to the end, if it was a man they
had murdered instead of a wretch of an old
our; and I'll never forgive Pelham for despis
ing us all for being Irish. It's that and noth
nlug else he means by all he does, you may take
my word for it."
CHAPTER VII.
"Adieu to evening dances, when merry neilhbors meet.
And the adale says to boys and girls 'Get up and
shake your ueet.'
To 'anschu' and wise old talk of Erinn's days gone
by
WOe trenched the rath on such a hill, and where the
hones may lie
Of saint or king, or warrior chief; with tales of fairy
power.
And tender ditties swretly sung to pass the twilight
hour ;
Tte mournful exile's sorg is now for me to learn."
WILI.LIAM ALLI.,II* AM.
A fortnight passed before either Anne
O'Flaherty or her equipage were in uch a state
of repair as to warranttheir tempting the perils
of the rugged mountain road betwen the Hollow
and the head of the LongE; but as during that
time no direct news of the Castle Daly house
hold'reached her,she made her first expedition
out of her own dominions in that direction.
Peter Lynch had by that time recovered his
I spirits and his belief in his own and his mis
tress' infallhbiity, temporarily shaken by their
ignominions overthrow in the car, and was as
well prepared as usual to entertain her throogh
half a day's journey with contemptuons com
parisons between the condition of their neigh
bors property and the cultivation of the ll-Il
low; but as the way lay chletly through Mr.
Daly's estate, Anne was not in a mood to ac
cept his fltattery es graoioosly as usual. Hier
eyes were suflfoiently open to the tokells of
neglect and mismanagement that Peter eager
ly pointed out, but she oould not look forward
with any satisfaction now to the hope of rem
edy. The pleasure of seeing the low thatbched
farm houses, with their tumble-down barns
and fences, replaced by better buildings; red
"murphys" taking the place of yellow "lump
ere" in the potato grounds round the oabins ;
and an improved breed of pigs ousting the
long-nosed, long-eared Connaught variety of
Sthe animal from its nook In the chimney con
ners, would be lost to her, if the improvements
abe had so long advocated were to be the work
of a stranger. It was almost a surprise to her
when the house came into view at last, to find
it looking Just as usual, with all its doors and
windowsa open to let in the sunshine, and
cheerful signs of oooopation in the gardens and
oourt-yard-she had been so busy pictoring it
to herself as shut up and deserted.
She observed a little group of people stand
ing out in the sonshine before the front door,
when she drove up to the lodge gate. T'hey
had not assembled to welcome her, for they
were all colleeted round another vehicle
drawn up before a side door, which seemed to
await some last arrangements to take its de
parture.
Mrs. Daly was among the grpop, leaning on
. b arm of a stout, midd-aed man, who I
seemed to be sexpoestlating rathber loudly with a
the servants bhanging about the ear; while
Ellen, with her arms piled with pillows and a
abawis, stood a little in the rear. Anne left 1
TbIioteiwifeaEarto i rrlrd a-o the I
back preintes, and exhibited in triumph to a
his acquaintanoes there by Peter Lyneb, and a
walked down the drive to announce herself. 1
Ellen espied her when she was still some I
ards from the house, and impetuously throw- i
ng her load down on the doorstep at her a
mother's feat, rushed to meet her cousin, giv- I
ing her a frantic squeese in her arms before I
she exolaimed, breathlessly, I
' Oh, Anne, Anne,areyou really here Do ou Iy
know that we are to leave Castle Daly in a r
week's time from this e I think I should have
gone wild if you had not come, and I had had i
to leave home without seing yon again." b
"I think yon are wild," sad Anne, looking a
fondly down into her favorite's face, that bad I
a new wistful expreession on It that went to
her heart. "If I bad not come to you, of v
course you would have oome to me. Why, I y
bave been expecting you every day this fort- I
nlght."
It has not been my fault," whispered a
Ellen ; "and I don't think mamma would ever .
