The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1879-09-25
THE FAIRY GUEST.

John and Peggy Donnel lived half
way up Dooish Mountain, in region of
frequent mist and storm. Far down be-
low them lay Gartan Tough, embosom-
ed in rugged, Undiscovered hills, and
above and around stretched mile upon
mile of mountain-acres of heather, the
abode of grouse innumerable; patches
of grass, where droves of sheep and cat
tie grazed; and inaccessible heights,
known only to the golden eagle and her
wild brood.
DOnnel was a drover; !. e., he bought
up cattle, let them Craze upon the noun
tains, and sold them when fattened.
He was very comfortably off, and his
cottage was well built and matched. He
found no difficulty in paying his rent to
the day, and had always abundance of
such simple food and clothing as salts
fled his desires. 1t was November
night of storm and rain The gusts
Numbered at the door, tossing the bare
arms of the sycamores that grew near
the house; they had swept along noun
tain defiles and across the gray waters
of the Tough, and now shrieked and
howled madly round the gable An
occasional lull i'm the storm brought the
clamor of sea-gull and cry of plover to
Donnel's ear. He locked the door, stuff
ed wisp of straw under it to keep out
the cold wind, and sat down opposite
Peggy in the ample chimney-corner.
90 God send the cattle has found shell
ter the night!'' said he, shaking the
ashes out of his pipe.
Peggy was spinning. She stopped
her wheel suddenly to ask, "Did you no
hear something, John, dear?''
LAY, Peggy, heard the sough o. the
wind.''
Whist, whist, honey. there it was
again; it wasna like the wind
"Sure it was the sea-gull an the
plover," replied her husband, care
lessly.
just then another blast of hurricane
swept across the lake and Numbered at
the door, tossing the carefully arranged
wisp of straw into the middle of the
kitchen.
60 1t was a pitiful cry, but it wasna the
birds, let alone the wind" said Peggy,
listening intently.
"Wha wad come to we'er door the |
nightp'' asked John, impatientlv. |
" YOU'RE aye talking foolitchness since |
that villain, that thief o. the world, Tim
O'Brien, went awa'.n
Two days previously the servant had |
taken his departure without giving warm
ing, or letting his master and mistress
have the slightest inkling of his inten-
ton. They had both been overworked |
since then, and the consequence was that
one was cross and the other tired and |
nervous.
Again the whistling, raging blast.
Mrs. Donnel shivered, and muttered a
prayer for all sailors and wanderers as
she threw more turf upon the blazing
hearth. There was strange cry at that
very moment. She went to the door
md unlocked it, and while the wind
burst in resistlessly, it brought some
hing like human figure in along
with it.
"Woman! woman!n screamed the
husband, jumping up with an
bath to re-shut and lock the door.
As the cloud of turf ashes began to
settle again, the figure, the gift of the
storm, was more distinctly seen. A mis-
,rable, stunted boy, thinly clad, without
zap or shoes and stockings, crouched
'ver the fire, holding his persisted hands
o the warmth. He had red hair, large
,lue eyes, and a gentle, intelligent face.
'eggy Donnel felt her heart drawn to-
ward him at once.
" Poor wean; but you're kilt wi the
vet an cold Did you come far the
ay?n she asked. Il
The poor boy lifted his large soft ewes
. her face without speaking.
"Be seated an warm yourself; the '
ude man makes you welcome" {
The boy sat down on the stool she
laced for him before the fire, and smil-
/ at her in silence. i
Who had the heart to let the likes /
you travel the night9 What do they
I'll You, my poor, wee man?'' :
No answer. 81 declare, he's dunn i