The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1915-01-23

with him. | thought in the end that
it was dull life, and that I'd never
make money as quickly there as in
America-for was always fond of
moneyso ! went away at last and
left them there-the three Of them
and my mother wailing as if | was
going into my coffin. I'll never for
get the sound of her voice that day.
Its many time when / was next
door to starvation in the streets of
New York, and my only music the
curses of those had to herd with,
that longed for the sound of Danny's
fiddle in the old home in PARKWAY
Meath, and the happiness ! had left
behind me.
Il used to write now and then and
tell them, of course, that was doing
fine, and that New York was a great
place, while all the time | was like
beggar in the streets, going from
place to place, in search of work.
Then a tstroke of luck came, and !
got a job that gave me chance of
working up. I took the chance and
thought of nothing honne,- nor COM
fort, nor religion, nor anything -only
how to get on in the world, and toI
make more and more money. l grew
| to laugh at myself for the silly dreams
l used to have of home and of Danny'sI
| fiddle, but now and then the sound
of it would come to my ears in spite
of me, and turn all my gold into
worthless dross. For eighteen years
have asked no news of home, and
the letters that came to me after l
| had got on in the world | left I'M
answered, because the devil of greed
| had got hold of me. / grew to be
| hard man-hard as iron-and said
to myself that would never bother
my head about Ireland. But strange
things happen to all of us. A little
over two weeks ago / met a young
Irish priest in hospital where a
| workman of mine was ill, and the talk
we had together made my mind I'M
easy, and set my heart longing for
old times, and before / knew how 1t
i had come about, was kneeling be-
side that young Irish saint, making
my first confession in fifteen years.
And couple of days later left my
affairs in the hands of my partner,
and started for home. I simply
couldn't resist the call that came into
my heart, and l wanted the clasp of
my mothers hand again, and Nora's
smile, and the sound of Danny's ffd-
| die. I don't deserve to be forgiven,
| do /? But still know that love will
meet me in the old home, and give
me welcome for sake of other times,
and for Gods sake. That's why
wanted you to play for me, and The
Foggy Dew above ALTO bring me
nearer to my mother, and Danny, and
Nora, and old GlenoWen, and"
The crash of the fiddle and bow
falling to the ground made the stran-
ger jump, and caused him to withdraw
his gaze from the glowing heart of
the fire and to fix it anxiously on the
fiddlers face.
! There was wonderful change to
be seen there, The dazed look was
gone, the fiddler's eyes were aglow
with excitement, his lips trembled.
"Who?-what did you say?-What
place was that you mentioned?" he
cried, hurriedly, and then, without
waiting for an answer:
What's your name?" he said, in a
hoarse voice. There was tense excite.
ment in his tones and he was trem.
bling from head to foot.
"Donovan-Tom Donovan. Is there
any"
TON! Tom! | knew it would be
Toni" cried the other, as he gripped
the strangers two hands in his own
and sobbed like child.
Don't you know me, Tom? Don't
you know Danny? o, thank God that
you are coming home again! Sure
| knew the old fiddle would find you
somewhere, some time, and bring you
i back to Glenowen."
The hard man of the world was
sobbing now, and tears-of Joy or sor
row-were standing in his eyes.
Thank God, Danny, thank God!
he said, huskily, as he retained his
grip of his brothers hands. Then
there was silence in the room for a
few moments silence.
Danny, is my mother alive?"
"She is, Tom; thanks be to God!"
!, "And Nora?"
She's with the others in Heaven
Tom, these long years"
!; An hour later they were seated in
the train bound for Glenowen, and
there was a wonderful change in both
of them. Danny, dressed out in a
smart suit and greatcoat of Toms
you would hardly take to be the fam.
ished- looking fiddler who had played
, through the streets of Dublin that
very day; and Tom, in the great
, peace that had come to him, felt hap
pier and younger than he had been
!, for many a long year.
1t was in the train that Danny told
! his story: how he had started in
search of Tom after Kitty's death,
because the poor old mother wanted
Tom and Danny to be with her at the
last how he had travelled here and
there through America, playing "The
Foggy Dew in every street of every
city, hoping against hope that the lit
of it might reach the lost ones ear:
how he had written from time to
time to the mother waiting at home,
giving her cheering news, but never
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