The Pulaski citizen. [volume] (Pulaski, Tenn.) 1866-current, 1875-04-15
sinister smile +; and it's me you're goin'


IN clear, calm voice: What do you
mean, Martin MacDermott ?"
"Wnat I said just now-that I got
Heveran's houldin'. and took my oath
to marry Julia O'Byrne. told it to
her father half an hour ago."
You mean to say you are goin' be
tween me and the colleen / love-the
colleen ! have loved since she was up
to my kneel You mean to say you are
goin' between me and these few dirty
acres Of Heveran's that L axed first,
and bespoke between your only broth
er and all the hopes of peace he has in
this world-you, that has full and
plenty, Martin MacDermott ?"
I'm goin' to marry julia" Martin
replied with sulIen determination.
Julia, what do You tay ?" Owen
asked. turning to the girl, who stood
silently weeping.
81 must answer for her." O'Byrne
said. 81 1 pror ised her to Martin, and
I'm not goin' back on my word, I can
tell you. What have you to show !?
How do you mean to keep her? ?"
What do you say, Julia f"
wish to stick to you, Ownie, and
never marry any one else-neyer, never,
as hope for luck
g God bless you for them words, dar-
lin'l Only be true and faithful, and I'll
soon have a cabin for you somewhere"
''Julia f" said her father, raising his
hands to heaven, " if you ever marry
that boy, ever spake to him, ever think
of him, I'll curse you on my bare
knees You don't know what a faith
er's curse is Don't bring it on my
child, if you love her. Never come
across her again, Ownie MacDermOtt !"
lyon hear that, Julia. What am I
to do ?" Owen asks.
Z $50 away, ami never come near me
again, or he'll curse me, Owen. Go
away"
Oven MacDermott stood perfectly
still for a few minutes, and then, raising
his eyes to heaven, and with the impet-
uoslty of a youug Irishman, called
down a bitter curse on his only
brother.
May you never be happier than I
am now, sleeping or waking May
to dust and ashes May your children
live to hate and dishonor you, Martin
MacDermott - And with one long
look at the trembling Julia, Owen rap
idly passed out into the cold darkness
of the March evening, and was seen no
more IN Castlegar. Ten pounds of the
money left him by his father he took,
the remainder lay in the bank. But
which side he went, or what became of
him. no one knew.
A year passed away, and then Michael
O'Byrne died and Julia, from sheer
inability to resist any longer, became
the wife of Martin MacD ermott, though
she feai ed the very sound of his voice,
and trembled at his touch. He was a
tyraut, but che scarcely needed that,
for she had no will, and no wish to do
anything but what he babe her. She
had children, but one after another
they rsickened and died, and things in
general began to grow wrong with Mar
tin his shabby churlishness making
him generally disliked. When they
were ten years married, Julia died in
giving birth to twins, a fine healthy
boy and girl. Both lived, and all the
affection their father had he conferred
on the boy he called Darby, after his
own father. The little girl, Julia, he
cared nothin about, allowing her to
grow mp Just as best she could. The
fam Martin took 20 treaeherously from
his brother he. gave up long before, as
nothing ever soWn there prospered, and
indeed, acre by acre, the upland farm
had been going for years. Darby Mac
Dermott grew up to be a fine, hand
some man, first and foremost in every
mischief the village could afford; and
at twenty years of age got transported
for seven years for treason felony, as
he had taken an active part in the re-
bellion of 1888. Julia was an idle,
careless girl, who spent her time in
gossiping in the neighbor's house, in
stead of taking care of her father, a
weak, helpless old man, who toiled
early and late trying to keep a roof
over his head. All these wretched
schemes had turned out badly. They
had not in them the ring of a straight
forward and honest man. Above all,
the trouble and disgrace of his son
Darby completely broke him down, and
he took to his bed, only wishing and
wanting to die. "It's the curse, it's
Ownie's curse" he would mourn for
hours, as he lay alone without a soul to
hand him even a drink of water.
+" Sure. L might have known it would
come" s.re
At length the climax of Martin Mac
Dermott's suiierings was reached, the
measure of his punishment filed up.
II VI AhAOO y cars LO lld0 uOb DhlA u Blk
pence of rent, and he was dispossessed,
turned out of the house in which he
was born, and his father and grand
father before him, to die by the way
left homeless and friendless by the
roadside, on a dreary November morn
ing.
Remembering his unkindness to an
only brother, his harshness to the poor,
timid, patient wife, his blind indul-
gence of his son in the face of patent
facts, his total neglect of his only
daughter, and his mean, scheming char
aeter, there were few to pity Martin
MacDermott in his trouble and 80 he
was taken to the workhouse, his house
knocked down, and not a trace left of
what was once happy homestead.
And Owen, when he left the tent that
ver-memorable st. Patsick's night, it
was with the resolve of going away
forever-anywhere, so that he was far
away from the place which had sudden
" become hateful to him. He walked
all night, and at the break of day found
himself outside the town of Ballinasloe.
There he had some breakfast, and at
the inn he entered into conversation
with some men who were going to Eng
land with cattle, and were in want of a
drover. Owen offered his services for
as ne appeared a quiet, respectable
young man, they were accepted at once.
They reached Dublin in three days,
and then started for Liverpool, where
Oven babe good-by TO the cattle-job
bers, and took a passage to America in
the Golden Gross. On board, he made
himself so useful and agreeable TO the
captain that he gave him a recommend
alton to a merchant in New York, who
took him into his office. For five years,
Owen worked patiently and steadily,
and then his master promoted him to
clerk; and so on from step to step, his
patient, honest industry raised him till
he became partner in one of the first
firms IN the great city. Then, when he
paused to consider that he was rich and
independent, and a gentleman, came
home-longings. The Upland farm, the
lane where he last walked with Julia,
the quiet little market town-all used
to come before him as he sat in his
grand, lone house and at last he re-
solved to pay his native land visit.
He arrived at Gort late on the after
noon of the 10Th of March, and deter
mined to remain ouiet till the uavt dow