The workingman's advocate. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1864-1877, 1870-07-30

In the September Of 1884, | was van
dering by the side Of a country churchyard,
situated near the banks Of the Tyne. The
sun had gonc down, and the twilight was
falling grey upon the graves l saw poor
looking man, whose garments t1uttered in
tatters with the evening breeze, and who,
by bis appearance, seemed to be an Irish
reaper, rise from among the tombs. He
repeatedly drew the sleeve Of bis coat across
bis eyes, and | could hear him sobbing heav-
ily, as though bis heart would burst. As
we approached each other, l discovered that
be was my old canal-boat companion, the
then merry and kind-hearted Larry MCar-
thy but no more the like Larry | bad then
seen him than funeral to bridal.
His frame was wasted to skeleton, and
hunger and misery glistened in bis eyes to-
gether.
HAP said l, aecosting him, rs it pos
sible that sorrow can have laid its heavy
hand upon the light heart Of Larry M'Csr-
thy p
"Shure," said be, drying away the tears
that ran down bis wan and wantwOrn cheeks,
sand it is true, and too true, and heavy is
the hand, shure enough but not so heavy
as it should be, or it would be weighing
me into that grave" He pointed to the
grave | had seen him leave, and added,
0But bow do you know me, sr-and who
tould ye my name Pas l don't know
yours-for sure mine is Larry NJ Carthy, az
my father and mother, and his riveTsnOe,
wild nay material sponsors, to boot, all, every
one of thin, say and affirm"
reminded him of the canal boat, and
the raf1e, and inquired the cause of bis dis
tress, and his visit to the grave.
"Arrah, MASTER" said he, land you
touch sore place when you ask me to tell
it, Perhaps you don't knOw-fOr how
should you--that, not long after the time
you spake of in the canal boat, l came
down to what ye call the Borders here, to a
bit O. navigating work that was to be long
job. l lodged wid widOw-a dacent ould
woman, that had a daughter they called
Maryland, och you may be thinking
that ever Mary bad an equal, but it's wrong
that ye are, if ye think SO. Her eyes were
like drops of dew upon the shamrock and,
although she was not Irish but Scotch, it
was all one; for, ye know, the Scotch and
Irish are one mans childer. But, at any
rate, she had true Irish heart; and, but
for the sac or the Channel, as they call it,
she would have been Irish as well as me.
The more l saw of Mary, loved her the
more-better than a bird loves the green
tree. She loved me, too; and we we're
married. The ould woman died a few
weeks before Mary presented me with two
little Larrys. / might have called them
both Larry; for they were as like each
other as your two eyes, and both of them
as like me, too, as any two stars IN the
blessed armament are like each other, where
nobody can see difference.
sMarv made the best wife III Chrlsten
dom and, when our little cherubs began tC
run about our knees, and to lisp and spakt
to Us, thousand times have | clasped
Mary to my breast, and blessed her Al
though my heart would burst with JOY
Sure, | used to soy, what would my Owr
mother have said, had her ould eyes beer
witness to the happiness of her son, Larry
MCarthy?'
"But often the thought came staleine
over me, that my happiness was too like
drame to last long; and sure and it was
drame, and a short one. too. A cruel, NOR
: tai fever came to the village, and whC
should it seize upon but my little darlints
I 1t was hard to see them dying together and
, my Mary wept her bright eyes blind ove
them. But bad luck was upon me. Th'
'potbeCary tould us as how our lovely
cbildsr would die; and on the very day
+ that be said so, the wife that was dearer t.
/ me than Ould Ireland to St. Patrick, Ia.
down on the bed beside them--and och, sir
!. before another sun looked in at our win
1 d,w. a rfvfau mother lsv bstwsen heT deai