have let me go to you again. Do you know, I
my Uncle Pelham was dreadfully scandalized r
at Connor's running away to you, and at you
for keeping him. ln all that has happened he I
thinks you quite as bad as Connor. He says a
almost every day that from all he hears you 8
most be a thorough Irishwoman, and you can't b
imagine what a dreadful creature that means t
to him. Tuere he is, standing by mamma." b
"A fine, goodnatured-looking gentleman," t
said Anne. "I think he will bear the sight of c
me, even in my shabbiest home-made oloak,
without injury to his nerves. Let me go and B
speak to l.m." o
Mrs. Daly advanced a step or two to greet d
Miss O'Flaherty, and Anne thought that the y
last few weeks bad made a change in her ap- a
pearance too. The extreme air of invalidism a
was laid aside, her dress was brighter and f
more becoming, her step had more life in it, as
and there was actually a smile-was it a smile IJ
of triumph T-on her lips, as, laying a passive g
hand in Anne's, she said
"I am very glad to see you are able to come p
out. Mr. Daly was getting quite anxious. ea
We are so busy preparing for our departure tl
that we did not know how to spare a day to
drive to the Hollow. Yet we would not on n
any acoount have left the country for a length i
of time without sayii g g ood-bye to ,ou." I
Anne was well rc.nrooned to the rn.,,, o'asp i
of the hand, .and to thbe pcoouliar sensption of
being looked ast oit ,.t htmlo rooguoe d. with ii
which the mtst.reaei o.s!le 1),! prteioolar d
ised her greetings to her, but the nai!e and i
the triumphant emphasis were something new. s
A fresh, and perhaps a more galling pin-prick V
wound than she had hitherto had to harden a
herself against in that place. a
She would have received the remark in
silence if the sound of an irritated tap of the y
foot from Ellen behind had not warned her I
that it was safest to rush into indifferent con- a
verestion at once. 0
' You are preparing for a departure already, a
I see," she said, stooping down to pick up one It
of the pillows Ellen had thrown down; "and ft
the person you are sending away is an invalid,
I fear, from Ellen's preparations." h
"It is well for Ellen's patients when there is 1j
someone to look after their comforts beside
herself," remarked Mrs. Daly, with a severe e s
glance at certain cushions and shawls that a
bhad rolled down the steep steps and were ti
being trampled under the servants' feet. "A it
few minntes ago she was ransacking the house ii
for comforts for Murdock Malachy, who is to
be removed to the hospital in Galway to-day, v
and you see where her preparations are now. 1
You know, I suppose, Ellen that you threw
down the bottle of wine you begged so hard d
for, and that its contents are soaking your own y
woollen shawl down there." s
"Mamma, you will let me have another," a
pleaded Ellen, her eyes full of tears, and her
face one crimson glow of shame and mortifica
tion. "I know Im very silly, but indeed I
could not help it when I saw Cousin Anne." d
' Cousin Anne is not much obliged to you
for pleading the sight of her as a sufficient ex- f
cuse for sillinees I think you might have I
found something pleasanter to say about her I
on her first introduction to your uncle."
"Come, come ; never mind," put in Sir d
Charles Pelham, who was not proof against
the sight of tears in such pretty eyes as
Ellen's, and thongi t his sister rather hard on c
her daughter at times. "Let Ellen run in and 1
get another bottle of wine- and permit me to 1
shake hands with Miss O'Flaherty, of whom I c
have heard so much. The child is a good i
child enough. You should take her as she is,
and make allowance for blundering."
"That is kind," said Anne ; "if you will
make allowanoe for blonderlng I see a hope of I
our all getting on-."
Sir Charles was puzzled. The warm smile I
and gracious oordial air contradicted anything
of sarcasm he might have suspected in the I
words.
"A much better looking woman than I ex- 1
pected, and quite the lady. I wonder why
Elinor hates her so I' was hi mental verdict;
while A.ne reading his thoughts in the slow
glances of his eyes backwards and forwards
between herself and Mrs. Daly, came to her I
own conclusion.
"He has prejudices, but he Is a man," she
thought, "and therefore capable of Justice ; he
would never, if be watohed us for twenty !
years, artive at understanding the feeling that I
obliges us two poor women always to show
the worst side of ourselves to each other. No,
not if be knew-as of oourse he cannot know
that one of us never forgets that she has be
fore her the woman who bhas married the man
she loved, and the other that she is talking to
the woman who refused the man she has
married."
A little commotion among the crowd round
the car now recalled Mrs. Daly's and Sir
Charles' attention to the subject that was
occupying them when Miss O'Flaherty made
her appearance. Ellen returned from the
back premises with the news that poor Mor
dock was really cjming out now, and a do zn
eager, curious, symtthetio faces prepared for
lamentation and condolence were turned to
wards the door.
"Is he so very bad ?" asked Anne, catching
sight of a bout figure, slowly crutohing hip
self down the front hall, helped or rather
hindered by an old woman, who supported an
elbow, and broke out into tremulous "Ochones"
and "Saints preserve us," at every painful
step.
