Connecticut western news., 1876-10-20

them over, and to show h1S handker- chief, in which, as before, he tied up his earnings this time, however, only to his friends. Cautious among strangers, he hid the treasure, and kept his vest buttoned over it day and night, until the tickets were bought and sent. Then every man, woman and child, capable of hearing and understanding, knew that Nora and her baby were com ing.
 At first the men who prided them selves on turning out the best work in the city made a sort of butt of Connor, whose "wild Irish ways and verdancy were indeed often Imaginable. But it won their hearts at last, and when, one day, mounting work bench, he shook his little bundle, wrapped in red 'ker- chief, before their eyes and shouted {: "Look, boys, I've got the whole at last 1 I'm going to bring Nora and Jamesy over at last ! Whoroo! I've got it !" all felt sort of sympathy in his joy.
 There was John Jones, who had more of the brute in his composition than usually falls to the lot of man-even he, who had coldly hurled his hammer at an offenders head, missing him by 8 hairs breadth, would spend his ten minutes in the noon hour in reading the Irish news to Connor. There was Tom Baker, the meanest man among the number, who had never been known to give anything to any one before, abso- lutely bartered an old jacket for pair of gilt vases which peddler brought in his basket to the shop, and presented them to Connor for Morals mantlepiece. And there was idle Dick, the appren- tice, who actually worked two hours on Connor's work when illness kept the Irishman at home one day. Oonnor felt this kindness, and returned it whenever 1t was in his power.
 And the days flew by and brought letter at last from his wife. "She would start as he desired, and she was we'll, and so was the boy, and might the Lord bring them safely to each others arms and bless those who had been so kind to him." This was the substance of the epistle, which Connor proudly assured his fellow workmen Nora wrote herself. She had lived at service as a girl with certain good old lady, who had given her an education, the items of which Connor told upon his fingers. "The radin,' that's one, and the writin', that's three, and moreover Su0 kuOWS MI tt WOLlAu GULL. 1u6n u0 looked up at his fellow workmen, with the tears in his eyes, and asked "Do you wondher the time seems long between me an her, boysf" So it was-Nora at the dawn of day Nora at noon-Nora at pight-until the news came that the "Stormy Petrel '" had come to port, and Connor, breath less and pale with excitement, flung his cap in the air and shouted. It happened on Q holiday afternoon, 1 and half 6 dozen of men were ready to go with Connor to the steamer and give his wife a greeting. Her little home was ready; MT. Bawn's own servant had put it in order, and Connor took one peep at it before he started.
 "She hadn't the like O that in the ould counthry," he said. But she'll know how to kape them tidy"
 Then he led the way toward the dock where the steamer lay, at pace which made 1t hard for the rest to follow him. The spot was reached at last; crowd of vehicles blockaded the street; troop of immigrants came thronging up; fine cabin passengers were stepping into cabs, and drivers, porters, and all man. ner of employees were yelling and shouting in the usual manner. Nora would wait on board for her husband | he knew that.
 The little group made their way into the vessel at last, and there, amidst those who sat watching for coming friends, Connor searched for the two so dear to him; patiently at first, eagerly, but pa tiently; but by-andbye growing anxious and excited.
 "She would niver go alone," he said. "She'd be lost enthirely. bade her wait; but don't see her boy. I think she's not in it"
 "Why don't you see the captain ?'' asked one, and Connor jumped at the suggestion. In moment he stood be- fore portly, rubicund man, who nodded to him kindly.
 "I am looking. for my wife, yer honor," said Connor, "and I can't find her."
 "Perhaps she's gone ashore," said the captain.
 "I bade her wait," said Connor.
 "Women don't always do as they are bid, you know" said the captain.
 "Nora would," said Connor. "But maybe she was left behind. Maybe she didn't come. I somehow think she didn't"
 I At the name of Nora the captain started. In moment he asked:
 "What is your name7"
 "Pat Connor," said the man.
 "And your wife's was Nora?"
 "That's her name, and the boy witt her is Jamesy, your honor," said Con nor.
 The captain looked at Connor's friends they looked at the captain. Then he said, huskily:
 "Sit down, my man I've got some thing to tell you"
 "She's left behind 2' said Connor.
 "She sailed with us," said the cap tain.
 "Where is she?" said Connor.
 The captain made no answer. "My~ man," he said, "we all have our trials. God sends them. Yes, Nors , started with us."
 Connor said nothing. He was look s ing at the captain now, white to the lips , "It's been sickly season." said tho captain. "We had illness on board
 the cholera. You know thatQ'' II didn't" said Connor "l can , read-they kept it from me-" 7 "We didn't want to frighten him,
 said one man, in half whisper. l "You know how long we laid a I quarantine
 "The ship came in did that," sais Connor. "Did you say Nora wen f ashore9 I ought to be lookin for her ' captain" "Many died," went on the captain 8 ''many children. When we were hal r way here your boy was taken sick t "Jamesy," gasped Connor. f "His mother watched him night an' 0 day." said the captain, "and we did al :, we could but at last he died-only on ? of many. There were five buried tha 7 day. But it broke my heart to see tn