Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1901-01-12

thinkin' Take that salt i'm comm
back from Ameriky." Micky said From
Ameriky! Indeed, an we're welcome then.
ceud failte." and he took Mckys hand and
shook it heartily ''Sit down, man. Any
wan from Ameriky is welcome here. for
/ have in that country boy / me own-a
boy whose like ye wouldn't meet an
thravel from here to there an back again;
a fine boy he Is entirely. an the best-be-
haved In Ameriky: an it's me is the proud
ia ther for him. Maybe you come across
him in yer thravels. He's Micky-Micky
BIogan; he's fair haired like yerself, but
dali stouter an harder, an he carries
himself like kings son. Would ye have
met him at all In yer thravels?'
Micky had had to lean his shoulder
against the brace. and had let his head
drop. He said NO. no.
"Ah, pity ye didn't meet with poor Micky.
Gods blissin' be about him; But sit. man,
sit. Ye're far from strong lookin'. Ameri-
ky didn't agree with ye. poor fella. or we
overwrought yerself. You're not from this
neighborhood?"
the lower en- iv killaghtee. I'll not sit. 1
thank you for ye civility 1 just stepped In
for dhrink. for l was feelin, ;. dhrouthy."
hanea h fsa s grea be~ s hs fa Y
not move till ye ait, too he said.
II couldn't ait If we paid me for it. I TUX
hearty male at Donegal. An the
down the bowl Of milk when he had put it
to his lips.
Its sorry I am that ye didn't meet our
Mcky. In throht an It's him IS ever glad
to see anywan ever left the baronry. An
It's him makes much Nv them. Ye would
"a been proud Nv Micky II ye had seen him.
Them that comes home, that has seen
Micky, they'd niver tire talkin w him, the
grand fella entirely. an credit to his father
that he IS. An he'd "a been sending such
heartsome messages to me with ye Och,
God bliss Mickyi" The Yankee was NOV
70 her
but COnnal stood between him and the door.
Poor Micky's dom better than ever
| boy whit out ~ the parish afore since
every man comes home tells me that. But
he couldn't otherwise nor well, for he was
the fond son " his father. Micky, goin away.
saved he'd niver forget me. an he niver
wantin' to see Micky. jintleman from the
| crown " his head to the sole iv his foot,
come sthridin' In " that doore with his
two hands out to the father he niver for.
got. An afther that. any time God chooses
to call Connal Brogan he'll die happy
man God Almighty bliss poor Micky!'
In thick voice and tremulous. Micky
Brogan said, Good night! Thanky," and
| went hurriedly out into the darkness.
j"
One night, some years after. handsome
fellow. elegantly dressed sat him down
beneath the Lazy Bush at the Poolby Cross.
and was lost In thought for some time. He
drew out little bag, which opened on q
| running string, and looked at the little
| treasure or gold pieces that 1t held-and
| smiled. He put the bag into his pocket
| again. and. getting to his feet, pushed for
| ward. He lifted the latch on Connal Bro
| gan's door and strobe in. There was a
man dreaming by the fireside The stran-
ger said thickly. Father" and the old
man bounded to his feet with cry that
almost seemed one of pain. The stranger
| had his arms extended. Father he said
| Father! Micky has come home to your
And when his fathers gray head lay ON
his shoulder he said: Father, I saved I
wouldn't forget" Gods grace be on We.
Micky mo paisdin! Sure. for wan short
| minute In all these twelve long years I
| niver doubted ye-I niyer doubted YEP