Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1878-12-08

what do you say, Juliag'
II wish TO stick to you, Ownie, and never
marry any one else-never, never, as [ hope
for luck!"
God bless you for them words, darling!
Only be true and faithful, and III soon have
cabin for you somewhere
julia said her father, raising his hands to
heaven, III you ever marry that boy, ever
speak TO him. ever think Of him, I'll curse
you on my bare knees. You don't know what
a,father's curse is. Don't bring it on my
child, If you love her. Never come across
her again, Owen MacDermottt'
You hear that, Julia? What am I to do?n
Owen asks.
| no away, and never come near me again,
or he'll curse me, Owen. Go awaY!'
Owen MacDermott stood perfectly still for
few minutes, and then, raising his eyes to
| heaven, called down a bitter curse on his only
| brother; May you never be happier than {
am now, sleeping or waking. May every
thing you put your hand to turn to ashes!
| May your children live to hate and dishonor
| you. Martin MacDermott!' and with one
long look at the trembling Julia, Owen rapid
~ passed out into the cold darkness of the
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
| MacDefmOtt, though she feared the very
| SOUND OF his voice, and trembled at his touch.
he was tyrant, but she scarcelyneeded that,
| Tor she hau no will and no wish to do anythin q
but what he bade her. She had children, but
one alter another sickened and died, and
taings II genera. began to go wrong with
Martin, his shabby surlishness making him
| generally disliked. When they were ten
years married, Julia died ia giving birth to
twins fine healthy boy and girl. Both
lived, and all the affection their father had for
anything he centred on the boy he called
Darby, after his own father. The little girl,
Juila, he cared nothing about allowing her to
crow up just as best she could TIE farm
Martin took sotreacherously 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 wears.
Darby MacDermott grew up to be a fine,
hand -olne man, first and foremost III every
mischief the village could afford, and at
twenty years OF age got transported for seven
years Tor treason-feony, as he had taken an
active part in the rebellion of1S4S. Julia was
an Idle, careless girl, whospenther time in Cos
sping in the neighbours house, instead OF tax
ing care OF her father, a weak, helpless old
man, tsho toiled early and late, trying to keep
schemes had turned out badly. They had notin
them the ring of a straightforward 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 want
ing to die. Its The curse-it's Ownie's own
curse!' he would moan for hours, as he lay
alone Without soul to hand him even a drink
OF water. Sure, might have known it would
Gomez
At length the climax of Martin MacDer-
motifs suffering was reached, The measure of
his punishment filled up. For three years he
had not paid sixpence of rent, and he was
dispossessed turned out OF the house in which
ne was born, and his father and grandfather
before him, to die by the Way-iefJ homeless
and friendless by the roadside on a dreary
November morning.
Remembering his unkindness TO an only
brother, his harshness to his poor, timid,
patient wife, his blind Indulgence Of his son,
in the face of patent facts, his total neglect OF
his only daughter, aad his mean, schemine
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 left the tent that ever
memorable St. Patrick's night, it was with the
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 Ballinsaloe.
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 III want OF drever. Owen offered his
serylcees, end as he appeared quiet, respec-
J "a young man, they were accepted at on e.
They reached Dublin in three days, and then
started for Liverpool, where Owen said good
by to the cattle jobbers, and took passage
10 America in the Golden Cross. On board he
made himself SO useful and agreeable to the
q Iot;
TO merchant in New York, who took him in
TO bis office. For five years Owen worked pa
tlantiy and steadily, and then his master pro
NOTED him to be clerk; and SO on FROM step
to step, his patient honest industry raised hiIu,
I'll ne became partner in one of the first
firms IN the great CITY. Then, when he paused
TO consider that he Was rich and independent,
anu a gentleman, canAe home longings The
Upland farm, the line where he last walked
with Julia, the quiet little market-town-au
used to come before him as he sati his grand
lonely house, and at last he resolved to pay
MS native place visit
He arrived at Gort late on the afternoon of
the 18th Of March and determined to remain
quiet till the next day, when he felt pretty
sure OF meeting his brother Martin. Ii was
just thirty years since Owen left his native
place, and there were fewer changes in the
duh little town than he anticipated fewer
changes than there were in himself. But
frosty, ne could not rest, and started early in
the WeN-rsmenl bered direction Of the Upland
Farm. How his heart beat as he drew near
the OLD cabin, weather-stained and desolate
which had been the home of Julia; and how
1t stood still as he reached the level field of
oats which was just coming over ground
where his fathers house stood Faint and
sick, he entered the frstcabin he came to, and
asked drink OF wafer. A wretched old wo-
man, seeing how White he looked, asked him
to take stool, which he did, aud after few
minutes, silence he began 10 ask some cues
nons about the place. 4 young girl with a
1ace h, 1aat g., ~ would 3;l have been
quantity OF fair hair negIigently hanging over
her shoulders, looking III. from heap OF fax
she was carding, and examined the stranger
attentively, as he asked the old woman what
had become of the MacDern1otts
Come here, Judy, and tell his honor what
became of Martin MAC Dermott and his bless.
ed family. This is his daughter, sir"
And Martin, what has become Of him? Is
he dead?" Owen asked, breathessly
No; it would be a good job if he was,n the
girl said, sullenly; he's in the poorhouse."
Owen buried his face in his hands and wept
aloud. Surely his curse had fallen hot and
heavy; far, far hotter and heavier than he
meant it should
Girl! did you hear OF your Uncle Owen?
am he. Take me to your father. And this
is Julia's daughter! I might bave known;
you are so like her."
ltWas hard to make poor old Martin Mae
Dermott understand that his brother had
come back, and was rich, and was willing to
help him; but when it did dawn on his feeble
mind, his sorrow and his gratitude was touch
ing to behold. arake me away, Ownie-ta1e
me away from Ballybane. can never houl,t
up my head among the neighbors again
Sure Pm a broken down ould creature: but
have small taste of the spirit of Mac Dermott
left yet, in spite of all my troubles. Take me
an Julia away, Ownie'
There was now demonstrated beautiful
instance of nagnanimity. Owen took his
brother and his niece to New York; but
Martin did not live to enjoy the splendid
home of Owen. Si1mOnths after they landed