The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1906-08-23
TIE EVENING STORY
Barney's Fortune.

I seen nowhere DGEOnQ the SnOEco u
ireland The pungent peat smoke
drifted laziiy against the intense blue
Of the sky. Thrushes sang on the
/ boughs of gnarled apple trees that
sktrted the low stone walls. Barney
thought he never had seen the VIII
| lage look lovelier; but then, as every
one knew, Barney was the most hap
/ py-go-lueky lad in the parish
| A matched cabin of one room and a
! couple of pigs comprised his worldly
possessions; but Light Of purse and
] light Of heart he often said, lis bet
ter than riches and the govt" He
found only one drawback in poverty,
and that was that he could not ask
Eileen Kearny to marry him till he
had more to offer her.
Yet hope is always a-stir when one
is young, and Barney knew that with
thrift and perseverance he could lay
/ by enough; so rain or shine he work
ed in the peat boys with a song on his
/ lips, for he felt that every penny he
laid by was bringing Eileen nearer to
him.
He thought of this exultantly as he
strolled with her in the long twilights
when the wind was as soft as a ca
ress and the scent of apple blossoms
came family on the air.
Eileen was like an apple blossom
herself, to Barneys thinking. She had
/ the same delicate coloring. and
grace as airy as the swaying of
/ bough. Yet If she loved him she gave
no sign If she smiled on him she
also smiled on his cousin Hugh. sui
! len-mouthed lad far more prosperous
than poor Barney.
Eileen divided her favors equally,
and the village looked on and wonder
ed which man would win. Now fate
seemed inclined toward one, and now
/ toward another
The villagers themselves inclined
toward Barney. Every one liked him.
from the bare-legged children to the
wrinkled women who covered above
the hearth-stones-
He was a favorite, too, with his ola
uncle Seamus McShane, who had left
Ireland for America years before
| when Barney was only a bit of a lad.
But his uncle wrote to him every year,
and 1t was an accepted fact that Bar
ney would be his heir=though the
/ legacy was thing OF the dim future
so dim that it hardly made a back
ground for present need.
Seamus McShane came Of a sturdy,
! lOng-lived race. Therefore it was with
a distinct shock that one fine spring
/ morning Barney received notice of his
uncle's death. The lads first feeling
was one of sorrow that Seamus should
| have died in far land without either
lith or kin; yet his uncle was only a
memory, so it was pardonable that his
next should be one of joy a the pos
sibilities opened to him. for now he
I
had fallen heir to he did not know,
/ but guessed it to be in the neighbor-
/ hood of forty pounds-not a large sum
in itself. though it seemed like riches
! to the folk of that wind-swept,
/ famine-ridden village.
As the news of Barney's fortune
sped his popularity trebled-
Il alwa-s had ? fondness for the
boy" said Biddy Mcbride.
-" 'Tis q foine lad he is entoirely."
agreed old DOunRliv
Barney carried himself modestly
! enough He was not unduly elated al
what had befallen him, though his
/ heart sang within him at his luck. and
his feet seemed scarcely to touch the
earth as he went from house to house
bidding his friends to the wake which
he purposed having the following
evening in memory Of his uncle.
'Tis no keening I want ye to do, at
ALL" he declared "a IT'S not in such
mournful fashion he'd have us keep
him in mind. But come and dhrink
his sowls peace with me-"
No one in the village was neglected
from this general invitation, and they
arrived early at Barney's bare little
home. where candles burned with a
cheerful glow, and where laughter
and shutting of feet half muf7ed the
music played by a wandering fiddler.
All the village was there save Hugh
and no one seemed to know where he
had gone or what had become of him
information that he had been seen
riding away from Ballymoran at
brisk canter-a piece of news to
which Barney paid small heed, so en-
crossed was he in watching Eileen as
she swung through a reel, eyes Alright
and step as swift as rairy's. It
seemed to Barney that he never had
been so happy. He went about among
the guests, promising gifts to this one
and that. and hardly hearing the
y + ~cfT
Presently the door opened and Hugh
appeared among them.
:" It's late We are, avick," said Bar
ney. but ye're none the less well
corne''
Ills from the postoffice I am
answered Hugh, and drew from the
pocket OF his mud despatched coat an
official-looking envelope. the seal of
which was not yet broken.
"Belike it's from uncle Seamus.
Hugh went on. and the guests gather
ed round him, while Eileen held the
candle that he might read.
Barney sat on a table nearby.
swinging his feet. He stole a glance
at Eileen and noted the shadow the
candle threw across her face and how
her dark lashes swept the rose of her
cheek. ''Arrah, my darlint" he whis- |
pered to himself, before this evenin's
gone I'll have your promise." Then |
he composed himself to listen to the
letter.
It was very brief-brief as the
hopes of Barney. for it was to Hugh
that Seamus McShane had left his
fortune. When Hugh had finished |
reading the letter the guests drew a |
long breath. Barney was the first to |
come forward and congratulate him. /
"Shure, there's no one more deserv- /
ing of II than yourself" he said stead |
lily: but his voice was lost in the gen
era1 acclaim, for Hugh had become /
the hero of the evening. The atten- |
tions that had formerly been shower /
ed on Barney were now 1avished on |
him. His good fortune went to his |
head like wine.
''since I'm the heir" he cried. 'tye
must all come home with me and /
drink remembrance to uncle Sea-
II.