The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1894-05-13

view OF the QFeamtul lakes. IL passes
over escarpments hewn from the rocky
mountain sides, upon Causeways under
heath which thunder mountain cascades,
or glldes through tiny wales OF successive
lower levels, and, finally sweeping over a
short reach of verdure-cOvered cham
payne land, winds beneath aged yews and
sycamores into the curious, low-lying
Killarney hamlet OF villas and huts.
II was down this magnificent roadway
that the benign and venerable O'DonOg-
hue passed with buoyant tread, the morn
ing breeze playfully ripping his silvery
hair about his neck and head, his eyes
klnd!lng with jOyousness as they rested
upon countless well remembered scenes
and with an almost ecstatic, home-com-
ing face.
Every one of the lowly he met upon the
highway, or who peered at him from
cabin window near or far, seemed pos
sessed of instant determination to be-
take themselves to flight, or of as sudden
desire to do him extraordinary and even
outlandish reverence.
Latfy Duff. the village shaughran,
basking in the early sunlight on a cause
way coping, caught but one glance of the
comely old man when, al the risk of his
life, he incontinently slid into the tum-
bling stream below
! Nelly DoOly, bringing fresh rolls of but
ter from the Mangerton mountain diaries
and overtaking the O'DOnOghue upon the
! highways, dropped he dew-wet creel in
the road, fell upon her knees in an attitude
| OF alteration, and, as the smiling pilgrim
tossed some coin into her basket, fed
| with hysterical thanks and blessings,
| screeching the news into the hamlet
below.
the aged stone breaker stopped his
pecking in the ''stone-poCket' of the road
| way wall, and with tears of delight
| streaming down hic old fQpa nm.
gled pitifully through hIs'head duckings
| and salutatiOns: Faith, I'd break stone
hard as the divils forehead T. me dying
| day, fur tn great grab (fortune) av an
hour like this!" whereupon coin iingled
among the rock chips at his side, and the
kind old pilgrim passed smilingly on.
| Whether from the frequency of these
demonstrations, or because of some unac-
countable vagarous mood, for none would
| be bold enough to measure the fairy MIND
the O'Donoghue soon turned from the
main highway into hedge bordered lane
which led to the shores of the upper Kill
larney lake. Far below him stood a lonely
hut He gazed at It long and earnestly,
| and with holdings of his head and with
signing EXPLANATIONS of The same, the
same ~ moved forward toward it with
quickened pace.
He suddenly stopped and looked down
| beside him, for warm little hand had
stolen into one of his own.
A young girls face was upturned as he
looked. Dimples and freckles were upon
it, but it was round and rosy and red
| The bluest blue eyes that ever were seen
| looked out from it, and tight, black little
Corkscrew curls bObbed and tiuttered
from her trOtting to keep pace with the
! O'DOnoghue, about her tiny ears md
head, from which an old black braideen
had fallen upon as round and pretty
shoulders as ever tantalized the heart of
brave Kerry lad. A little blue bodice
imprisoned a plump little form and ample
shOrt-skirts of rough wooden stuff, dyed
a dingy madden, falling just below her
knees, disclosed TO her venerable COM
pani0n pair of dainty bare feet which
whipping through the grass and morning
dew had been turned from white to rosy
pink.
II knew the dear O'Donoghue would
come, " murmured the mite of a maiden in
a voice even more melodious than the
whipping brook beside the hedge. The
| old granny promised it afOre she died
heaven send her peace,"
BLESS metz said the O'Donoghue, with
a kindly, wondering smile, as the little
warm hand crept around his big, fat
| thumb with firm, proprietary grasp.
''lndade did |, thousand times thin
and now"
Her eyes which showed signsa of bitter
weeping were radiant with trust and hap
piness.
'''Ah, Maureen Donohoe, were the last
words old granny spoke, 'kape a stout
heart in your little body thin, for tn
| O'Douoghue II surely come; and whin he
rises from tn lake on his milk-white
steed, or whin he slathers down the
boreen, grand an smilin' like fine auld
prayst, spake up thin brave and fair an
We IL have no need av peddlin' tn crosses
more! Sure yer tn last o. tn great race
| He'll know We, cushla darlint, dear! An
yer faireerIgrah (sorrowful misfortune)
| will be surely Ger 1him's the words,
sir, the last ones, afore the dear old lips
were still! -
And you are little Naureen Donohue-
the last of the Killarney O'Donoghue
race"
I'm that same, sir. Sure now, your
honor knew it thin, for a thousand years
afore!n
She said it so archly, so accusatively. as
If for this trlfing wasting of words, and
above all so sweetly and trustfully, as
though her own had but come to her with
| full recognition and possession, that the
old man slipped her little hand from his
thumb into his palm again and held it
there, firm and fast and sure.
Sure twas no great thing for Widow
Neny to know you at once, then" she
ness into the old mans smiling face
Though its more than a hundred years
since last you came to Killarney, every
one knows you as well as if it was but
yesterday that you rode the lake on the
fine white horse"
A strange light of intelligence seemed
creeping into the O'Donoghue's face as he
! repeated: The great white horse, Mau-
reeu?"
The same. It's the great white horse
all fairies ride"
And then, Maureen,' he returned,
with difficulty REFRESHING his merriment.
1t is | who am the O'Donoghue that re
visits the people now and then to work
for them wonders and charmsE'
80, sure, the same! Didn't you leave
the fairy gold and silver on the Widow
/ Neny's table, the morn2 Didn't | bide in
the hedge till they all ran after the
money, and then scamper to the lane here
so you'd find me aisy, on your way after
me to the cabin And don't every soul o.
the Killarney folk know you're back
again, and old granny's word come true}
Och, now that you're here, don't mind
thin shamers at all!''
She waved her hand contemptuously at
the occupants of a long car which dashed
by them through the lane. Strapped upon
the vehicle were the poles for crane,
and long, heavy timber, ready rugged
for rude battering-ram.