Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1885-12-13

! But Mas Kathleen had no eyes say. W.
her cousin. and Miss Ellen fouted them
All to their faces, all but q young Eng.
fish officer. who had smile now and
again from her--just to keep up his
heart, she said.
Eve took close on five months to
make the voyage, and pleased oil on
hosyd we're when the anchor was drop
ned in Uobson's bay. Melbourne was
= small place in the year we landed,
more like q village than the great city
of to-day. But the young folks were
| in high spirits, ready to make the best
of every thing, even the dirty inn they
were forced TO put up at the first night
ashore. Next day the gentlemen hired
a small four-roomed cabin, into which
we moved, and where the young things
we're as happy as the day was long.
1t had been arranged that Miss kath-
leen's wedding was not to take place
until Masther Shane and young Doyle
had built their house on the land allot-
ted to them somewhere in the Western
district, the ladies remaining in Mel
bourne under ould Mally's charge du-
ring their absence.
1.-THE night before they left | was
cooking the supper in the kitchen,
when Masther Shane called me into the
parlor. The young Doyles were out,
and he and Miss Kathleen were sitting
together on the sofa. Her head was
hidden on his shoulder, and she was
crying bitterly; while he, poor boy,
troubled look on his handsome face,
was trying to comfort her but 'twasn't
bit Of use. SHANE she sobbed,
Its the first time we've been parted,
and my heart tells me we shall never
meet again.
'Mally,' says the masther despair
ingly, what can ! say to comfort herr
Then sudden thought striking him, he
turned to his cousin with smile, and
Mavourneen,' says he, you haven't
forgotten the ould story we read long
ago of the brave Sir Roland, who sound
ed his horn in the Pass of Roncevalles
in the Pyrenees, when he was
sore beset by the Moors, and how
Charlemagne, the great Emperor,
heard the sound where he was hunting,
more than a hundred miles away?'
She said she remembered the tale.
WELL says he, am not your own
true knight, ashore? And, although
| haven't horn like the gallant Sir
Roland, have something just as
good--a stout stockman's whip. So,
if danger befall, I'll just fetch sound
ing smack with the lash, ana here in
this cabin you'll hear the noise
HE was smiling all the time he was
speaking, but Miss Kathleen took it Sc
riously. You won't forget says she.
Sure and | won't, says he, if you
promise not to fret till you hear the
sound of the LASH L PROMISE says
she, and with that Miss Ellen and her
brother came in at the front door, and
| went back to the kitchen.
"Well, Miss, Masther Shane and his
friend started next day with half a
dozen men and four wagons. You'll
take care of Miss Kathleen, said the
poor boy wistfully when bidding me
good:oy, and should anything happen
to me you'll never desert her, will you
Mally?' Can you doubt it, said |.
But what should happen to one as is
prayed for by q pure saint like my
Young lady?' what, indeed ? NUT
tered he, and then he wrung my hand
and hurried off to take his last kiss
from the sweet lips he loved so well,
little thinking twas the very last on
this side the grave.
$50 we were left alone, the two
young ladies and myself, in the little
cabin in Melbourne. Miss Kathleen
kept her word and didn't fret, though
many a time her heart was full. She
Just went quietly about the house,
thinking of her cousin and naught else.
'Twould have been a dull time but
for Miss Ellen Doyle. She was the
one to be always singing, joking,
or laughing, and the days sped rap
idly until the ninth after the young
gentlemen had set out on their jour
ney. Twas Friday night rcmem-
Der it we'll, for sorra bit Of fish could
| get for dinner that day; and Miss
Ellen laughed when came back empty
handed. and says she = We shan't dine
to-day, Mally; we'll just wait till tea,
time And SO they did. Passing 8
E O'Clock they would have me into the
parlor. For Mally,' says Miss Ellen
we want You to tell us one of your
capital stories. Let it be about Kerry.
We were sitting round the table, ouI
, knitting in our hands. was be-
tween tie young ladies', and had Just
opened my mouth to say that the story
] meant to give them was called the
Banshee of Gobkillin. when, without s
, bit Of warning, my darling Miss kath
I leen gave a sudden start The stock
whip she cried; | heard it distinct
p W. Miss Kathleen trembled like al
a aspen leaf, and calling to mind Masthe
, Shane's words my heart sank within
q me. She lay back in her chair withou
= a sign Of life, her fair young face con
. vulsed with such look Of terror as
never saw before or since.
? 1--WE got her into bed, and then Mis-
: Ellen ran out for doctor, and chan
Q cling to meet Mr.. Webb, the surgeon o
# the ship that carried us to Melbourne
o brought him back with her. He wa
o both kind and skilful, and did his bes
II for my stricken darling; but he toll
IS us plump and plain that her case was
= mortal bad one. Twas brain fever sh
It had, and for weeks she lay 'twixt lif
!, and death, raving ever and always q
II her cousin and the danger he was in.
| "The fever was at its height, wher
it late one night, young Edward Doyl
le knocked at the door. Ochone but h
). had the bad news to tell. Masthe
e Shane, the last and best of his race
was dead, murdered by the bloodthirst
s. blacks. 1t was on the ninth evenin
It after they had left Melbourne that tn
d savages set upon them, taking them .
1T unawares as they sat round their cam
" fire. But avolley from the white men
10 pistols sent the blacks back into the bus