The Intermountain Catholic. (Salt Lake City [Utah] ;) 1899-1920, 1909-02-20
The Blind Man.

The coat, long and black, reaches as far
as the knees, and the trousers Of the
same color, though old, are still re-
spectacle looking and show the marks
Of considerable brushing. Across the
back is slung a black stachel, through
the mouth of which de discern the top
of a fiddle. There is a weary look about
the old mans face, a sad. weary look
which seems to say How long, oh
Lord, how long," Yes, the world has
few attractions for Denis Shea, the
blind fiddler, and he would gladly well
come the voice of God calling his SER
want home 10 the land where there is
no shadow, but perpetual light. Born
blind, poor Denis never saw the beauty
of Gods creation; his life was spent
walking
Under the shade perpetual, that never
Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the
moon"
Day for the others ever, but for me
Forever night; forever night,
his cropping steps seem to say. / never
saw the old man but a, feeling of sad
ness stole over me, and 1 shuddered as
/ thought of the great cross it must
be never 10 be able to see the sun steal
out from the gates of dawn, the beauty
OF wood. mountain and sea. the fresh
ness of the springtime, the glory of the
summer, the mellow splendor of the
autumn. and vet 1 never heard one
word of complaint fall from the old
mans lips. 1t was glory be to God
even in his darkest hour. Denis lived
In small cottage near the forge. but
since his sister Mary died he scarcely
ever remained at home, but wandered
up and down the country. He dearly
loved Mary: she was a kind sister to
him, and in her loving ministrations he
partly forgot his affliction. But ever
since the day she was laid to rest in
the old graveyard poor Denis seemed to
have lost all love for the old rooftree.
When l am there he would say. Il
am always expecting to hear her
voice, and when I do not hear it, the
place feels so lonely that l cannot stay
there" and so, with his fiddle on his
back, Denis travelled from house to
house up and down the country.
And he wandered away and away
With Nature. the dear old nurse,
Who sang to him night and day
The rhymes of the universe,
And whenever the way seemed long
Or his heart began to fail.
She would sing a more wonderful
songs
Or tell a more marvellous tale
Denis was welcomed everywhere he
went, and the people Wed with one an
other in their acts of kindness to him
The children dearly loved the old man,
and when he used to return to his ma
tive village they would gather around
him and ask him to tell them stories
or play something on the fiddle for
them. And seated on a stool in the
center of them, the old man forgot his
sorrows Bent over his fiddle, the mu-
sic came, and every note seemed to say
Come to me, We children,
For hear you at your play,
And the questions that perpleXed me
Have vanished quite away.
In your hearts are the birds and the
sunshine,
In your thoughts the brooklet's flow,
But in mine is the wind of Autumn
And the first fall of the snow.
Come tome. o we children,
And whisper in my ear
What the birds and winds are singing
In your sunny atmosphere.
And the children came and fought
with each other for a place near the
old mans knee, and with bated breath
they listened to his tales about Jack the
Giant Killer, the fairies and the le-
prechAuns Denis had wonderful
memory. and he could relate with accu-
racy the doings of far off day, He
remembered OUonnelrs monster meet
ing at Tara, and it was with feelings of
the greatest pride and delight he told
mis- listeners what the emancipator said
that day,
He spoke he would say, an his
voice was like the trumpet, an 1 felt
me heart leap within me at his words
! would give the world to see him. but,
glory be to God for all things, Father
Tom tould me what he was like"
Wherever Denis spent the night the
neighbprs would all flock in and. seated
round the turf fire, you could hear PIN
drop as they listened to his tales. In
hts own simple way 1 never met any
one could tell a story better, and the
interest was always sustained to the
last. Before Denis began his story the
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SIS the story went Oh ore pipe after an
other went out, so interested did Denis
hearers become, and Jim Scully, IL
there was any tyranny in the story,
would infallibly seize the tongs and
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the hob. wishing no doubt that the ty-
rants head was within reach. When
the story was finished there would be
silence for a while. and then voice of
Bryan Casey. the SHOEMAKER, would be
heard saying:
"'Twis a fine story, Mister Shea, wud
a great endin'. bud yeh wor too kind
vyud the Sassaenack soldier. Begob,
I'd trate him as they trated Black Bill
ly Grimes ov Latnamard. Yez all know
what the poet says ov him:
BLACK Billy Grimes oy>Latnamard, he
racked us long and sore:
Cod rest the faithful hearts he broke
veil never see them more;
Bud I'll go bail he'll break no more,
while Truagh has gallows trees, /.
For why'd met one lonesome night
the fealess Rapparees,
The angry Rapparees.
They never sin no more, my boys, who
cross the Rapparees."
And Jim Scully, as he sings the last
line with Bryan Casey, gives the pot
crook q bang with the tongs that
causes a shower Of SCOT to fall down
the chimney.
A sweet smile would light up poor
Denis face at Bryan Casey's and jim
Scully's outburst, and then reaching
for his fiddle he would still the rising
wrath at the memory of Erin's wrongs