The Warner sun. (Warner, Brown Co., Dakota [S.D.]) 1885-1???, 1886-03-12
LOST At THEFLAX MILL.
A STORY.

TWO poor allllllGS, CelSOftIIeu Il dld
wide as the best ne;ghbors ever known
or heard of. II Martin wanted Il hand
with his harvest, Donnelly was ready
to give it and ask no wages, and the
kindness was returned when the pOta-
to digging came on. Their wives also
lived in the greatest harmony, and
they we're such close n~eighbOrs that
they met continually, for n roof
covered the two houses.
This long cabin, or rather range OF
cabins, stood on the banks Of Mulroy,
an inlet Of the Atlantic, so landlocked
as to look like a lake. Behind to wered
gigantic heather crowned mountains;
infront lay the high road leading from
the sea to Milford, the nearest mar
ket town, a winding road, hard and
white from limestone, now dipping
down into a valley, now mounting up
a sharp hill, and always keeping close
to the blue waters OF Mulroy, divided
from it by a shelving bank iestooned
with woodbine. MulrOy was studded
with many is!ands-isIands sacred to
the "wee folks" islands in possession
of the sea birds; islands where sleepy
broad Drowned seals basked
on warm evenings. Beyond Null
roy rose o mountains, the
nearer hills cultivated to their
SUBMITS, the more distant so pale
and indistinct that they were like
smoke-colored phantoms against the
sky. Errigal, a cone-shaped noun
tain, the last point OF Irish earth seen
by the emigrants as they sailed to
America, and Muckish, the pigs back,
were most prominent in the range.
The Martins and Donnellys did not
know they were looking at one OF the
loveliest landscapes in the world.
They thought Mulroy a wild, desolate
place.
Sometimes the deep silence of the,
place was broken by the keening OF
mourners or chant of priests, and then
the children in the cabins would run
out to the road, and look up and
down.
A long procession wound from the
sea-coast, on it's way to wonder
burial grounds beneath the chapel at
the edge of the lake-a holy
spot, marked by a forest OF black
wooden crosses. The priest walked
first; then came the coffin, followed by
a motley company-men in long gray
stockings, knee breeches, and brogues,
mounted on shaggy ponies, andwomen
seated behind them dressed in home
spun and scarlet headgear. The keen
ing woke the mountain echoes, the
fairy glen throwing back the sound to
the fax mill that stood, gaunt and
grim, by the roadside; then the crying
and chanting died away aud 1ocks OF
eurlew and plover c~ircling overhead
sang a shrill requiem. Two of the
children were wont to follow the pro-
eession-Teague Martin and Mary
Donnelly. They were inseparable,
toddling hand in hand to school, hand
in hand to chapel, playing together,
herding the COWS together on the
knowes. They would follow the pro-
cession as FAR as the fax mill a mile
from their own doors, and would STAY
there to play. The goss1ps OF the
country remarked the tender friend
ship of the children, andforetold that
1t would end in matrimony.
The first separation of these little
friends took place when they were
thirteen years old, and league was
hired by q farmer. Mary moped and
fretted when he was gone, wandered
sadly to the flax mill, their old play
place, and then wandering back again
with her head hanging down. But she
found some consolation in knitting
his socks, washing his clothes, and
carrying the little bundle to him on a
Saturday at the farmhouse.
Things did not turn out as theneigh-
bors expected. The friends did not
become lovers; they remained devot-
ed friends, but they married strangers.
Years went by. The old Martins and
Donneliys We're "gatheredto their faith
ers, and Mary and her huband, and
league and his wife, lived on in the
Oidcabins, thunder the roof wi other
and the good 'neighborhood was the
same as ever. Time passed; they
grew middle aged, then old; the days
when they had played at the flax mill
were very far away.
One day Mary Ma taken very ILL
SO III that the priest was sent for. She
received the last rites of the church,
and then she asked for league. He
was at q distance-gone to Milford
with cattle to sell-would not return
home till late. Mary watched the
door as long as her sight lasted.
us there no word OF Teague?v was
her constant question. His name was
che last upon her lips.
A woeful man was league when he
found his old friend gone. He walked
beside her husband after the coffin, and
saw her laid low in the ~churchyard
IA MAM W4--.M Il n M. 49, IN - 90 49,