The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1894-09-12
A BIRTHDAY GIFT.

or 1t might not. III any one prefers Is
localize this story of true love at Liver
pool or Glasgow or any other British
city where Irish do live, he or she is
quite welcome to do so. am not going
to vulgarize q tender idyl by giving
with the fidelity of a county court sum-
mons the precise town, village or other
minute description of the scene where
the poetic events to be now told took
place.
Mat Casey lodgelwith Tim Brennan.
who occupied compile Of rooms in o
small house in court off passage in
AN alley which branched out of lane
i'm back street. Sure you re gintle-
man, for you're as good as the pig that
pays his rint, Tim used to say to him,
and Mat would reply, True for yez,
an it's meself that's proud to be that
same. And then, if either happened
to have a shilling about him, they
would go to the Cobwebs inn and
drink it. If in luck, they would per-
haps have a fight or two in the course
of the night II things were depressed
and people were low spiritedly peaceful,
they would in most cases have fight
between themselves and then fraternal-
ly pump OH each others heads or repair
their faces from the same stock of stick
ing plaster.
Mat was a travelling tinker, middle
aged, jovial, ugly fine drinker, a
good singer, and, as Tim said, "a dhivil
of poet. Tim was an odd job charac.
ter-an auction porter and a Speculation
in small lots. Mat was widower. Tim
had an extensive wife and scattered
family.
At the entrance to the court was O
sort of half shop, half shed. with a big
room behind and small one above,
where Widow Moloney lived and car
ried ON her business, which consisted il
the purchase and sale of anything from
an old bedstead to coyerless diction.
airy and from broken candlestick tC
an indistinct oil painting. Her husband
had been an attendant at sales and Q
broker in humble way
After the inquest ON him-now some
10 months ago-Mrs. Moloney continued
the concern. She found it unnecessary
to go to auctions, as Tim and Others
brought their purchases to her, and she
had tolerably ready means Of buying
and selling, not merely to add from heI
neighbors, but also, being we'll known,
among the inhabitants generally in q
small way.
She was about 40 and weighed Is
stone A big shawl was always crossed
over her opulent bosom and knotted be-
hind. She had bright eye, q ready
tongue. heavy fist and strong head.
Mat was deeply enamored of this
gentle lady. OF course Tim was in his
confidence, and many an untruthful
word in praise of Mat did he drop, as il
by accident, in her hearing, and many
an unveracious account of his broken
Indebtedness on her account did he sigh.
ingly narrate, with the addition Of his
own private opinion that Mat was dy-
ing or would kill himself for love Of
her. Tim was as loyal friend as So
Der though truthful knight of old.
Tim" said Mat on the eve of Wild
ow Moloney's birthday, 81 want yez to
give her this birthday card from me.
It's a great red heart. with a skewer
sticking in it, That riprisints NOME
the heart, I name. The skewer"--
''It's an arrow, AMat-that's what
they do belcalling it, Hne
well, Tim. an there's good Irish
sound about that same They can't do
without us anyway. you see."
''Sorra a bit, an you want me to be
afther giving her that?''
Eyes; I've improved it. I've made it
stiff with red lead an put in a few
dhrops, as If it was the blood Of me
heart that was flowing for her, an
she's so scornful Of me sufferings"
"It's illigant" said Tim, with great
admiration.
IAN see here, now. I've written
some varses to her to the tune Of
'O'Shaughnessy Hat. Bedad, an they
rowl as swately as jig an as delud-
herring as the crayther.
He sang them over in his rich voice
and delicious brogue, and Tim got ex-
cited and promised his most devoted
aid Then they went to the Cobwebs
ana III que course were Flol6utly 6l6ct-
ed. had a tussle with some strangers
about something Of which they had no
particular notion or recollection, lost
each other and finally got home some.
how, though separately.
Next morning they arose with un-
cloudod and unaching brows, and Tim
started on his mission. Mat waited at
the Cobwebs for his return.
Tim sat down on a Geld doorstep and
reflected M
Take her a dhirty, painted, twopenny
piece of paper with a red lead heart ON
It'll Bedad an begorra an won'ti I'll
do better than that, or my names not
Tim Brennan. Mats decent bhoy an
o dhivil Of poet, but widdies is prac.
teal. 1t taxes the likes of me to under
stand the likes Of them.
Within 10 minutes after this soliloquy
he was seated in Mrs. Moloney's dis
ordered and uilventilated room.
"There it is, Mrs Moloney, dear, an
it must 60 to the heart of yez to rade
the hidden M aning," said he as he
I