The age-herald., 1898-11-24
OLD MAHONY'S
 s>TURKEYS
BY LUcIEN JULIEN.

''If you please. sir, here's a parcel for you-come through parcels post this morn- ing. Happy Thanksgiving to you, sir, and many of them!'
 Thank you for your good wishes, George; but why should you trouble me with parcels on this morning of all blessed mornings?"
 ''Thought you ought to see it, sir Seems a bit queer" ee- =.
 'very well. Open the window blinds and then open the parcel"
 I turned over for another little sleep, all though the hour was well towards noon
 Blessed Motherl it's turkey. sir!' my office boy exclaimed, much to my astonish- ment.
 I got up and went to the window, and saw that the parcel undoubtedly did con- tain dressed turkey-the biggest and fattest had seen outside of the. United States. The card of address bore no sign as to who was the sender. It was merely postmarked 'Cork-King street. and the handwriting on the address card was clearly that of a woman The boy was dis missed with a little Thanksgiving for him. self, and I pondered long over that big
 
 the hotel. Outside within a stone's throw throbbed the sea, molten silver in the soft sunshine of South Ireland. It was divine day, that Thanksgiving day on the ould sod Boats sped up and down the restless waters, children were shouting in the play ground hard by and rompng around one of the cannon that ''volleyed and thundered" as the Six Hundred rode to death and fame at Balaclava. But apart from the day, the boats, the children and the old cannon that formed part of the mouth of hell'' forty years before, was that tur- key that had come to me through the par cels post With the handwriting of every woman who wrote to me socially, I was familiar. There was large frame on the wall filled with invitations and notes of all sorts. l scanned these closely. None at all resembled the writing that bore me my Thanksgiving turkey.
 The turkey was sent to the club, whither I followed it. I held a joint conference with the club steward and his chef and tried to convey to their minds just how I desired the fowl cooked for my dinner at night. It was to be cooked in the Ameri- can manner. It never was cooked, by the way; but it was cooked. Other good dishes were ordered to be served and the wines were carefully and cautiously selected. Then I sought some close personal friends, all jolly good fellows and bade them to my little feast on the old familiar mahog- any table in the cosy old corner of the clubs ''coffee-room'-othe dining hall. There was another I bade there, too-ths sunniest-faced, brighest-eyed, bravest- hearted American lad who ever dwelt under the friendly folds of a foreign flag. He was my secretary and bore a name hon. ored all over the republic. He was an ex- pert yachtsman and swimmer, and had re- .peatedly risked his own life to save the lives of individuals impossible to be so worthy.
 Tell you a little story about my secretary how his bravery put my heart in my throat and dimmed my eyes as they are not wont to be dimmed. There was a yacht race on in the incomparatively beautiful old Cove of Cork There was accident a squall caused the boom of the "Sylva" to knock it's hired man" overheard. h. sstantly he, whom we shall call Cecil, that being really his first name, leaped into the turbulent sea and struck out for the drown- ing man. All the yachts put about and all possible assistance was attempted, but the yachts had on tremendous way under the stiff wind, and before one could speak five words the two in the water were hundred yards from help.
 On the balcony of the club two miles up- shore we saw through our glasses that something had happened; but we were too far away to render aid, and turned into the smoking room to look at the papers. Bly, and-by member rushed in and exclaimed excitedly:
 Consul, something has happened to Cecil" 5sa
 Hurrying to the consulate nearby where there was a more powerful glass. I dis covered the flag of the consulate at half mast. My heart failed me. said nothing Nobody spoke to me. The moment was not one for words. Those who were there stood respectfully aside each grief-striclen on his account or mine, or both. The big glass