Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1889-02-07

Va Y upon the ponce run,
w y and we took to each
"a other from the start.
getting fully acquainted i'll n man
ner and with a rapidity characters
tic OF bohemians. We saw much OF
each other-"trotted in pairs" as he
used to put it in his quaint way. His
name was McMorris. He had Chris
tian name, to be sure, but the affection
ately diminutive appellation of 'Mac, F"
which came so readily to our lips and
seemed so peculiarly fitted to him, sup
planted it. He was an 1rishman-a
Limerick boy. Mac was typical Celt;
light-hearted, witty, full of anecdotes,
good-natured, good looking in his biz
ARE way, and first-class newspaper
man. His bright companionship served
TO haste the dragging hours of many a
weary night when the sergeant, the re-
serve, Mac and myself sat there in the
gloomy Central Police Station, waiting,
like the immortal Micawber, for some
thing to turn up. Now and then he
sang us an Irish song in his irresistibly
comic manner. with q brogue that
smacked OF the innermost recesses OF the
bog, or some pathetic ballad OF Erin
which brought tears to some eyes, and
even subdued the dyspeptic jailer.
1t was in tho spring, shortly after
twelve one night, that We sat in tho
chiefs office, playing the inevitable
friendly game, when the patrol wagon
rolled up to the side door, and the ser
geant left us to attend to the new arriv-
al. Mac and / took advantage of the
pause to fill our pipes, and awaited for
the sergeant's return.
''What is it, Dempsey asked Mac,
as an officer passed through the hall.
"Simple drunk"
Just then notes.-the sound of voices
came from the big room. Mac
started up.
"a woman girl, and pretty one
ct that, or her voice bellies her." he said.
"Sure it's not for McMorris to be cool
ing his heels outside when there's n
woman within. Let's have look at
her."
Grumbling somewhat, l hastily fol-
lowed. Macs quick ear and ready in
stinct had not deceived him. Before
the desk stood girl of fifteen or there
abouts, pretty beyond question, with
one of those piquant faces which invari-
ably attract oae. She was poorly, but
neatly, dressed, and glance at her face
WINS sufficient to convince a discerning
person that she was not one of those do
PRAYED creatures who are born in the
gutter and return to it at maturity. She
was undoubtedly under the influence Of
liquor to some extent, but the arrest,
the mad ride in the patrol, the sight of
the blue coats, and the examination had
sobered her somewhat. She looked from
face to face with mute appeal in her
fearful, misty-gray eyes, and finding no
pity nor consideration there, now and
then glanced towards the door, as if con-
templating break for liberty. Mac
lounged up and looked ut the sergeant's
record. 1t said "Maggie Ryan, drunk,
fifteen years, Irish American, domestic.
No property on person.
He turned to the girl and again sur
veyed her, this time more critically aud
with something IKE sorrow in his face.
Her dull eyes met his, and their gaze
rovel no further, as if in that frank and
honest countenance they saw-even
through the veil created by the fumes
of alcohol-pity, consideration, even
friendship.
"Lock her up" said the sergeant,
shortly.
"Wait a minute" said Mac, without
taking his eyes from the face before him.
| started, for although he was crotch
ETY. to fault, | had never seen him pay
the slightest atieation to an ordinary
s'drunk"
"Wait minute, Cronin," he repeat
ed, addressing the iailer as that surly
functionary approached her.
"Wait nothin' !" snarled the turnkey.
eff You want to interview her, do it
through the gratin'."
"rake your dirty hand of of her, you
murdherin blaggnrd or I'll break every
bone in your body r cried Mac, who
was evidently in one of his moods, for
whenever lie was excited or moved a
touch O. the brogue coIored his speech.
Then: ssSure, it's not for the likes of
you to touch her. Step back or I'll
take your kays away from you and lock
you up in one of your own dirty pens"
The turnkey wisely retreated, ns he
knew better than to trifie with the wild
Irishman when his blood was up, for the
manner in VIII eh Mac had tanned sever
oil tough characters whom the police
could not handle was proof enough OF
his bravery and prowess.
The girls eyes 'dilated at this, and
looked wonderinely at her protector,
who, as calm as ever, leaned against the
desk and eyed her reAectively.
'What kind of girl is shel" he
asked.
"a bad un," said one Of the officers,
quickly, proceeding to give her a de-
tai i certificate OF character that would
hav> auificed for her commitment to
the E-,se of Correction.
"Its not true " she cried holly,
her blue grey Irish eyes flashing
fire, ooh, sir, don't believe word OF it.
He was civil enough to me coming
mp here in The wagon; but | slapped
his face and he threatened to have ne