Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1886-12-31


else. 'Twould have been dull time
but for Miss Ellen Doyle. She was
the one to be always singing, Joking
or laughing, and the days sped rapid
ly until the ninth after the young gen
tlemen had set out on their Journey.
Twas Friday night remember il
well, Tor sorra bit OF fish could get
for dinner that day; and Miss Ellen
laughed when | came back empty
handed, and says she: I'VE shan't
dine to day, Mally; well just wait till
tea time" And so they did. Passing
nine 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 all
about Kerry We were sitting round
the table, our knitting IN our hands.
| was between the young ladies, and
had Just opened my mouth TO say that
tho story | meant to give them was
called the Banshee of Gcbkillin, when,
! without n bit OF warning, my darling.
Miss Kathleen, gave sudden start.
The stock whip. she cried. Il heard
1t distinctly. Miss Kathleen trembled
like an aspen leaf, and called to mind
Masther Shane's words, my heart
sank within me. She lay back in her
/ chair without sign OF life, her fair
! young face convulsed with such look
of terror as | never saw before or
/ since"
1--WE got her into bed, and then Miss
ELAN rau out for a doctor, and
CHANGING to meet Mr.. Webb, the sur
geon of the ship that carried us to
Melbourne, brought him back with
her. He was both kind and skillful.
and did his best for my stricken dar-
ling; but he told Us plump and plain
! that her case was n mortal bad one.
Twas brain fever she had, and for
weeks she lay 'twixt life and death,
raving ever and always OF her cousin
and the danger he was in.
The fever was at it's height, when,
late one night, young Edward Doyle
Knocked at the door. Ochone, but
he had the bad news to tell. Master
Shane, the last and best of his race,
was dead, murdered by the blacks. 1t
was on the ninth evening after they
left Melbourne that the savaces set
upon them, taking them at unawares
rs they sat around their camp fire.
But n volley from the white mems
pistols sent the blacks back into the
bush bowling like fiends. Then it was
that the master, vowing vengeance on
the savages. plunged into the wood in
hot pursuit of them. The others fol
lowed, but in the darkness lost sight
OF him; nor did they find the poor boy
till daybreak. He was lying under a
tree quite dead, with the blood
slowly oozing from out deep
wound in his side. He had flung
away his empty pistol, but his right
hand still gripped the heavy whip
with which he had seemingly de
Tended himself against his enemies
They buried him where he fell, under
the shade OF n blue gum, with only
rude cross at his head to mark where
the last OF the O'Connells fell. "
such was the sad tale young Doyle
told us, the tears running down his
cheeks the while, for he loved Mas
ther Shane like brother, and his
heart ached for Miss Kathleen. The
doctor shook his head when he heard
the'story. 'Twould be n merciful
thing, he said, provided his patient did
recover, that all recollection of the
past should have faded from her mind.
'She did recover, poor darling but
very slowly. At first We thought her
memory was entirely gone BY degrees,
however, she began TO remember, and
by and by asked for her cousin. To
please her we said he had gone on n
long Journey up country, and when
we found she believed il Mr. Webb
told US to keep up the deusion.
"Well, Miss, there isn't much more
TO tell Miss Ellen Doyle married the
English officer who was so sweet on
her during the voyage out, and went
with him to Tasmania. About the
same time Squire Doyle's eldest son
having been killed in the hunting field,
Misther Edward was written for by
his father But before he went he had
this cottage built and furnished for
Miss Kathleen; and he and Mrs. Mai.
Gayworthy-E Doyle that was
settled pension on my mistress that |
keeps her in comfort. Here we've hv- /
ed for over thirty years and except /
for the longing she has to see her cous- I
In, 1t hasn't been altogether an unhap- /
Ply time for my poor lady. | used t. .
worry myself, thinking how lonesome .
she'd feel il | were taken first. But .
since she's come to know and love /
you, Miss, I've been quite easy; for I
should anything happen to ould NAL
", know you'd never see her at
loss"
The old Irish woman had told her
tale with emotion. Nor could | for
the moment help crediting the super.
element in the story. But at
this moment Miss Moonshee's voice
was heard calling me by name, md |
hurried to the sitting-room. New
er had seen her more
Her eyes were sparkling
her cheeks crimson, and she smiled
gaily as | entered MY dear"
she cried, ~ have had such n sweet
dream, all about the dear friend you
have often heard me mention-my
cousin Shane. But must first show
you his likeness And with fingers
that trembled sadly the poor lady
opened a locket she always wore, dis
closing the miniature OF fine looking