'Thie is precisely h"w it is." rxplained Sir
Charles, takitr g toe ns er on himuself. "If
thelad had been sent off to an hospitals
month ago, when the acoldent occurred, as I
advised, he'd have been well by this time,
and would have had nothing to remind him of
his mishap for the rest of his life; but be has
been kept here, with a dozen people fnresing
after bim, exciting nim with news, and set
ting aside the doctor's orders till it has be
oome a serious case. I have interfered pretty
strongly to have him sent away and put under
proper treatment, for I saw it was his only
chance of getting well."
"It's the thought of our going away, and of
the parting wits Connor, that has taken all
the heart out of him, and hinders bhis reoov
ery." whispered Ellen.
"Now, my good woman," exolaimed Sir
Charles, as old Mrs. Malahoby came within
hearing, "do show a little self-control, and
help your grandson, into the car without all
that hubbub. You can't make his legs
straight by crying over them; you only dis
trees him and everybody near by your foolish
outcries."
"But this and by that, is it stone atd ice
that you think my heart's made of, that I'm
not to weep and shed tears when I see my own
boy, that was the light of my eyes, and all
that I have left me in the world, barring the
son that's breaking his heart, this minute in
prims aleag of your bees'eeders, tSrned aout
a cripple, and helpless, to die in a strange
plase. I'll tell you tblis plainly, your honor,
sad my lady-' By th time, Mrs. Malaehy
had arrived full I. front of Sir Charles sad
sudden halt, fied on them two eyes in which
a fash of angry fire seemed to burn up the
ears. "Ill1 sll you this plainly, if you had
leit hbe boy alone to die seasy in the bed
where he was taken, after he had been killed
at your door by a wild beast, it's broken
hearted I would have been, bat I would not
have had the soze angry heart I carry this day;
I would have borne the will of God peasoeabhie
if you would let the boy die easy under the
roof that he love a."
'.Then you are a stupid, ungrateful old
woman." answered Sir Cuarles, not angrily.
but in the cheerful decided tone, he thought
appropriate to uneducated old people, whose
intellects could only be reached by strong
words and shouting--" very stupid and a
wicked old womn, I should call you, to wish
your boy to die in one bed instead of getting
better in another. You ought to be extremely
grateful to Mrs. Daly and to me for taking
all the pains we have to find out an hospital
where he will be quickly cured, and to Mr.
Pelham Daly for paying the expenses of his
removaL"
' Your honor need not have been afraid that
I sebould make a mistake about who it is we
are beholden to, for this same sending away.
8ore the names you have spoken were in my
heart, and on my lips, and I will never forget
them ; but oohone ! ochone ! that it should
be in this house that a hard thing is done by
the orphan and the poor, that will bring the
curse of God down upon it."
"Come, come, my good woman," interrupted
Sir Charles, potting his hand authoritatively
on her shoulder, and giving her a gentle shove
down the steps, "you are behaving very ill;
you had much better hold your tongue, cursing
and that sort of thing cannot be allowed. I'm
a magistrate myself in my own country, and I
feel it my duty to put a stop to bad language,
so get into the ear at once ; and perhaps Mrs.
Daly will be good enough to forget your un
grateful conduct."
Molly tottered down the steps under the im
pulse of the shove, but turned round undaunt
ed at the bottom to shake her withered fist at
the house.
"Frget, will she I No, your honor, it's re
niewber, she will, one day, when bhe sees her
ownu carried in the same way that mine's
turned out. It's remember my words she
will."
'"Ba silent, you old hag," roared Sir Charles,
thoroughly roused to anger at last. "How
dire you frighten the ladies by your wicked
eoo.sesee! I f you speak another word you
a an't go to the hospital with your grandson.
We will leave you behind in Ballyowen to
make acquaintance with the inside of your
son's present lodging."
"Kindly welcome you are to take me where
you please, for it is against my will I go either
way," said Molly, deliberately mounting the
car, and dropping down in a heap in one corner
of it" "I've said the word that was burning in
me, and had to come out; and now word nor
look, ourse nor blessing, will the place get
from me again."
"Someone lift the sick boy in, and let's
have done with it," said Sir Charles impatient
Murdock had remained on the top of the
steps, pale and panting,I after the exertion of
moving down the hall; but when, in obedience
to Sir Charle's orders, two servants lifted him
into the car, he sent wistful glances round, be
if in search of someone.
Ellen divined the meaning of the look, and
whispered to him, while Anne settled the pil
lows under his bead.
