The Irish standard., 1891-09-05
ANECDOTEoF REDPATH's READYTACT

He was being driven along more O
less rough roadway on jaunting car 0
the usual style, when the cold gra,
mare of Mike the jaryey" missed hel
footing and he was thrown off, the fal
resulting in fracture in the right
wrist. This OF course somewhat inca
pacitated him in his work, which fol
the time being was done under his
supervision by an Irish fellow crafts
man. & convention was held in Dub.
lin few days subsequently,. and the ap.
pearance of the well known scribe with
his arm in a sling, ''as an evidence" as
he said. that he was willing to be in
the front ranks on the hillsides," ;"
brought out burst Of such genuinely
enthusiastic applause as only can be
beard from the lips Of 5000 men ready
to sacrifice even life itself in defense Of
their families and their fresides. The
writer heard him afterward say that
the memory Of that scene was one of
the pleasantest Of his life, and repaid
him a thousand fold for all be had doue
or ever could do in behalf Of the lush
race. A story he told Of Mike the
jarvey will bear repetition. In little
valise which Redpath took with him
was a small supply of brandy and
whisky. The only drinking vessel to
be had was a. small silver cup, such as
usually dts on the bottom of a flask and
Mike was given bis choice OF the stim-
ulants. Mike was more or less pat out
at the 'ssmallness Of the measure" and
after q few moments contided to
s.hizzoner'' chat ''bsgobs'' the brandy
was great appetiz .r, but it took
whisky to strengthen fellow, where"
upon Redpath, always equal to the oc-
casion, gave him 81 measure of each
Redpath, while not a poeJ himself, had
a fOndness for certain kinds of rhyme,
such as might he easily judged from
his life acts as appeals to the sympa-
thetic side Of nature. A fayorite Of his,
which he subsequently, published in bis
kedpath 8 Weekly some time after the
episodes iiers given, 1s quite worthy OF
more than passing notice. In August.
1882, a ylung Australian poet named
Kendall, died in Sydney. III, would no
doubt have made a great name had he
lived, as Can be judged from the poem
given beloW from his pen. Lt was CON
posed on the death OF his chiid and is a
poem exhibiting much deep and gen.
uine feeling.
REDPATH's FAyORlTE POEM.
Take this rose and very gently place 1t on the
tender deep
Moses, where our little darling Araluen lies
asleep;
Put the blossoms close to baby kneel with me,
We must M & leave the the bird we've buried-say good
bye TO her to-day!
In the shadow OF our trouble we must go to
other lands,
And the flowers we have fostered will be lett to
Other eyes will watch them growing, other feet
will softly tread
Where two hearts are nearly breaking, where SO
many tears are shed.
Bitter is the world we live i'll; life and love are
mixed with pain;
We will never see the dalsies--never water them
All, the saddest thought in leaving baby in this
bush alone
Is that we have not been able on her grave to
We have been TOO poor to do it: but, my darling,
God is in the gracious heavens and his sun and
rain are kind. -
They will dress the spot with beauty; they VIII
make the grasses grow;
Many winds viii lull our birdie; many songs
will come and go
Here the blue eyed spring will ilnger: here the
Shinior InOS4 will stay
Like friend by Araluen, when we two are far
away.
We viii never watch the blossom, never see 1t
Girl! whose hand at God high altar in the dear.
dead year [ pressed,
Lean your stricken head upon me, this is still
your lovers breast;
She who sleeps was first and sweetest, none we
have to take her place,
Elnpty is the little cradle; absent is the little
face.
Other children may be given. but this rose be-
But this garland of your girlhood, will be. dear
est Of them all.
None will ever, Araluen, nestle where you used
to be,
In my heart of hearts, you darling, when the
world WAS new to me.
We were young when you were with us, life and
love were happy things
To your father and your mother, ere the angels
gave you wings.
You that sit and SOB beside me-you upon whose
golden head
Many rains OF many sorrows have from day to
day been she'd
Who, because your love was noble, faced with
me the lot austere,
Ever pressing with it's hardships on the man OF
letters here,
Let me feel tnar you are near me; lay your hand
within mine own,
You are all have 10 live for, now that we are
Three there e0 were but one has vanished; sins OF
mine have made you weep;
But forgive your baby father, now that baby is
asleep:
with the flowers; =,
Other hands will come and tend them, other
friends in other hours.
The actions of any one man cannot
please everybody. and, worse than this.
many acts purely results of generous,
unselhsn desire TO do good are often go
mlsconstrued and twisted by carping
critics as to seem born OF a motive quite
the opposite. But Redpath never Ia
bored for the approval OF such as them;
he stored the harvest Of his good deeds
in that granary which vermin attack
not, nor DO thieves break through it
and steal in the heart Of the human
brotherhood. To those who knew bis
generous soul, his unselfish nature, bis
kind words and kinder deeds, there can
be naught save regret that greater
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