The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1879-09-25
cried she; the poor

! The storm ragged on, but the wanderer
was safe and happy. He stretched out
his bare feet on the warm flag stone, and
the steam rose from his rags, which had
| been soaked through with the rain.
Meanwhile Peggy set back her wheel,
lifted the pot from the crook, and filled
wooden bowl with mealy potatoes. The
| boy eyed them hungrily, and when she
spread a handful of salt on stool, and
put tin of milk into his hand, he need
ed no further invitation.
| John Donnel's i'll temper vanished as
he watched the child eat his supper, and
heard his sighs of contentment.
"Where shall he sleep? Tim o.
Brien's beds not made YET
"I'll shake straw in the, corner there
near the fire. replied Peggy, .'an'
throw wheen sacks over him. He'll
sleep rightly, I'll warrant him.
GAY; it'll be better nor the back o. Il
dixie, I'm thinking returned John.
| The poor creature was now quite dry
and warm; he lay down on the straw
that the kind woman prepared for him,
but he first caught hold of her hard
hand, and pressed his lips upon it.
"Look, John, look!n cried she, with
tears in her eyes; "did you ever see the
the like o. that?''
1t was twenty years since a child had
slept under that roof, full twenty years
since small black coffin had been car
ried down the mountain, containing
Peggy Donnel's son, and more than half
her heart. She dreamed of her dead
son that night as she had not dreamed
far very long time. She fancied that
he came to her bedside, and begged her
to be good to the friendless child for his
sake.
The storm lulled before dawn, and by
the time the Donnels got up to their
work the stranger was up also. When
Peggy took her milk pail, prepared to
go out to the byre, he sprang forward,
and took it from her hand. Smilingly
she consented to let him help her milk
Motley and Buttercup, and strain up the
the milk; then, while she made break
fast, he signed to John that it was his
wish to assist him also Very useful he
was in finding the cattle, and driving
them to fresh grazing ground; and he
did hundred helpful things during the
day.
"He'sa sight better than Tim O'Brien.
Let us keep him and he'll be as good a
boy as we could get'n said John Donnel
that evening. -......
'.What name shall we call him?" asked
Peggy, quite pleased at her husbands
proposal.
Z" Mel wad be good enough name,"
thought John.
So the dumb boy was called "Niel,"
was given suit of gray freize, and shoes
and socks, and became the servant in
stead of the truant, Tim O'Brien.
A season of extraordinary prosperity
began for the Donnels from the time
Mel came to them. No accident hap
the hens laid diligently, so that Peggy
made quantities of money by selling
eggs; the churn was always SO full of
butter that the staff would hardly move
in it; and butter was bringing eighteen
pence per pound in Letterkenny market.
If Donnel sold, he gained more than his
neighbors; if he bought, every thing
was cheap for him.
"We did weel to shelter the boy" he
was wont to remark, when anv striking
instance of Niel's industry or cleverness
came under his observation; but some
times, to his wife's anger and disgust, he
would animadvert upon the large appe-
tite of his little servant
Mel gained the goodwill of the few
neighbors who lived on the mountain;
but, what was more remarkable, he
seemed to have a strong attraction for
all birds and animals. The mice sang
in corners of the house; the cock and
hens loved to roost on the rail at the foot
of his bed; the cattle lowed and horses
neighed when he appeared; the singing
birds alighted on his shoulder in the
field; and the sea-gulls from their island
in the Tough flew to pick up insects at
his feet. An indescribable sense of
peace and well-being lowered over the
dwelling of which he was an inmate.
The very night after his arrival he
made a handsome bow, and each even
ing while Peggy sat at her spinning
wheel he made arrows, tossing them, as
he finished them, up to the loft. There
was large sheaf of arrows lying beside
the bow, but he never shot single one.
Why, but you TAX your bow an ar
rows out-bye an play yourself wee,
Mel, dear?" asked Mrs. Donnel, when
the bright spring evenings came but no
answer of any description was forthcom-
ing. 1t was a real vexation to her that
she had no means of discovering why he
had made the bow and went on making
so many arrows.
When May eve arrived, and flames
leaped up from fires on every hill, |
and dark figures moved round the
blaze; when the glow was reflected in
the Tough, and the gulls flew screaming
in a thick white cloud from their island, /
disturbed by the unusual noise; and the
snipe whirred by, bleating their aston
that most enchanting night
Of all the year, Mrs. Donnel's dumb
servant was greatly agitated More
than once he went to the door to gaze
at the fair scene without, and returning,
as if with a strong effort, to his kind
side, kissed her hand-his IA
vorite mode of showing his affection.
"He's crying, the crathur,n said Peg
~ on one of these occasions "Maybe
It's because you scolded him this morn
NO. John for inst naethinp ava ;,