The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1897-02-26
the time designated by the will ha

| the time designated by the Will mas
expired, ha! ha! hal" and an
emphatic thump with his constantly
gesticuiating hand, on a neighboring
bench, with a loud laugh in order
to enphonize the matter, wound up
the plausible story.
The two worthless took leave
hastily, after things had been thus
fairly understood by the parties,
leaving Mrs. Greenberry in par
oXysm of grief, and her spouse in a
fit of excitement and chagrin.
Mel and his official friend had
made their exit but a short time ere
Pat McCleary, son of green Erin,
appeared in the avenue leading to
the mansion, with back load OF
wood cutters tools, and holding a
conversation to himself, something
like the following =
"Och! sorrow be to the day that
iver Pat McCleary put brogue on
the shores of Ameriky. The divils
But what could a man do agin such
a houst of nagers. st. Patherick
if I'd had good shillelah, how I'd
made the woolly crathers scratch
Och! but I'd give a pase of me
lifetime for few of the lads that |
used to lade out to the gineral bat
ties at the Glin fares! TrOth but
its low days with Pat McCleary,
that used to be counted bully of the
Glins, when he's compelled to bate
a retreat from gang of nagers
Sorrow be to the day! if it iver
reaches ould Ireland, that Pat
McCleary turned his back on an
inemy!"
"What's the matter, Pat?" Mr..
Greenberry asked, as the Irishman
appeared near enough for his
strange soliloquy to be heard. But
Pat, absorbed with his own emo
tions, paid no regard to, or perhaps
did not hear the Interrogation of
his employer.
"But what single man could stand
before sich dhrove of woolly apes
and without sufficient shillelah-
and lid on by that she divil in pet
ticoat-Uhat you call her? Helen
Darlin. Och! jabers, but she's a
broth of a darlin' !"
"Why, what in the world do you
mean, McCleary 2" Mr.. Green
berry, approaching the inturiated
Pat, asked with surprise.
"Mane!" said the wrothy son of
Erin, throwing down his cutting
tools. "Is it yer honor asks? Sor-
row be to the day that Pat McCleary
should name any thing but the
truth"
"Well, what has harpened?"
"Troth! am isn't there enough
happened, when Pat McCleary's
compelled to retreat before an
inemy 2"
"Who did you run from 2" pur
sued the confounded Greenberry.
erin! did yer honor says" ejac-
ulated Pat, with the most sovereign
contempt for the word. "Divil a
step did Pat iver rim from a human
crather! "
"Well, how then?'
"How thin why, don't yer
honor understand, that ould limb
at the bridge, with her nagers-
whot dye call her?"
"Helen Darby" replied Mr..
Greenberry.
"Hel-I, faith, she's well named ;
but divil the darlin's about her.
Well, yer hOnor's to understand,
this angel, with her black marina
dons, came swarmin' on me as thick
as Pharaph's locusts, with sticks
and stones and guns, too, for inay
thing | know, and the divil knows
what other murtherin' wagons; and,
does yer honor see, Pat was com
piled to bate ratrate from the
place he was cutting wood by yer
honor'S orders, and had no shil-
lelah prepared"
"Oh well, never mind !" Mr..
Greenberry said, having got the
Irishman's story at length.
"NiUer mind! does yer honor say?
If the news iver gets to Ould Ire
land, Saint Patherick! Pat Nc
Cleary'll niver recover from the dis,
grace his ould cronies, the boys of
the Glins, III hape upon his name
and fame!"
"Well, well, there's an injunction
laid on the land, and we're not
allowed TO cut any more" Mr..
Greenberry replied.
"Oh! divil take the law by
my sOwl, I'll have revinge for this
insult out o. that ould hiffer and
her black apes, or my name isn't
Pat McCleary !"-and the Irish
man, shouldering his tools again,
strobe doggedly away, to chew alone
the cud of bitter reflection.