San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1891-04-17
THE MAN FROM TIPPERARY.

He Successfully Refutes the SLAM
der That Ireland is a Sad Place.
New York Mail and Express.
A little gray Irishman. who had
been fifty years under the "Gridiroh, "
said dogmatically that Ireland was a
sad place now, and that all the sports
and pastimes of the old days were
snuffed out. Then q big, strapping,
red-hsired fellow from Tipperary-'a
roaring Tip from Neenah, :" as the old
song goes-took HIM up.
Its little yer afther knowing, old
man." he said. "Sure, it's only two
weeks ago L came over, and many the
day of fine sport 1 had in the dear old
counthry. BY that same token, whin
New Tipperary was built, an there
was cheering as you never saw for
Willie O'Brien, an every one groan-
ing like twinty funerals for smith,
Barry-the curse of Cromwell on him
for q bliggard There was mesilf
and Black Murty Carney and Phad-
rick Sullivan KEN up from Neenah to
see the plisure.
"Faix, there in the market-place
was the polls all drawn up wild their
clubs an rifles an bagonets. An
Mickey Ryan, sv the Two Roads-a
foine man he was, barrin' he was
thraitor-had the natest little Joke
by all the books that liver were open
or shut I'm laughin' this minute. 1t
was an old porther bottle filled wild
powther an bits av broken nails an
wild fuse astickin' out av the top,
like q pretty gurl's head out av q
chimley.
"Oh, by the piper, when he trewn
it, if We had sane the polls dancin an
swearin' an clubbin', wild the blud
arunnin down their boots an the
nails astickin' in their legs, you'd
have laughed as though all belongin'
to ye was on the table,"
''That's a fine story"
sit is that" said the Tip; "but, by
the piper! it was more fun we had
the night. For goin' home Black
Murty says to me that it was asy to
make them things, an Il hasSSrfok Sui
'iivaf; hayin,, ths drink in him says,
Thin tie divil fly away wild We, Muir
ty Carney, for it's big ye talk an it's
nothin We do at all, at all!'
"Well, thin, afther the fight 1 tux
'em apart an we had drink nice an
comfortable an went home. On the
very next day bein' Friday, Murty an
mesilf makes wan av thin bottles an
says Murty, 'Swate, bad luck to that
bliggard Phadrick Sullivan, We'll
prove to him what he can don So
whin it was dark we stales up to his
cabin an he aslape an the moon
shinin' that beautiful you'd think 1t
it was the CURL you love smilin' on We.
Sure, thin, there was flock of geese
lynn snuggled up together In the
field. Black Murty lit the fuse and
trewn the bottle. Thin we whit
away, an the mkt mornin' Phadrick
Sullivan comes to US an says, BY
thepowers av Moll Kelly, boys, it's
bad luck's come upon men
CAN what's that?' said Black
Murty.
"'Sure,' says Phadrick, half wap-
ing, all me geese were shtruck by
lightnin' last night
aye" said the man from Tipperary,
"but you should have sane us that
night. For afther LAYING the geese
we were going home, quiet an peace
able, an who do we meet but Mickey
a thraltor. It's gem of a boy, is
Mickey Ryan, an wan to help lame
dog over q stile. An there's never q
cork in the bottle whin friend calls
on him. So he comes on, swingin' q
blackthorn stick, as big as the leg av
a policeman.
"'Good evening, Mickey Ryan
says /, AM that's a fine stick you
have, anyway
"It is that same, says Mickey,
pleased like.
"'Let me see 1t close, Mickey, dar-
lint says I. Then he gives it to me,
and wild that Black Murty throws
him down and bates him for thrai.
tor. Fax, then you's laugh as If the
ocean was all whisky and the is.
lands all bread"
EASY, ye black thraitor,' says
an don't be tryin' to lave yer des
erts.
"'It's no thraitor I am says Mic.
key Ryan, thremblin' like dog ian,
wet sack.
"'Kape quiet, ye thraitor' say
Murty.
"Then whin we had done batin
him we TUX all his clothes off and
mis- boots off an told him to clint
over the hedge an run home through
the fields, fur we didn't think il
dacent he shud walk in the road an
him with no clothes"
That was very fine story, but thu
gray little Irisman, who had not beer
in Ireland for fifty years, did no
seem to think much of 1t.
"What became Of Black Murty Car
ney?" he asked.
1.-THE polls gave him six months,
the man from Tipperary replies
solemnly, but with twinkle In hi
shrewd eye, "and by that same tokei
think there must have been traito