Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1886-04-29
IOSTAT THE FLAX MILL

In the beautiful district of Fannet, OIL
the coast of Donegal,near Lough Swilly
the Lake of Shadows-liYed two poo
celebrated far and wide as the bes
neighbors ever known or heard of. Ii
Martin wanted hand with his harvest
Donnelly was ready to give it and ask
no wages, and the kindness was returned
when the potato digging came on. TheiI
wives also lived in the greatest harmony
and they were such close neighbors thai
they met continually, for one roof COW
cred the two houses.
This long cabin, or rather range oi
cabins, stood on the banks of Mulroy, ,ar
inlet of the Atlantic, so landlocked as tC
look like a lake. Behind lowered gigan
tic heather crowned mountains; in front
lay the high road leading from the sea
to Milford, the nearest market town, a
winding road, hard and white frem
limestone, now dipping down into val
ley, now mounting up sharp hill, and
always keeping close to the blue waters
of Mulroy, divided from it by shelving
bank festOened with woodbine. Mulroy
was studded with many islands islands
sacred to the wee folks islands in pos
session of the sea birds; islands where
sleepy, broad-browed seals basked on
warm evenings. Beyond Mulroy rose
more mountains, the nearer hills culti-
waited to their SUBMITS, the more distant
so pale and indistinct that they were
like smoke. colored phantoms against the
sky. Errigal. cone shaped mountain,
the last point of Irish earth seen by the
emigrRnts as they sailed to America, ,and
MGckish, the pigs back, was most prom
inent in the range.
The Martins and Donnellys did not
know that they were looking at one of
the loveliest landscapes in the world.
They thought Mulroy wild, desolate
place.
Sometimes the deep silence of the
place was broken by the keening of
mourners or chants 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 its way to yonder burial
ground 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 motely company men in
long gray stockings, knee breeches, and
brogues, mounted on shaggy ponies, and
women seated behind them dressed in
homespun and scarlet headgear. The
keening woke the mountain echoes, the
fairy glen throwing back the sound to
the flax mill that stood, gaunt and grim,
by the roadside; then the crying and
chanting died away and flocks of curlew
and plover circling overhead sang shrill
requiem. Two of the children were
wont to follow the procession-Teague
Martin and Mary Dannelly. 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
procession as far as the fax mill, mile
from their own doors, and would stay
there to play. The gossips of the coun
try remarked the tender friendship Of
the children, and fore5old that it would
end in matrimony.
The first separation of these little
friends took place when they were thir-
teen years DID, and league was hired
by farmer. Mary moped and fretted
when he was gone, wandering sadly to
the fax 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 Saturday at the
farm house.
Things did not turn out as the neigh
bors expected. The friends did not be-
come lovers; they remained devoted
friends, but they married strangers.
Years went by. The old Martins and
Dennellys were gathered to their faith
ers,' and Mary and her husband, and
league and his wife lived on in the old
cabins, thunder the roof wi other and
the good heighborheod was the same as
ever. Time passed; they grew middle
aged, then old; the days when they had
played at the fax mill were far away.
One day Mary was taken very ill-so
i'll that the priest was sent for. She re-
ceived the last rites of the Church, and
then she asked for league. He was at a
distanoe-gope to Milford with cattle to
sell-would not return home till late.
Mary watched the door as loug as her
sight lasted.
is there no word of Teague?' was her
constant question. His name was the
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 mold,
and then he came back to the cabins, the
truest mourner she had. But work had
to be done, though his heart was heavy,
and the next evening he took his fax to
the mill.
AS he logged along the limestone road
in his cart he was suddenly aware of al
figure seated beside him on the bundles
nf fay How had she pok thara9 Hal