'You'll see Mr. Connor in Ballyowen, Mur
dock. He'll be waiting at the car-office to help
you into the public car, and wish you good bye
again. He went in to-day to see your uncle,
and he'll bring you good news of him."
"And the other yousng gentleman t"
'He has gone into Ballyowen to day too
with my father; but you don't want to see him,
do you, Mordock ?"
If he'd cared to see me I'd have left a word
for him now I know I'll die." He's your brother,
Miss Eileen, and Mr. Connor's. And now I
know I'll die, I'd not like ill-will to rest for
ever betwixt us, for the sake of a dog that's
dead."
"But you are not going to die, Murdock,"
said Anne, cheerfully; "the hospital is a very
different place from what you think it; and
before the month's out I'll come and see you
there, and if you don't like your quarters I'll
carry you off to Good People's Hollow, where I
defy you not to live and get well, and where
you'll hear every bit of news of Miss Eileen
and Mr. Connor that comes to me."
A change came over the loy's face as if new
life had been put into him.
"Then maybe after all I will live-if Miss
O'Flaherty says so. Maybe I will."
"Yes, I do say sc-only keep up your heart
till I see you again. And now good-bye."
Mrs. Daly had slipped her arm within her
brother's arm, and come close to him during
Goodie Malachy's harangue; and now she drew
the shawl she wore closer round her and shiv
ered a little.
' Let ns go back into the house, it is cold
here even in the sunshine. How glad I am we
are leaving the country so soon. I am not in
the least superstitious, fortunately ; but I
don't think I should ever have got that horrid
old woman's threatening face out of my mind
if we had stayed here."
"It's the stupid ingratitude of it that pro
vokes me," muttered Sir Charles. "Ingratitude
is the one thing I can't put up with; one meets
only too muchb of it among the poorer class in
England, I'll allow, but here it seems to be the
rule that if you take particular pains to bene
fit a person, be hates and abuses you in pro
portion. And they call themselves a good
hearted people. That's what I don't under
stand."
'Is anyone ever grateful for being benefited
against his will I" asked Anne.
"Bat while they are such ignorant savages
as that old hag who cursed us just now,
against their will is the only poessible way of
benefiting them."
"Then you must look out for some other
kind of reward than gratitude."
Anne turned to Mrs Daly. "You are really
leaving -the neighborhood in a week's time,
and the dear old house will be shut up '"
"Not altogether. A connection of Sir Charles
Pelhamn's, who is going to act as Mr. Daly's
agent, will onoopy part of the hones. It is a
very good arrangement, and enables us to get
away sooner than we otherwise should. Mr.
Daly cannot bear to linger over a parting;
and I confess I am in haste to be gone, for I
don't think the plaoe nsuits my eldest son. I
have always hitherto denied myself the plea
sure of having him with me on that sooount,
and now we all feel that it is time he took
his place in the family. You have not seen
him yet, hasve yout He is out just now with
Mr. Daly and Conner; but of course you have
come to spend the day."
If the invitation had been twice as un
graoiously given, Anne most have aooepted it.
She felt she must have one more day to add to
the many long days spent in Ithat house,
which, glanced back upon, seemed to be step
piDg stones in her monotonous stream of life
marking all its chief interests and pleasures.
As she sat making company-oonversation with
Mrs. Daly in the drawing-room, or walked
about the grounds with Sir Charles trying to
listen to his stream of talk, she could not help
recollections of past times rising one by one be
fore her. The days when she used to ride over on
her pony by her father's side-a proud little
maiden of seven or eight-to spend holiday or
birthday in playing with the two yonog con
sins, with whom she enjoyed the nearest ap
proaoh to brother and sister companionshabp
she knew; the days she sat on the lawn with
Dermot's lesson books in her lap, and Dermot
himself lolling on the grass at her feet, trying,
with all the fores of her will, to ke bser.artle
thoughts shaied to his work for ive mlnuote
together, and feeling a little sore a· bhear all
the time from a sense of the unpopular part her
eoneoleeoe obliged her to play. Theday when
lake, and be sonfided to her some soboolboy
scrape he had got lato, and she persuaded him
to oonfess it to blehi father; and they went back
to the bouse together. t the very threshold
of old Mr. Daly'e study-door hand in hand.
