National Republican., 1883-03-03

Holion went on his way with his pigs, the
sharp words of Ann Lynch ringing through
,his brain. He knew he was repusive-look-
ing, and TO him, Hanorah Narly was as beau
ful as the dawn. He wished her aunt had
not spoken of him in that way before Hano-
rAh; for Pat Holion loved the girl with
chivalrons devotion which was as a religion
unto him. HanOrah was only q poor girl.
She had never worn q bonnet nor pair Of
Shoes and stockings In her life; yet the re-
spectful homage yielded up to her by Pat
lloion was such rs an empress might feel
grateful for The girl was q rustic belle; the
mcrrCst laugh at fair or wake was HOnorah
Varily's hers was the lightest foot in the
dance and she had lovers in plenty. Pat
lIOion wOrshipcd her Unknown to her
he followed her home constantly FROM wakes
aud dances simply for the purpose of keeping
watch over her to make sure that no one in
suited her. She was the lodeslar of his exist
cncc, hut aware of his own personal defects,
the man never dared to aspire to be one Of her
| lovers. Ill
lie was the pig driver at "thl big house."
and, having put up his charges for the night,
Pat Holion wcnded his way toward his own
little cabin, where he lived with two unmar
ricd sisters, somewhat older than he was
| They were hard working, swarthy, low sized
women, much of the same stamp rs their
brother, who was soon seated at his supper of
potatoes and buttermilk.
Bridget Holion stood ut the cabin door knit
ting. Not stocking for herself-for neither
she nor her sister had ever worn a shoe or n
stocking in their lives--but for sale at the
| town of Cong on market and fair days.
There's Hanorah Varily crossin' down by
Murtagh's borreea," she said suddenly. AN
sure enough there's Pierce Joyce wild her i!
It's tue fine couple they do makel"
| "Ay," assented her sister, coming TO the
door aud shading her eyes with her hand as
she looked after the rcceding figures. "An'
n good thing it 'ud be il Pierce joyce or some
sore an sorry time av it she does have wild
ould Ann Lynch"
Il suppose they're goin' to the dance az
Bob Kenealy's," said Bridget. "Well, well !
God be wild the time whin could fut II wild
anyone"
The dance at Bob Kenealy's had been long
| looked forward to in the neighborhOod. IL
was one of the events of the summer in the
estimation of the young men and maidens for
full three parishes round. Not TO DO seen
there would have been virtually taken as a
declaration that the unfortunate wight was
not in society y in Gortnachurra or Moytura,
aud, for that matter, even so far away as
| Cong itself. Many were the appointments
made by the lads and lasses for days before
No one in the parish had more engagements
than had pretty Hanorah Varily. Chiefest
among her suitors was Pierce Joyce, n we'll
to-do man, with two cows q horse, and cart,
and at present, fine field of turnips. But
to give Hanorah Yarily her due, she did not
value Pierce Joyce so much for these material
advantages as for his own handsome, coax
ing self. Was he not the finest man among
all the Joyces in the barony, race famed
for their great physical strength, gigantic
stature, and rare beauty?
Pierce Joyce was over six feet two In
height, and was the best wrestler dancer, and
plougher in the parish. And the sight Of his
handsome, dark, Spanish looking face and
stalwart form, as he came TO the door Of her
aunt's cabin shortly after Pat Holion and his
pigs had left, caused Hanorahs heart TO pull
safe wildly. Ann Lynch was q wise woman
in her day aud generation. She knew Pierce
. Joyce would be splendid match for poor
| girl like Hanorah, and therefore allowed her
self to be persuaded into permitting her niece
to go to the dance.
In her bare feet, bareheaded, too, Hanorah
Narily tripped over the fields by the side Of
Pierce Joyce. She wore no finery of any
| kind. A bit of lace or ribbon she had never
possessed during her existence; aud as for
collars and cuffs, Hanorah Yarily had no use
for them. For she always wore her sleeves
short to her elbows and the front of the body
sloped low, across which was pinned little
checked shawl. A short, bed gown sort of
dress Of blue cotton, with small white spots
on it, faded red lindsey petticoat, completed
her attire. Her eyes were sparkling and her
checks flushing rs, looking the very incarna-
tion of youth, beauty, and health, Hanorah
Varily, accompanied by her stalwart, hand
some cavalier, stepped into Bob Kenealy's big
barn, where a considerable number of the COM
pany had already assembled.