The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1901-02-16

THE FAIRY BOY.
BY o. P
ILLINEY HILL Is eight miles
from Dublin. On its summit
is q conspicuous obelisk,

= , ILLINEY HILL is eight miles
TX from Dublin. On its summit
is conspicuous 0belisk,
whence the traveller may en-
Joy q rich reward for his toll in as
cending the mountain in the DIVERSE
fed prospects of sea and land which
this situation commands. Hence may
be seen the bays of Dublin and KILL
ney, the Islands of Oakley, Ireland's
Eye, Lambay and the Peninsula of
Howth. Near the base of the hill, to
the right, is Mount Druid, mansion.
so named from q much-admired an
tiquity called the Druids' Temple.
But l do not intend to give q his
tory of kidney, nor even descrip-
ton of 1t or its neighborhood. My sole
business at present Is with certain
Widow O'Reagan and her only off
spring, Dermot, who formerly took up
their abode in a neat matched cabin,
near the foot of the hill in question.
Dernot was q pale, delicate, yellow
haired boy, with crooked back. He
was nicknamed the "Changeling'' by
some Of the peasantry. Others would
call him the "Fairy Boy" in conse-
Quence of the reports which had been
circulated far and near that once, In
the dead of night, when the Widow
O'Reagan had gone into the garden to
draw pitcher of water from the well
the cradle in which her child lay sleep
ing had been robbed by some thieving
sprite of the mountain, and the mortal
babe witched away In exchange for
the disproportioned Dermot.
The poor youths lot was indeed a
hard one. He was Stunned by young
and old. His mother, whom he loved
better than his own life, was the only
friend he had In the world. She, in
turn, priced him as her souls jewel,
for her lone boys loneliness made him
more dear to her than the apple Of her
eye. Often would she press her lips to
his pale forehead with the warm glow
of love which none but a mother can
ever know.
Some sixteen summers had passed
over. yet the fragile boy would never
present himself at the wake, the fair
or the bridal, for he dreaded the
thoughtless ones who delighted to jeer
and make sport Of his shapeless back.
His chief source of amusement was
his loved harp for Dermot was q min
strei, and often sought the seclusion of
the dingle and governed dell, hoping
to commune with the viewless inhabit.
ants Of the fairy mounds and haunted
raths. Nor was he always alone in his
sequestered retreat, for Una Mcbride,
the fairest OF Wicklow's daughters,
night by night had heard his exquisite
strains with that pure delight which
that tuneful melody sometimes awakes
In the souls Of the young, but Dermot
as yet had never seen the angel face
of his fair admirer. One calm autumn
evening Una, who had become pretty
familiar with the bard's favorite
haunts, set out as usual, and with
noiseless step succeeded in reaching
the shade of the spreading boughs Of
an old oak tree, where he was engaged
in playing one of Carolan's famous old
airs. She could not resist the min
strels power, and so she continued to
listen and love, and might have died
ere her love was known but for
strange accident. The harper had
barely concluded the enchanting mel
cdy. when with death-like face and
flashing eyes, Una Mcbride sprang
wildly from her place of conceaiment
and fell like a corpse by the side of
young Dermot.
A famished wolf in his nightly
prowl had followed her. but before he
reached his intended prey young Der
mot's arm was dyed in the monsters
blood, for his harp was cast aside and
his hunting-knife buried deep in the
fierce brute's heart Again and again
the keen-edged blade was stoutly piled
at its deadly work, till at last the saw.
age wolf lay PROSTATE on the blood
empurpled heath.
Dermot's next task was to offer what
hiu NC SOuiu " tiic thIiSuleu luhlutL.
but rs he approached the fainting
form and gazed upon the peerless face
OF the beauteous Una an agonizing
pang of whitening dread chilled him to
the heart, and, with streaming eye. he
exclaimed: "Why should an object of
Contempt. such as l am, disturb the
angel. She'll awake too soon-too soon
to loathe and scorn me-" There is an
anguish which no words can utter. 1t
must be felt when the solemn knell of
hope rings sadly out, leaving its victim
worse than deatb-despair! Such grief
was Dermot's. Hope died within him
and he was desolate. Tears. burning
tears, the first his manhood ever shed.
rolled down his pale cheeks. Present
IL, however. magical change came
over him, for Una having regained her
consciousness voice fell upon his ear
CD sweetly clear as the enhancing
strains of his own harp. Again the
rose-lkc blush mantled her cheek,
while in her eyes of blue sparkled COM
bined love, gratitude and Joy.
From that hour Dermot was an al
tered man. His mind was ever
haunted By Ills own graceless form.
Morning, noon and night he sought the
shade of the woodland dells and
glades, where legends bad told him the