The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1904-11-19
"Chicago! Chicago!"

Hitu us the traln from tne Northwest
pulled into the union depot in Chicago
on rainy morning in September. But
to Jet Carolan, gazing listlessly out of
the car window, her thoughts revert
ing to the friends from whom she had
parted to come to the Western metro
polls in expectation of lettering her
condition in life, the words of the
tainman We're of mighty import; they
recalled her to the present and to Il
realization of the fact that she was
alone in strange city, without
friends and with very little money.
She had heard much of Chicago and it's
wickedness. Yet she was not afraid
Over and over the grand old lines re-
peated themselves in her mind:
81 know not where His islands lift
Their fronded palms in air.
l only know cannot drift
Beyond His love and care"
Stepping into Canal street she ques-
toned Il cab man as to how much he
would charge to take her to a number
in Dearborn avenue. With the cum
ming of his trade the "cabby" was not
slow in discerning that the girl was
Il stranger in the city and in loud
voice he called out his price
"A dollar fifty
After trying in vain to make bet
ter bargain with others in the line, she
finally came upon an isolated cab, the
driver of which offered his services
for one dollar. Jet demurred at the
price. but finally decided that paying
an eNtortionate cab fare was prefer
able to floundering about in the rain
ut the mercy Of policemen and street
car conductors.
] And how that cab did jolt and
grind over the stone pavements! The
Minnesota girl sighed as she thought
of the we'll paved streets of ST. Paul
and the macadamized boulevards of
beautiful Minneapolis. Dear old home
How she had loved it through all the
joys and SORROWS of her past And
now that she would be placed amid
new scenes and environments in
Chicago-great, busy, money-making
Chicago-would she who had come to
join the money-makers be able to for
get? Would she ever again know love
and happiness?
Although Jet had never before set
foot in Chicago the place did not seem
wholly strange to her. For did not
the body of her dearly loved brother
Tom repose in an honored grave in
Calvary, that beautiful forest ceme
terry on the north shore? Tom had
served his country in Cuba in '9S and
it was fatal malaria contracted there
that caused his death in Chicago
was laid away under the green trees
in the burial lot furnished by the
Typographical union, of which society
Tom was most popular and esteemed
member. And now Jets thoughts
went out to Gerald Cunningham, big,
handsome, careless, blue-eyed Gerald
her lover from whom she had parted
that o-be-forgotten day almost
six years ago. How distinctly she
could recall that scene in the little
parlor at home and Gerald's parting
words of anger as he flung himself
from the room expressing the hope
, that he might never again behold her
in this world. The bitterness of those
last words left Il wound in Jets pride
that was ranking even now. And yet
how loyal he had been to Tom in
Cuba afterward. And when, later on,
they had returned to Chicago and both
had worked together and occupied the
same sleeping apartments and Toms
Illness had taken serious turn, was
not Gerald a veritable guardian angel,
lowering around the sick bed and min
istering even until the last rites were
performed over his comrades grave?
Her mother, who had been summoned
to the deathbed Of her son, never
wcaried of telling her about Gerald's
untiring kindness during those sad
hours. But Jet had always remained
obdurate on the subject Of Gerald and
after awhile requested that his name
never again be mentioned in the home.
A year later Jet suffered another
bereavement in the death of her
mother, a circumstance which left her
entirely alone in the world. But the
fortitude of the girl never forsook her,
even under calamities that might have
crushed an older woman. "A merciful
dspensation of providence had blessed
her with light heart and a happy
disposition in which tears and laugh
ter were very close together-a tenn
permanent peculiarly Irish.
erin! the tear and the smile in thine
Blend like the rainbow that hangs in
thy skies!
Shining through sorrows stream,
Saddening through pleasures beam,
Thy suns with doubtful CLEAN
Weep while they rise
Her gloomy meditations were pres
entity disturbed by the sudden pulling
up of the cab. The driver alighted
and opening the door pointed to a
stairway entrance, above which hung