News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1902-10-15
| I

Johnnie Gavigan was of course one
of the foolish Irish.
| II.
"a glorious day, this, for the parade,
| sir" Myles Mcguire was standing on
the rear platform of a Broadway car
| and by way of reply to the remark
| scOwled severely at the conductor who
| made it and scowled at the bunch Of
shamrocks he sported in his cap. The
conductor, not the least disconnected,
| whistled God Save Ireland!' and re-
| peated the remark to the next man
who boarded. A poor workingman,
| with his little lunch in his hand, COM
| Ing on the car, here raised his hat to
| the shamrock, whereat Mr.. Mcguire
| muttered something impolite and
| fumed inwardly as if a personal in
| suit had been flung in his face. and
| maybe" he added to himself, that
| poor fool hasn't the second quarter to
| rub against the first" A few blocks
| farther an old woman, who had been
| helped on by policeman, fixing her
prayer in Gaelic. The conductor pluck
ed from his hat a sprig of the sham
rock, though it cost him a pang, and
presented it to the old woman, who
kissed it passiOnately. Mr.. Mcguire,
disdaining even to convey an order to
the conductor, himself pulled the cord
and bounced from the car at the next
corner. Hang you all"' he said. 'Tll
walk it." He did walk it, but the rev.
erence of that poor workingman and
the passionate love of that old woman
for bit of green weed preyed upon
his mind-preyed upon it.
Here am l, Myles Mcguire, con-
thractor and builder and rich man,
without either time or inclination for
his-this-nOnsense, and there's peo-
pie as poor as God made them, and
the wurP against them, and they--they
oh, curse it allv'
Flung out from the windows were
green flags, to which the burly drivers
of two wagons raised their hats as
they passed, their eyes dancing with
some gleeful remembrance. Most of
the wagoners had stuck upon their
horses harness little green flags, each
of which represented two Schooners of
lager beer foregone. Hotel walters
motormen, hundreds of hurrying foot
passengers, sported some piece of
green. A very few, with pardonable
pride, displayed the shamrock.
Mr.. Myles Mcguire, contractor and
builder and rich man, could not help
seeing this, though he would like to
have shut his eyes and his heart to it
ALL Myles remembered how a poor
devil with whom he worked ages ago
used to excite his sarcastic laugLsar
by declaring that half an ounce of
happiness was worth a wagon load Of
gold. Now here We're many poor devils
with naught but their bare hands be-
tween them and starvation, and the
sun was on their faces and in their
hearts, and here was he with his
money bags, and for twenty-five years
he had not known how to smile. EVi-
IDENTIFY these people were laboring I'M
der the delusion that money did not
mean everything and was not the aim
and end of existence. Somewhere
there was something radically wrong,
Myles Mcguire confessed to himself.
At the Victor building, on Twenty
third street and Fourth avenue, which
sported the sign "Myles Mcguire, Con-
tractor and Builder" the men had mo-
mentarily stopped work to shy cents
and nickels and a couple of dimes at
a dirty Italian who had been grinding
a travesty on "Patrick's Day" out of
his hand organ and who then, by way
of thanks, gave them a representation
of wretch dying by slow torture,
from which, by desperate stretch of
Imagination, they were supposed to
fancy "The Wearing of the Green"
and went on. Myles had remained
half a block away till the agony was
ended, and when he came up he found
that a hunchbacked old fellow who
was at work by the side path had
stuck up a little ten cent Irish flag on
barrel by his side. Myles stood look
ing from the man to the flag and from
the flag back to the man.
THAT'S a gay mOrnin', misther," the
old fellow said, going on with his work
After a little Myles Mcguire asked
"How long are you from lrelan',
frendY'
"Ah, troth, too long-nineteen years
come May"
"And, tell me, do you ever think OF
Irelan' now"
The old fellow looked up at him side
ways for a moment. isn't it early in
the mornin' yere beginnin' yer lark.
IMP he said then.
"Do you ever expect to go back tc
Irelan'?"
with Gods help, with Gods help!"
The old fellow sighed as he said it. 81
name to die in Irelan' | was back
there seven years ago this summer. II
money was plentier, it's few summers
would miss me that I wouldn't be
back. have me wife an childer
there, that I've got to save for"
81 suppose you sind them money ev
cry year?"
Every year. l struggle to sind
them, with Gods help, a thrifle OF
money every month. When I'm in con