The Worthington advance., 1878-12-12

sipinx in the neighbor's house, instead 81 TAX:
Ing care Of her father; . weak, helpless old
q roof over his head. All his. wretched
schemes had turned out badly. They.had notin
them the ring of u straightfor ward and honest
man. Above all, tho trouble and disgrace OF
bis son Darby completely broke him down
and he took to his bed, only wishing and want
Ing to die. ''It's the curse-it's Ownie,s own
curse!" he would moan for hours, as he lay
alone without soul to hand him even drink
of water. "sure, might have known 1t would
come"
At length the climax OF Martin MacDer.
motifs suffering was reached, the measure OF
his punishment filed up. For three years ne
had not paid a sixpence OF rent, and ne was
turned out OF the house in which
he was born, and his father and grandfather
before him, to die by the way-left homeless
and friendiess by the roadside on drcary
Rcmemberlng his unkindness to an only
brother, his harshness to his poor, tlmld,
patient wife, his blind indulgence OF his son.
his only daughter, and his mean, scheming
character, there were few to pity Martin
MacDermott in his trouble; and SO he was
taken to the workhouse. his house knocked
down, and not a trace left Of what had been
once happy homestead.
And owen, when he LETT the tent 'that ever
memorable St. Patrick's night, it was with the
resolve of going away for eye'-anywherc, so
that he was far from the place which had
suddenly become hateful to him. He walked
all night, and at the break Of day found him
self Just outside the town Of Ballinsaloc
There he had some breakfast, and at the Inn
he entered into cOnve. sation with some men
who were going to England with cattle and
were in want Of a drever. Owen offered his
services, end as he appeared a quiet, respec-
table young man, they were accepted ut one.
They reached Dublin in three days sand then
started for Liverpool, where Owen said good
by to the cattle jobbers, and took =. passage
to America in the Golden Cross. On board he
made himself SO useful and agreeable to the
to a merchant in New York, who took him in
to bis office. For five years Owen worked pa
tiently and steadily, and then his master pro-
moted him to be clerk; and so on from step
to step, his patient, honest Industry raised hiul
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 gentleman, came home-longings. The
Upland farm, the line where he last walked
with julia, the quiet little markettOwn-all
used to come before him US he satin his grand,
lonely house, and at last he resolved to pay
his native place visit.
He arrived at Gort late on the afternoon Of
quiet till the next day, when he felt pretty
sure of meeting his brother Martin. 1t was
Just thirty years since Owen left his native
place, and there were fewer changes in the
dull little town than he anticipated-far fewer
changes than there were in himself. But
when St. Patrick's day dawned, clear and
frosty, lie could not rest, and started early In
the well.remembered direction OF the Upland
Farm. How his heart beat us he drew near
| the old cabin, weather.staincd and desolate
which had been the home of Julia; and how
| it stood still as he reached the level field o
oats which was just coming over ground
where his fathers house stood! Faint ant
! sick, he entered the first cabin he came to, ant
asked drink of water. A wretched old wo
man, seeing how white he looked, asked hin
to take stool, which he did, aud after few
minutes, silence he began to ask some ques
tions about tue place. A young girl with
face that would have bee,
pretty but for its sulky expression, had
Quantity OF fair hair negigently hanging owe
she was carding, and examined the strange
attentively, as he asked the old woman wha
had become Of the MacDermotts.
| "Come here, Judy, and tell his honor wha
became of Martin MacDermott and his bless
ed family. This is his daughter, sir"
And Martin, what has become OF him?
he dead"' Owen asked, breathlcss]y.
| u
girl said, sulenly; "he's in the poorhouse"
Owen buried his face in his hands and wer
aloud. Surely his curse had fallen hot an
heavy; far, far hotter and heavier than b
meant it should.
''Girl! did you hear OF your Uncle Owen
am he. Take me to your father. And thi
is Julia's daughter! l might bave known
you are so like her."
Itwas hard to make poor old Martin MAJ
Dermott understand that his brother ha
come back, and was rich, and was willing
help him; but when it did dawn on his feeb]
mind, his sorrow and his gratitude was toucl
ing to behold. "l'ake me away, Ownie-tak
me away from Ballybane. l can never hou'
up my head among the neighbors agai
Sure Pm broken-down ould creature; but
have small taste Of the spirit Of Mae Dermo o
left yet. in spite OF all my troubles. Take u
! an Julia away, Ownie."
! There was now demonstrated beautif
instance Of magnanimity. Owen took l.
: broth and his niece to New York; b,
home Of Owen. Six months after they lande
; he died, without any visible or local cause
simply of u broken heart. Julia took III
place as mistress OF her uncle's establishment
and before very long married the son OF h
partner, and had a fine house Of her owl
& and when Darby's term OF transportation e
: pired, his uncle took him to live with hir
j | nc young uan udu ledTHcu bctcIc lcSSO
: but he profitcd by it, and he is now one OF Il
. most prosperous and esteemed merchants
1 New York. His children climb on the kne
a of white-haired, gentle old man they cs
Uncle Owen, and he sometimes says to Dart
D as he strokes his eldest boys golden cur
b ''Your Owen is like me, nephew, I can 8
that. Pm happy old man. I could IL
have been so had I committed any horrit
: act Of vsgeance. In doing good for evil th
e am truly blest."