Morning journal and courier., 1884-05-20
Mickey Finn's Goat Ride,
With a Preliminary Account of Patsey
 DOoIan's Wake.

a Account Rat9GV DOoIan's Wake.
 From the New York Sunl
 ':Fader, bring home the piotur' caards, ', shouted six-year-old Michael Finn, jr., as his father started for work on a bright morning
 The Finn residence stands on the eastern extremity of 'Cooney Island" suburb Of Rondout. The dwellers there are all hard toilers. The able-bodied men work on the coal docks, while the boys in the summer drive horses or mules on the Delaware and Hudson Canal.
 Mike Finn kept his boys parting words in mind all day, and after a 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 a red cupid sitting upon yellow toadstOol, and vainly trying to protect his naked shoulders from shower of green rain drops with an umbrella. Another showed Japanese lady in 8 very bright pink dress en- tsring a temple, and sleepy looking stork standing upon one leg in pool near by. Three black crows stood upon the dead limb of 6 tree in the third picture each slipping elixir from a spoon in the hands of seeming e1It1eav5r1ng tU- UImD'A urzuo of grass HI v1Io backaround. With the cards carefully de posted in his pocket. Mike Finn trudged homeward, anticipating little Mickey's de- light.
 The youthful heir to the Finn estate had, meantime, been left to his own devices after dinner. Mrs, Murphy had stopped in at the shanty on her way to PonekhockIe to tell Mrs. Finn the thrilling story of Patsey Doc lan's wake at Wilbur the previous night.
 ''WeIl, Biddy," said Mrs. Murphy, settling herself in the rocking chair and lighting her pipe, '"twas the finest wake iver was in Ulster county; only poor Patil niVer be buri'd9'' said Mrs Finn.
 "What's tha!? He'll niver be buri1?" said Mrs Finn.
 'Divil bit, then Biddy Let's see who was thare Counting on her fingers). Mrs Elaherty was thare an Mrs. Coogan was thare, that's two. Meself an me man was thare, that's four; Pat Doolan was thare, coorse he was in dead man-an' Johnny O'Brien. Arrah' that Johnny, he's tn divil, so he is. Shure he was sittin' in tn corner behint the dure, courtin' Mary Reilly. Yis, an Biddy Cronin was there, keenin'. She has the finest voice in four counties. Shure she can sing like 8 nightingale
 '.Mebbe ye know Pat Doolan's sthove stud on bricks to hngthin the sthovepipe. Jist whin the b'ys and gurls were gttin' merry, Jack Flaherty took Roger Dooley out in the yaard to show him the pig. Jack was that wake from sorrow that his pipe fell in the sthy among the sthraw. Roger ran around forninst the dure O the shanty wid eyes stickin' out, and him that white"
 Mrs. Murphy was so much overcome with emotion that she rocked back and forth in her chair and uttered incoherent exclamations, to the intense disgust of Mrs. Finn, who was in an agony of suspense.
 t'Where was I, Biddy?" resumed Mrs Mur- phy. ''Yis, yis I have it. An him that white! He sez, sez he: 'Howly Moses, the pigs on fire!' an thin tn flames kem thro' the roof O the shanty. They all jumped for the dure like mad. Flaherty threw tn Widdy Cronin out O the windy; Mike Welch knocked the sthove over; meself was suffycatid with schmoke, an me man dragged me out by tn hair O. me head. An Pat Doolan-poor Pat Doolan-was craymatid in his own house, widout him knowin' it, an forninst his will, rest his sowli"
 Little Mike had improved the opportunity afforded by Mrs. Murphy's exciting story to steal out of the front gate. He crept along in the shadow of the fence and ran across the road into Stumpy Field. His fathers large, sleek nanny goat was tethered in the field by q long rope tied to 8 stake. After i've minutes' hard work with both tooth and nail little Mike loosened the rope from the stake Mounting upon the goats back he rode of in search of adventure. A very Dovel picture was formed by the hatless and shoeless knight errant astride the goat, as he rode up the grassy slope of the field playing tattoo upon the animals ribs with 8 shinny stick and singing the refrain of pathetic ballad:
 Mush s-dinR- a. Ai- -ah, shillRleh and all
 Ny blessi'n go wid ys, sweet Firing, brsgh, while fifty feet of tarred rope dragged be- | hind The course lay along the edge of a disused quarry, where an almost perpend1cu- l lar wall rose sixty feet in height. The blows | of the shinny stick fell so heavily upon the | goats ribs that she protested vigorously, and l finally threw the boy upon the grass, and he | rolled down through the bushes fringlng the | ouarry's edge, and with sharp cry Of terror, | disappeared. The goats rope caught in the | bushes, and she broWsed in her new pasture | contentedly.
 The evening shadows slowly heightened in | the valley. Outlined against the western sky | was the portly form of Mrs. McGee. as she | called her ducks from Browns pond to their | evening meal. As the last flaming bannerets | of red and crimson died out of the west and | smoulderinR fires of Gross lime kiln gleamed | against the backRr ound of Lindsley's woods |
 The night was dark and stsress when l Michael Finn reached home.
 s.Where,s little Mike?' said he to Mrs Finn as she peered into 8 pot Duoolng musically upon the stove.
 ttShure dunno where he is," she replied stHe's afther lettin' the pig at the cabbidge this mornin, Mebbs he's over till O'Brieu's. I'll go and see
 But Mrs. O'Brien hadn't seen him.
 It soon became noised about the island that Mike Finn's boy was lost, and the shanty was quickly filled with sympathizing friends. The goats barrel was turned up, but no boy rolled out to greet the gazs of his grief strick- en mother. The country was secured in every direction, and lanterns twinkIed and torches famed on the hillsides. The clock in St. Mary's 1teeple was striking 10 when Phelim O'Rourke, standing upon knoll in Stumpy Field, heard the bleating of goat. He listened. Again the sound came clear and distinct Phelim started in the direction of the sound, stopping occasionally to listen, and as he heard the welcome bleat, resuming bis ceurse until he found the goat on the quarry's edge. His loud halloo called num- her of the searchers together, and the passage made by Mickey's body through the bushes