The daily phoenix. [volume] (Columbia, S.C.) 1865-1878, 1869-08-06
UNDER sRNThNon or DEATrI.
UoNoLuDED..

80, fhf--'e--''s S0COAO01Os- tN ~
The farmer left the hous5s. aud ran ran on
to the iblecksmith's forge, where the
snithtand his son were getting to work.
to the fair. an T. want ye to run over
wud somsthin' to cut o chain. for me;
'twof,'t take you five minutes. Martin,
you uiyer did bettber day's-Work-in
your life, If you'll come as fast as yer
1egs9n carry yel'' He said this in an
under tone while the. sons back was
turned s'and whisht for all sakes ~ he
added, elenching his hand and sucking
1t at the unconscious young Vulcan; tSen
herushed out, leaving the father grasping
bar Of iron and staring after him.
The smith, with the freemasonry that
exists among the Irish peasantry, per-
ceived that there was secrecy and trouble
in the way, and that his good faith was
relied on. He picked up some. tools,
muttered an excuse to HE son, and fol-
lowed hastily. t3 ...,s
When Pat Moran reached home he
was met at the door by Kate.
els he safe?'' StA
.'Yes, father. he's in the room atin q
bit"
Her father went in, and, going up to
his strange guest, said: "I'm goin' to
do what I can for you, Tim" Then
they all began discussing eagerly the
best way for the fugitive to take.
"But, Lordl The whole counthry'l II be
reused afther him p broke in the farmer,
deiectedly: as they suggested various
lonely hill-paths and cross-cuts. s'Lord! |!
they'll root up the ground after him I! I
must thry though, / must thry. Heaven
mend me- Aft T didn't lave the horses
all this time, an niver," he calculated,
catching sight of his forgotten team, who
had dragged the plough after them to
the adjoining meadow, and were grazing
there.
A sudden thought struck him, and he
hastily returned to the house with his
face flushed. AS he entered the kitchen
he ran against the smith, Martin Leary,
who was staring about him. '-' - -
Martin, you're thr1e an honest,
know, an, you'd do q good turn as soon
as any man 1 know, said Pat Moran,
abruptly. ~ ;s
"Theres meshand on it, returned the
smith, bringing down his black fist on
the otheEss shoulder. In few words he
was told what was required of him, and
also of the bright thought that had just
occurred to Pat Moran. .
"HereiF let me at it," cried. the smith,
enthusiastically grasping his Iohisel and
hamnaer. Thereupon the farmer led him
into the little room, where Kate was ad-
ministering hot tea and smoking grid
drank almost me ohanicauy, with his eyes
fixed on the pretty face and busy hands
that administered to him.
"Here, Tim, g some one to do you q
good turn. Hould out your hands, me
boy! Peggy" turning to his wife, who
was devoutly groaning and telling her
beads in the corner, ego an get my old
clothes; an, Kitty, run for that yellow
clay in the kitchen gardenl Rnn!" She
did as she was bid, and when she return
ed with the clay, was desired to keep out
of the room for few minutes.
"Mother, honey, whakare they doing?"
she inquired.
''Sorra bit O. me knows, acushla. On'y
your father has some plan in his head |
Obi Kitty, agra, I'm thrimblin to think
of the throuble he may be gitten into
Ooh. Pat, honey, what are ye goin' to do
at all ?" she cried, addressing her hus-
band. who came out of the bedroom,
dressed in his best blue swallow-tailed
coat, corduroys, and new gray stock
ings.
'I'm goin' to show this new sarvint
BOY Where he's to plough, afore J. go to
the fair" said the farmer, witha wink to
the two women, who stared open-eyed at
the change of the condemned man, with
the fatal prison garb dripping with mud
and sand, and fettered wrists, into d
careless. easy-going looking young Ia
borer, in a suit of we'll worn and patched
frieze and corduroy, dirty and clayey
with Jumps OF clay. sticking ON his
brogues, rakish ''caubeen' slenched
over his eyes, and black 'tdhudeen"
between his lips.
"Now come on 'Tis time you were
at your work; his names Maurice Slat-
terry, Kate, an he's wud us this month
back !" ...
"Oh, father, honey u Oh, Pat, acu-
shla !" cried the wife and daughter with
admiration.
The young man, taking the pipe from
his mouth, said solemnly, "May God for
iver bless you, Pat Moran, an you, Mrs
Moran, an you, Kate, an you, Martin
Leary," and he grasped their hands all
round. 49,.
"Come, 'tis six o'clook," said the
farmer. "You know where the plough
is, Maurice Slattery. An, Kate, you're
to bury them clothes. Come, an I'll