Connecticut western news., 1896-03-19

And he never did, but one day, long after, he heard another man sing it, and the sound of it was very good.
 The writing of many letters is not habit that peasants ale much given to, but snce a month or so after Patsey went away young Larry Rooney, the old postmaster's son, in the little Irish viii lage, used to grit his teeth and go out by himself somewhere, so that be could be alone, and curse bitterly for awhile. For about so often Kathleen used to send letter to Patsey Cassidy or else get one from him. And her frank hap piness was gall and wormw wood to Larry, wbo wanted her himself. but who could never have won her love in any case, for, although his father was we'll to do and Larry was his heir, Ee was ne'er do well, and Kathleen knew it.
 It was not so much that Larry stole a letter or two now and again and tore them up and danced on them in impo- tent rage. Treachery and d sappointed love have made many scoundrel do that before and will again. as long as letters are sent by mail But he did a meaner thing by far.
 It was something he could not hare done if he had not found another man as black of heart as he, and willing to sell himself to almost anything for mon- ey. Michael Dennis, he was, young man from the same village, who had shipped as a stoker on some tramp steamer. Larry met him one night in Dublin, and this was the pretty plot they matched up together over bottle of whisky. M chael was to do the work, and Larry was to pay.
 "The ship'll be in New York this summer, said Nike, Ian I'll hunt up Patsey an tell him danced at your we'd ding. All you have to do is to shtop th' lettbers.
 Patsey had been in the new country-- year. It was not very easy rt<asr. He did not pick up money in the streets, nor did he even get steady work from the very beginning. But his bright, hap py nature and quick wit made him friends, and it was not very many weeks before he got job with a building con- tractor and being clever carpenter was soon earning good wages.
 Then came the modest deposit in the savings bank and the weekly additions to it, and presently snug balance that made the home for two seem near at hand. And Patsey was steady and in- dustrious and hopeful and happy.
 They never knew whose fault it was that the scaffolding gave way, and Pat sey was not one to sue his boss for dam ages, especially when the boss seemed sorry and helped him some with his ex- penses. So, after two months in the hospital, he found himself cured indeed, but still weak. and the little hoard in the bank dwindled down to almost noth- ing.
 That was hard enough, but he could have borne it bravely if Kathleen's let ters had not stopped. No answers came to any of his, and even letter he wrote to Miles and another to Larry, his old playmate and companion, remained un- answered.. Never for a moment doubt ing his sweetheart's good faith nor sus- pecting treachery, he was sorely puzzled and anxious.
 The good natured clerk in the big postoffice had just told him for the twen- tieth time at least that there positively were no letters for him, and Patsey was walking away heartsick and almcst de- spondent for the first time in his life, when somebody clapped him on the shoulder, exclaiming, Cassidy, me boy, how are you?"
 It was Dennis, and though Patsey had no love for him the sight of his face was like vision from heaven. Grasp