Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-10-27

autumn is an experience trying to the pa
thence even to the temper, OF the average
Saxon. Yet James Milbanke made neither
comment nor objection as mile after mile
of roadway spun away like ribbon behind
him as the mud rose In showers from the
wheels of the old-fashioned trap in which
he sat and the half-trained mare between
the shafts swerved now to the right. now
to the left. her nervous glance caught by
the spectral shapes of the blackthorn hedges
or the motionless forms of the wayside
donkeys lying asleep in the bitches. Per-
haps this stoicism was the outcome of an
Innate power to endure; perhaps II was
merely negative quality illustrating the lack
of that doubtful blessing, imagination.
Whatever its origin it stood him in good
stead as he covered the long stretch of fiat
country that links the southeastern seaport
of Muskeere with the remote fishing village
of Carrigmore and its outlying district OF
Orristown.
His outlook upon Ireland. like his outlook
upon life. was untinged by humor. He had
seen no ground for amusement in the fact
that he had been the only passenger to
alight from the train at the Muskeere ter
minus. and consequently no ground FOR
loneliness in the sight of the solitary We
hicle, dimly silhouetted against the murky
sky that had awaited his coming. The
ludcrous points of the scene-the primitive
railway station with its insufficient flicker
ing lights its little knot of inquistive idlers,
its one porter slovenly. amiable, incor-
rightly lazy. all contributing the uncon-
scous background to his own neat conven-
tional, totally alien personality, had left
him untouched.
The only individual to whom the picture
had made its appeal had been the solitary
porter AS he relieved Milbanke of his
valise and rug the step of the frst-class
carriage an undeniable twinkle had cleaned
In his eyes
Fine soft night sir, he had volunteered.
Tim Burke is outside for YOU
For a second Milbanke had stored at him
In a mixture of doubt and displeasure. A
months pilgrimage to the ancient Celtic
landmarks had left him as it has left many
Saxon before him. unlearncd in that most
interesting and most inscrutable of all sur
vivals-the Celt himself. He had surveyed
the face of the porter cautiously and half
distrustfully; then he had made a guarded
reply.
Il am certainly expecting "a convey
ance." he had admitted. But have never
heard the name of Tim Burke.
why. thin Tim has heard of you." the
other had renlied. with unruff1ed suavity.
Isn't ii the English gintlem1n that's goin'
TO stop wild Mr.. Asshln over at Orris,own
that YOU are? Sure Tim told me all about
you; an | knew YOU the minute | sat eyes
on you-let alone there was no wan else In
the train" Without mere ado he had
hoisted Milhanke's belongings to his shout
der and lounged out of the station.
Here you are. Tim, mani" he had eX-
claimed he had deposited tie articles
one after another under the seat of the trap
with a lofty disregard OF the!r owner
TITS a soft night an long road you have
before you. Is it cold the mare is?' He
had paused to eye the impatient young ami
NAL before him with the Irishman's unfail-
ing appreciation of horse1esh.
Here Milbanke. feeling that some yelled
reproof had been suggested, had broken in
upon the monologue.
Il hope | haven't injured the horse by the
delay" he had said. hastily. 1.-THE train
was exactly twenty-five minutes behind its
time"
TIL tt,, ~ LII
had bent down from his lofty position
An sure what harm If it was. sir?' he
had exclaimed. voicing the hospitality due
to his masters guest. What hurry is
there at also long as 1t brought you
safer
True for YOU Tim" the porter had inter-
jected softly. and. seizing Milbanke's arm
he had swung him into the trap precisely
as he had swung the luggage few seconds
previously.
moment later Good might to you! Good
night, TIM Safe road!' And. drawing
back. he had looked on with admiration
while Burke had gathered up the reins and
the mare had plunged forward into the
misty, sea-sCented night.
That had been Milbanke's first introduce
ton into the district where he proposed to
spend a week with man he had not seen
for nearly thirty years.
AS the trap moved forward. leaving the
struggling town with its scattered lights
far behind, his thoughts, temporarily dis
tracted by the incidents of his arrival. re-
verted to the channel in which they had
run during the greater part of the day.
Again his mind returned to the period of
his college career when. as a quiet student.
he had been drawn by the subtle attraction
of contrast into a friendship with Denis
Asshin, the young Irishman whose spirit,
whose enthusiasms whose exuberant joy in
life had shone in such vivid coors beside
his own neutral-tinted personality. His
thoughts passed methodically from those
eager, early days to the more sober ones
that had followed Asshlns recall to Ire
land. and thence onward over the succeed
Ing tale of years. He reviewed his own
calm IL somewhat lonely manhood; his aim
less delving first into one branch of learn
ing. then into another: his gradually dawn
ing interest in the study of archaeoogy-an
interest that fostered by ample leisure and
ample means. had become the temperate
and well-ordered passion of his life.
The retrospect was pleasant. There
Is always an agreeable sensation to
a man OF Milbanke's temperament in
looking back upon unruffied times. He
became oblivious of the ruts in the road of
the mares erratc movements as he traced
the course of events to the point where two
months before the discovery of a dozen
platters OF pure gold and as many drinking
vessels, embedded in bog in the county
Tyrone, had turned the eyes of the arch
geological world upon Ireland! and he. with
other students OF antiquity. had been bitten
with the desire to see the unique and price
less objects for himself.
The Journey to Tyrone had been pleas
ant experience; and it was there. under the
mild eXaltauon of the genuine find, that 1t
had suddenly been suggested to his mind
that certain ancient ruins. including re-
markable specimen of the Irish round
tower, were to be found the southeast
coast not three miles from the property of
his old college friend.
Whether it was the archaeological instinct
TO resurrect the past the merely human
wish to relieve his own small portion of 1t,
that had prompted him to write to Asshln
must remain open question. 1t is suffi-
Client that the letter written and dis
patched and that the answer came in hot
haste.
II had reached him in the form of a tele-
gram, running follows:
Come at once and stay for a year. Stag
mating to death in this isolation.
"ASSHLIN."
An hour later another and a more volum-
nous message had followed. in which, as
II by an after-thought. he had been given
the necessary directions as to the means
OF reaching Orristown.
1t was at the point where his musings
reached Asshlin's kilograms that he awak-
ened from his revery and looked about him.
For the first time personal interest In the
Country through which he was passing stir
red him. He realized that the salt sting of
no sea had again leelln 10 min OIL uith A.