The day when Dermot out of perversity
would make his horse take a desperate leap
over a mountain torrent, and she had been
startled by the pain she felt during the mo
ment of espense as to his safety, into taklong
herself to task about her feelings towards him
for the f st time. The summerday when light.
hearted, winning Ellen Daly, the elder, pacing
the flowery garden walks with her, told her
the story of her love for the manwho broke
her heart afterwards. The day, year after
Ellen's ill-fated marriage, when Dermot in a
fit of despair acd disgust with himeelf, had
asked her to be his wife; and she, painfully
weighing every word, had seen definitely how
muoh and bow little of love there was in the
asking. The day of old Mr. Daly's death, when
she had seen Dermot unbappy for the first
time, and had half repented the deoision she
knew was so wise. The days when she had
worked bard alone to beautify Dermot'. house
for the arrival of his English bride. The day
when Dermot had come down to meet her in
the ball with his baby heir in hie arms. Sweet
days, painful daye-days marked by some pin
prick of a hard saying in them; days colored
with the soberer light of advancing middle
age, when the wounds given in the vivid days
of youth were gradually being healed, and new
interests and relationebips were growing up ;
till such a day as this was reached when she
could walk up and down the old paths philo
sophising on her past feelings, and finding in
the present that her strongest affections and
interests oentered round the young genera
tion.
(To be continued.)
Ever the most popular as well as the beet e
Sewing Machines, as has yearly been proved by oncial
returns of the number sold and by the numerous pre
mlums and prizes awarded it at all State fairs and ex
hibitions, the celebrated Sioza FAm.T MAcurn has
again come to the forefront as being cheaper than any
other, or even than the bogus imitations of iteelf offered
for sale in some quarters. During the past twelve months
the company have so reduced their prices as to put
their machines within the reach of all, and no home,
however humble, need now be without so inestima
ble a treaeure. Care should be taken by the pur
chasers not to be imposed by parties selling imitations
of the Singer. The beet safeguard that we know of
against this danger. is to call at the Company's splendid
store, t0 Canal. street, where the very efficient and
courteous agent, Mr. 8. E. Bundle, and his polite as
sistants, will see that you get what you wish and that
at the very lowest prices.
For particulars regarding Electric Belts, ad
dres "Pulvermaober Galvanic Company," CinomaUnti.
WATCLZE, JEW.LRT, EAL.
TYLER'S.
GEORGE E. STRONG
Begs to announce to the public that he has
purchased the fixtures of the store and
good will of the business of E. A. TYLER,
and is now open with an entire new stock
of
DIAMONDS, WATCHES, JEWELRY,
SOLID STERLING SILVER
AND
PLATED WARE.
This stock has been selected with great
care, and purchased at bottom prices, and
to it will be added from time to time all the
new patterns and novelties as fast as they
are produced in the New York market.
The favorable conditions under which these
new and attractive goods have been par
chased, enable us to offer the same at
prices lower than ever before.
The Manufacturing Department as here
tofore will be in charge of Mr. Henry Good
win, which is sufficient guarantee that all
Diamond work and the manufacture of any
article of Jewelry will be executed in a
manner that cannot be excelled in any city.
The Watch Making and Repairing De
partment will be in charge of the most
skillful and reliable workmen.
A Designer and Engraver has been em
ployed, and all goods purchased can be en
graved on short notice.
115-----Canal Street-----115
ap28 Im
MONEY TO LOAN
ON
DIAMONDS, JEWELRY, WATCHES, SILVER.
WARE, PIANOS, LOOKING-GLASSES and
FURNITURE of all descriptions, and all other
personal property, Guns, Pisatols, etc., etc.
- AO -
On STOCKS, BONDS, and other Collaterals, in large
and shall sums, at as low' rates of interest as any
chartered institution in this city.
PLEDGES KEPT ONE YEAR.
Hart's Loan Office,
43....... ... Bronne Street.............43
(Opposite the N. O. Gas Co.)
IAURICE J. HART, Agent.
N. B.-Partues not being able to call in person, will
reoeive prompt attention by communicating with the
abore.
ALL BUSINESS STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL.
The buosines of 48 St. Charles street, 5nown as
" Hart's Brokers' Office," will he continued as hereto
fore. mhl7 78 ly
JOHN P. ROCHE,
Jeweler and Optician,
Watches and Jewelry Carefully Repaired.
SPECTACLES AND EYE-GLASSES
Of Every Description.
Particular attention paid to ruit the sight accurately.
No. 98 Camp Street,
30M 77 ly WWW Olua.Us.
COMPOUND OXYEN.
MVee i utr.ue ooemf oe iOt
L088 OF VITWUT I ...
h eA. seter S a cmi. and p To4 n.
macn to nrm Anti laia.
F koNr sale in all9100 r EtOW
who havre uSed te new are
cii r.- e. with any a en reMaln f o rise
iseerke ble ua . re o e . . Acm -'.
