The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1909-01-30
CContinued.)
The Village Shoemaker.

Tap, tap. I can almost hear now aft
er a lapse of twenty-five years that
familiar tap. tap, with which Bryan
Casey, the shoemaker, drove home the
tacks and nails into the soles of the
boots he was either mending or max
ing. In my young days the sounds l
heard oftenest were tap, tap, and the
squeak of a voice which droned rather
than sang the following lines of Charles
Kiekham:
o! knowledge is a wondrous power, and
stronger than the wind,
And thrones shall fall and despots bow
before the might of mind.
The poet and the orator the heart of
man can sway,
And would to kind heavens that Wolf
Tone were here today.
Yet, trust me friends, dear IrelaSds
strength, her truest strength, is
still
The rough rowing boys, like
Rory of the hill.
Even in my sleep I heard that tap.
tap, and the squeaking voice droning
the above ballad, aye, such an impress
sion did these two sounds produce upon
my mind that on more than one occa-
sion, when my teacher babe me read
my lesson at school, / began the read
ing OF ii with tap. tap, and the recita
ton of half of those lines l would
have finished them, were ii not for my
teacher, dear Bartle Finnegan. He
stopped me with a gentle wave of his
hand, and the words:
Remember, my young budding Fen
ian, you are not breaking a yeOman's
head now. You are at school, and I'M
der the aegis of Bartholomew F'inne-
san, master of arts"
Bryan Casey's house was adjacent to
mine and hence the cause of my being
so familiar with these two sounds.
Bryan was a man of about So, thin as
a sally rod with sallow complexion and
long, yellow hair tinged with gray. He
was of medium stature, with one Shout
der lower than the other, and arms OF
extraordinary length for so small a
man. About the house or going his
rounds Of the village he never wore a
hat. 1t was only when he made a jour
ney from home that he donned head
gear, and then the material that COW
cred those yellow locks of his was COM
posed of rabbit skins sewn together into
the shape Of cap by his own hands
1t is a summers evening, and / see
Bryan seated inside the open window
beside table on which all kinds of old
strewn. A balf-finished shoe rests on
the inside Of the window. together with
= tablet on which is written in red and
white letters.
Me boots fit yeh to T, an me soles
are fur half nothin'''
Bryan has laid the shoe aside. and is
at the present moment engaged in read
ing a copy of the Weekly News. He
is highly excited, to judge from his
face, and the eager way he grasps the
paper.
Just as / said to Phil Mcguire last
week, the very words ! used thin. sr,ak-
in about political situashun A. NJ.
sullivan has uttered on the 1ure ov the
house ov commins.
'Rushia can't stor. says he, an Ger
many won't stir, says he, an France
an Americka is wud us. says he, so
Engiand's in q hoult, says he. just the
very words l said to Mcguire. Yis.
fcei it comm, ] feel it in me bones"
and with the paper held tightly in his
left hand, Bryan raises his right arm
tragically TO the rafters. and then
brings 1t down with a mighty thump
on the table, saying as he does 50:
You'll be a freeman yet, my boy"
said Rory of the hill.
Speech readin' nor poetry falutin'
never mends boots, yeh omadhaur. go
on wud yer work now an don't let me
ketch yeh flitterin' (frittering) away
Yer time asin. YiS," a shrill voice con-
tinues, yer all CRATE min at taIkin'.
bud wud all yer grateness an yer Rory
oY the Hills, yeh can't get a dacint
pump sunk in the village" and Betty
Casey, Bryans better half. filings her
cloak into the corner in indignation.
Poor Bryan, on hearing Bettys on
slaught, lays down the paper and with
a deep sigh takes up the boot Ever
since the day on which Bryan led Betty
70 the altar, Betty was the master
Father Tom, short time before Bry-
ans marriage, called into the shoemak-
er's shop and after the usual inquiries,
said:
81 hear, Bryan, you are going to be
married. Is it true?'
''Begorra, I suppose, yer reverince,
what everywan says must be true.
Twas Muldoon, the thatcher, made the
match for me-"
What is your intended like, Bryan"
Her eyes, yer reverince, are as black
IS sloes, an her hair is gouIden, an
her mouth is like Joe Rooney's cherries,
an she has the Grecian bind. She's a
iewil ov woman, yer reverince, that's
what she is
She must be fine girl, Bryan, if
what you tell me Is true
"She is, yer reverince, as beautiful as
the stars, bud 1 niver saw her yit"
Well, Betty Casey did not come UP to
her husbands expectations in regard to
beauty. but she had that useful beauty.
so commendable in woman, an aptitude,
a love for work, and she ruled her lord
and master with a kind and firm hand
Bryan was naturally inclined to be idle
and to take wee drop too much Of the
strong stuff. Just to cure me rheuma-
tism," as he himself used to say, but
Betty said mo- to both, and what Bet
ty said she meant. Bryan at first re-
belled against her dictation, in fact,
entered into consultation with Jim
Scully as to how he could get the bet
ter of his partner, and Jim Scully, with
q Whit Of his pipe, remarked:
Coax her. Bryan
Il tried it, Jim
'Intimidate her, thin"
II daren't do that, fur she'd whack
the divil out ov me-"
'fThen obey her, that's what we've got
TO do"
Bryan took Jim's advice, and from
that out obeyed his better half. Away
from home, however. Bryan would hold
forth on the weakness of any man who
for one instant would submit to petit
coat government. 81 niver do it me-