Morning journal and courier., 1894-03-17

Corrib, was crossed, and the vehicle wound carefully along unfrequented streets, ct last halting beside the ghosfly outlines of . little parish church.
 Then Dan Aadigan whispered solemnly to those beneath the blankets:
 "Whist, now, fur yer lives, an mind | what I'm t say. Its aisy said, Misthress Dreen. Tn worst Is forninst us, yitl How can any honest lad, like meself, hide away four women-an' three O thim murdherersi -widout layst wan's his lawful wifel It can't be done! Thin whati Yer beyant tn age O marrytn', yerself, Misthress Dreen. Naythsr Nora nor Maureen I'll tellin' her while crassin' tn bridge, that can save 70 nowl What dye say t that, now, fair and square, Aisthress Drssni'
 "What do I sayp' groaned the poor wo- man from under the blankets. "What do saya Why, Ellie, ,syick, marryin's bstther nor hangin', any day. If there's proper prsyst handy, take Dan quick, Ellie, take finn quick; fur, och. murtherl I'll soon be smotherin' entirely"
 An, but there WAS . "proper, prayst handy" when Dan and Ellie . moment lat CT stole up to the altar of the dim old church; proper priest enough for we'd ding together two simple Irish lives; but ono that, a he hastily read the responses, said the prayer, gave the blessing and the holy water, seemed strangely convuleed with mirtn; though aside fiom his white robe he looked every inch Q man who had 1 been dragged at the wake of Q Clsddsh l boat, from Arran Isle to Galway quay; while the lone and sleepily bewildsred altar 1 boy looked the picture of mute despair, as
 his wondering eyes wandered from priest to pair, until he nearly dropped the sacred
 vessel from his trembling hands. | D,-k what marvel is that which transformed the
 silent Nadigan Inn to . boisterous realm of icy, when Dan, his bride. and the Dreens were safely sheltered there2 When the wild
 welcome they all first got was from none
 other than the roaring ghosts of two of
 those spalpeen gaugers, Dennis Murphy
 and Larry O'Brien (the other at that very
 moment, in the priests house neal, shaking
 his sides with laughter while getting in-
 side of dry olothingD that had been tossed from the cliff into lonely Lough Alligana beautifully framed and written out in his l own ftne hand, as e tender wedding gift, the "aisy- flowing" lines, which hang in l the inns best room to this dayi- What Is that sweet artihceri- That even in old Ireland's savage West Builds into rugged walls such tender That clothes cen winters trees with l fancy leaves;
 That That brings the throb of summer to An, it is Love. but Lovel
 What is that subtle aichemist That in the humblsst or most savage Brings but munifcence of joy and resi- That deftly changes all alloy to gold, AoS ofa;M gives immortal youth to young or An, it is Love. but Love!
 What is that living miracle
 That wrests a thrilling joy from every That builds from dlrest loss supremest
 That s.,l lifts triumphant over har. and To hsssthly eaven, and Heavens shin An, it Is Love, but Love-
 When, as the day advanced, Dan and Ellie
 wondered ceaselessly from room to room
 in silent, rapturous joy; and, "th' byes'
 came in, and the girls came also, and old
 Molly Noon came with the fshwives wild
 and shrlll, and hosts of others came, grin
 hing, giggling, congratulating, shouting
 their hearts pulse of good will the whole
 day long, and away into night;-when
 there was gosthering great; and slswsther-
 ing ely; and Fiddler Mike and music high;
 and beating hearts and slathering hsele;
 till the rafters rang with the jlgs and
 reels, and mother Dreen at the end, hilari-
 ously taxed for a dance. "stepped out''
 with Dan Madigan himself, danced the
 brave lad down, and, quietly resuming her
 seat and her pipe between the ''dear ould
 sthills," kindly hands had set in the little
 kitchen there, gave solemn oath in the pip.
 ing Connamara key:
 "Och, murther, ye spalpeens slll-'Twua
 tn greatest Saint Phadric's day that iver
 wor born t seel"