Excellent for an Anti.Malarll Merinug Bte V ,
LOW PRICE. PURE AND RELIABLE,
Foe eate in all quantities by
ALF. WALZ,
..............Coet Streeto .. ...,
fel 78 ey Soloe Manufacerer.
- 710
A paoitive ure for ghenmatim. Gout, I
GIELRWICZ AA T kHLUMebIe MT te
the most popolar medleio in the country m aoo
is mid than all other Rhenmatio Medltne
and i ie the moe t costly patent medicine fer *
in existence.
It re ommended by all the ladleg physteia,
tam pure vegetable mixture. Should she elatit ged
relief from the use of one or two bottlee ha
amured that helir not nffering from any oef the
direae, and it will be of no use to cnotmne is.
For sel by the principal druggsta.
Prise, n1 50 per bottle.
er SLEW & CO., PrepriettN,
des T ly P.O. rox 1400, Nser (kle .
FOR
l.,r I'arn~pl.c ..ddresa Da. Snreroms, New eek.,
e90 lyeow
A BYSTERY SOLVED.
The GreEteet Medical Triumph of Mode
Times I The Mysterious Channel of Di.B
emee Discovered, and a Certain Curs
Provided. The Stomab, Liver and
Bowels the Centre of Dieae.
Parsons' Purgative Pills,
The Great Anti-Bilous Remedy and
Miaematio Dissolver.
PARSON'S PURGATIVE PILLS
Are the result of long-sontinued Soienttlo ta4kti
tioes, and are warranted to cure ali diseae gisag
in the Stomach Liver and Bowels. No rip epaSe
lollow the nue of these Pills, unless the Besels me
inleamed ; but RELIEF, IMMEDIATB RELLEF, ma
be relied upon. As a common Family Phyate
PARSOR'S PURGATIVE PILLS
Stand uneqealled before the world to day. vy,
lug the doeo aoording to directions. Parsos'
tive PIle effectually purity the blood ad gre
alleviate, If not entirely cure, Dyspepais e eU
Ring's Evil, Bosee. ryelipele or St.- Atboey'e Nb
Eruptlons and Eruptive Diseuee of the Skin, el
Rhenm, Tatter, Ringworm, Sore, RollS, T atw
Morbid Swellnge, Ulceratlons, Pimples and mtehe
EVERY BOX WARRANTED
Meet Complete Satisfaction Guarantee4er We
Full directione around eoach box. Pbyeslmme
by mail, poet-paid, for $5 0 per thoumand, in
In dvanoe, We will eend thee. Idle to ey1
druggit or merchant to all on commiasion.
Aents wanted everywhere.
I. S. JOHNSON & 00,
Je54 77 ly Manufacturers, Bmager. 2i]We.
SARRACENIA
LIFE
BITTERS.
Nearly every icknem that befallse man er w t'
correctly traced, proceed from derangemaem ofem
vital organe. the Stomach and Liver.
Fevers, etc., are but esequenoee. The SARSA
ROOT is neture'e own remedy for thes Meeesal
ordere. Thoueends of the faculty, in Erepe
Amerioa, testify to it ingular medimdn pree5ee
Dyepepein.Waating of the Syatem. tontipbe.- .l
the like. au d the wonderful coure efleoted by ti
delightful of all tonio cordials.l
Mrs. GREGORY, Mayerille, Ky., writes
" My health is permanently reetor.d nee 'I ha
been using the ~ARRACENIA LIFE BITTEB.
Every woman Souoth outh. to use this eplendid Dm11
Tonic. Send another box by expree."
my1327 ly Druggiete, New O-.
WESTERN PRODUCE, LIQUORS, ITC.
JOHN T. GIBBONS & CO.,
GRAIN, CORNMEAL AND HAY,
57, 59, 61,63...New Levee Street...57,60, 61,
aun2 77 ly Oorner Poydrasa New Orl)s
JOHN McCAFFREY,
DEALXR Is
HAY, GRAIN, CORNMEAL, PLO
ALL KINDA 07
Western Produce Constantly on Uand
28 and 30.......Poydras Street....... 98
orener of rulton,
aulE 77 ly sEW Cr ur
ANDREW LEO,
CARPENTER AND BUILDER,
io7o AND sRor.
459 Magazine Street. near Race.
1e ord rlf ther erattex e 94 to. asaiam1d
ixboma, GfavtI ud 8i OwuLeas s l2s,I
wusA, ,mp9I a5t9a14 t. -