Connecticut western news., 1879-09-03
The Fairy Guest.

AAO AtuAA "uCoUs
 John and Peggy Donnel lived half- way up Dcorish Mountain, in region of frequent mist and storm. Far eown below them lay Gartsn Lough, embo- somsd in rugged, furze-oovered hills, and above and around stretched mile upon mile of mountain-acres of heath CT, the abode of grouse innumerable :; patches of grass where droves of sheep and cattle grazsd and inaccessible heights, known only to the golden eagle and her wild brood.
 Donnel was drover, .. G., bought up cattle, let them graze upon the noun tains, and sold them when fattened. He was very comfortably of, and his cot tage was we'll built and thatched. He found no difficulty in paying his rent to the day, and had always abundance of such simple food and clothing as satis- fled his desires. It was a November night of storm and rain. The gusts thundered at the door, tossing the bare arms of few stunted sycamores that grew near the house; they had swept along mountain detiles and across the gray waters of the tough, and now shrieked and howled madly round the gable. An occasional Hull in the storm brought the clamor of sea-gull and cry of blower to Donnel's ear. He locked the door, stuffed wisp of straw under it to keep out the cold wind, and sat down opposite Peggy in the ample ch;m- newcomer.
 ''God send the cattle has found shel- ter the n1ghtr' said he, shaking the ashes out of his pipe.
 Peggy was spinning. She stopped her wheel suddenly to ask, "D:d you not hear something, John dear G''
 "Ay, Peggy, I heard the sough O the wind"
 Whist, whist, honeyi there it was again it wasns Ike the wind"
 "Sure it was the sea-gull an the plo- var," replied her husband, carelessly.
 Just then another blast of hurricane swept across the lake and thundered at the door, tossing the carefully arranged wisp of straw into the middle of the kitchen.
 "It was pitiful cry, but it wasna the birds, let alone the wind" said Peggy, listening intently.
 "Wha wad come to we'er door the night?" asked John, impatiently. "You're aye talking foolitehness since that villain, that thief O the wolll, Tim O'Brien, went awa."
 Two days previously the servant had taken his. departure without giving warning, or letting his master and mis. tress have the slightest inkling of bis intention. They had both been over. worked since then, and the consequence was that one was cross and the other tired and nervous.
 Again the whistling raging List. Mrs. Donnel shivered, and muttered 6 prayer for all sailors and wanderers as she threw more turf upon the blazing hearth. There was strange cry at tha very moment. She went to the dool and unlocked it, and while the winG burst in resistlessly, it brought some thing like human figure in alone with it.
 "Woman woman l" screamed tho outraged husband jumping up with al oath to re-shut and lock the door.
 As the cloud of turf ashes began t. settle again, the figure, the gift of th storm, was more distinctly .rrseen. { miserable, stunted boy, thinly clad without cap or shoes and stockings crouched over the fire, holding hi perished hands to the warmth. He ha' red hair, large blue eyes, and a gentle intelligent face. Peggy Donnel felt he heart drawn toward him at once.
 "Poor wean; but you're kilt wi tn vet an cold. Did you come far tn day ?" she asked.
 The poor boy lifted his large gof eyes to her face without speaking.
 Be seated an warm yourself tn gude man makes you welcome"
 The boy sat down on the stool sh placed fer him before the fire, an smiled at her in silence.
 "Who had the heart to let the like O you travel the night? What do the call you, my poor wee man 1"
 No answsr. "Ideclare he's dumm, John," cried she; " the poor wean l"
 The storm ragged on, but the wander' was safe and happy. He stretched o1 his bare feet on the warm hag-ston and the steam rose from his rags, whie had been soaked through with the raj Meanwhile Peggy set back her vince lifted the pot from the crook, and file 8 wooden bowl with mealy potatoe The boy eyed them hungrily, and whs she spread handful of salt on stoc and put tin of milk into his hand. required no further invitation.
 John poppel's ill temper vanished