Western liberal. (Lordsburg, N.M.) 1887-1919, 1891-08-14
TIMMY'S RALLY.

Little Jimmy Mulligan was very sick.
Some Of his chums said in an awed
whisper, "He is dyin' dis time, sure
pop"
No more would his 0-year-old war
whoop resound around the orne No.
more would the lake front know Jimmy,
his bare feet, and his stone bruises.
Never again would he occupy the pitch
er's box and captain the "Red Hots, de
champeeus NV all dc 0-year-olds IN de
wes'-side"-a nine which, through Capt.
Timmy's mastery inshoots, had attained
proud pre-eminence. Never again would
Jimmy refresh his iaded spirits by
throwing rocks ut the Italian on the cor
ner, who had incurred his enmity by
once refusing him a banana.
Jimmy was as sturdy a youngster as
ever the west side turned out; he was as
manly and self reliant us the average
Chicago 9-year-old. lie was the cock Of
the walk among all his companions-the
best swimmer, the best fighter and the
best pitcher in the ward. The neighbor-
hood was lonesome without Jimmy.
People could not imagine "what was on
tue boy" on2e so hearty and vigorous,
to keep to his bed.
The little iavalid lay stretched out on
his couch as fat and pallid as n pancake,
in tho front room away up in Sylvester
Mulligan's ten story fat building. The
ne.ghbors were coming in dRves to
cheer up the ailing youngster.
you're not goan 10 lave me, yer poor
ould miiher, are yc, Jimmy ashoreF'
walled his Iaother, rocking from side to
side in her frenzy of grief, like a ship in
a storm. her voice choked with grief, her
eyes drowned in tears.
"Yo were allus a dutiful child to me,
Jimmy %alanna, and ye wud not be afther
levin yer poor old mither to fight the
wurll alone. now wud ye? You're the
only boy I have left, Jimmy, and yen
not lave me now afther rGisin' ye as long
as l have. Sphake to him, Father Muir
ply; plase do, yer rivirince-hen moind
you. He wuz allus a good hearted boy,
though a trife wild. Rayson wild him,
father. The fayver has rached his brain,
and he turns his face to the wall from
me. He won't sphake to me. Oh, it's
heart scalded / amr'
Whats this l hear, Jimmy, about
your talking Of dying?" cheerfully sung
out the good Father Murphy, approach
ing the bedside of the little sufferer and
taking the boys wasted hand in his own.
''Why, you're worth a dozen dead mel
yet. ! could never spare you in the
world. Who could l put in your place
as monitor IN the school? Who else could
/ get to run ny errands and to bring Inc
my Evening News. eh? Why, Jimmy,
my boy, you are indispensable to the
parish you're a little pillar Of the
church-all by yourself. You're only
pretending 10 be s~ick-you who were al
ways so strong and hearty, with the rosi-
est cheeks and the brightest eye of all
the lads for squares around. Brace up,
and leave all thoughts Of dying to old
folk like your mother and myself. Do
you hear, Timy7
Tim lid hear, holding his head fever
ishly upon his clammy pillow. His eyes
burned with nm unnatural fire. They
hai tne appealing glance Of a wounded
would melt your heart but to
l9ak 10 t4eu.
Th invalid tossed uueasily upon
the earning hair, damp with
p ll,i9l r' pain, strayed uneasily
Ger te 1H Hi- eliza hands beat the
corele with tla r..r iuc Or a sturdy
yo ualsa t9 eloa close c%onfine-
mao il word.
avon SON q word for your old
my boyf asked Father
HurIay softly
h.r lorfeF 0Neilif' yelled out
Tlulg iI.n ne less of the worthy
pro Cl % ulnter soc Corkeyi
bnas im ~ sn tln late"
-,r1y Vt insanity produced, shuf-
finc sh~ameiacelly across the room Ia
tho bedside Of his stricken coinrade.
Tins BROW was knitted in meditation.
Hls fingers played a tattoo on the
blanket. He had a load on his mind he
wanted 30 dump. Turning restlessly,
lac uhbMdensd himself thus;
"I done So up two weeks ter day,
Corkay.
Corzoy admitted the "doing up"
"ant 4 l9ut ye iwr GOrkeyi / didn't
uee brass kuqoslasf
rorkey wa forced S. declare that
brsH tuuolle toot Qaeuye part in tho
youthtul encounter
"Yesed Z wuz q 'anide, Corkey. didn't
yer
ItAppeared that cOsEsy had said %.