The Florida agriculturist. [volume] (DeLand, Fla.) 1878-1911, 1884-07-09
Mickey Firms Ride.

Grader bring home the pictur' caads, -
shouted six-vear-old Michael Finn. Jr.,
as his father started for work on bright
morning.
The Finn residence stands on the east
ern extremity of "Cooney Island" a
suburb of Rondout The dwellers there
are all hard toilers. The able-bodied
men work on the coal docks, while the
bows in the summer drive horses or mules
on the Delaware and Hudson canal
Mike Finn kept his boy parting words
in mind all day, and, after hard days
work in the hold of canal boat, he
went to several OF the Rondout stores
and procured three picture advertising
cards One of the pictures represented
red Cupid sitting upon yellow toad
stool and vainly trying to protect his
naked shoulders from Il shower of green
rain drops with an umbrella. Another
showed a Japanese lady in a bright pink
dress entering temple, and a sleepy
looking stork standing upon one leg in
pool near by. Three black crows stood
upon the dead limb OF tree in the third
picture, each slipping elixir from spoon
in the hands of seeming celestial visi
tants, while large frog was seen en-
deavoring to climb blade of grass in the
background. With the cards carefully
deposited in his pocket, Mike Finn
trudged homeward, anticipating little
Mickey's delight.
The youthful heir to the Finn estate
had, meantime, been left to his own de-
vices after dinner. Mrs. Murphy had
stopped in at the shanty ON her way to
Ponckhoclie to tell Mrs. Finn the thrill
ing story OF Patsey Doolan's wake at
IJy;Jb.,, fba Y,rax,to11s 1ipb+ "
"Well, Biddy," said Mrs. Murphy,
settling herself III the rocking chair and
lighting her pipe: twas the finest wake
liver was in Ulster county only poor Patti
niver be buri'dn'
"What's that He'll niver be burr ?'
said Mrs. Finn.
''Divil bit, then, Biddy. Let's see
who was there counting on her fingers.
Mrs. Flaherty was thare an Mrs. Coogan
was thare, that's two. Meself an me
man was thare, that's four. Pat Doolan
was there, av courSe-he was tn dead
man-an' Johnny O'Brien. Arrah, that
Johnny, he's tn divil, 50 he is. Shure
he was sittin' in tn corner behint the
dure, courtin' Mary Kelley. 1is, an
Biddv Cronin was there, keenin'. She
has the finest voice in four counties.
Shure, she can sing like nightingale.
'Mebbe We know Pat Doolan's. shtove
stud on bricks to lingthen the stovepipe.
Jist whin the b'ys an gurls ware
gittin' merry, Jack Flaherty took Roger
Dooley out in the yard to show him the
pig. Jack was that wake from sorrow
that his pipe fell in the sthy midst the
sthraw, Roger ran around forninst the
dure o'sthe shanty, wild eyes stickin out
and him that white"
Mrs. Murphy was so much overcome
with emotion that she rocked back ant
forth in her chair and uttered lncoheren
ordinations, to the intense disgust
Mrs. Finn, who was in an agony OF sus
pense.
"Where was I, Biddy?" resumed Mrs
Murphy. "Yis, Wis | have it. An
him that white He sez, seq he; Howl
Moses, the pigs on fret an thin tn
flames ken thro' the roof of the shanty
They all jumped for the dure like mad
Flaherty threw tn Wildly Cronin out c
the windy; Mike Welch knocked tn
sthoye over: meself was suffocated wi
schmoke, an me man dragged me out b
thu hair o. my head. An Pat Doolan-
poor Pat Doolan-was craymatid in hi
own house, widout him knowin' it, al
furninst his will, rest his sowl ~
Little Mike had improved the oppol
tunity afforded by Mrs. Murphy's excl
ing story to steal out of the front gate
He crept along i'll the shadow of tn
fence and ran across the road int
stumpy field. His fathers large, slice
nanny goat was tethered in the field b
long rope tied to stake. After fv
minutes hard work with tooth and mai
little Mike loosened the rope from tn
stake. Mounting upon the goats back
he rode off in search of adventure.
very novel picture was formed by tn
hatless and shoeless knight Grant astrid
the goat, as he rode up the grassy slop
of the field playing tattoo upon til
animals ribs with shiny stick an,
singing the refrain of pathetic ballad
Mush-a-ding-a- di-ah, shillaleh and all,
My blessin' go wild We, sweet Erin-go-brah,
while fifty feet of tarred rope dragged
behind. The course lay along the edge
Of disused quarry, where an almos
perpendicular wall rose sixty feet il
height. The blows Of the shiny sticl