The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1918-08-30


be dacent& and he worked until he
worked his way through college, and
him-an Irisaman like ourselves
Twin on nothing a week so that he
could be dedicated and be fit to hold
high places. You talk about his being
poor Christianr Well, he's good
enough for the bishop, wpo's blessed
every room In Mr.. Muicahsy's new
house. I hope you'll feel better, Fin
for KNOWN that when you want
him to get you on the fOorcel"
There was a laugh, and Tim sat
down by the stove.
but, byes, want We. Dimmycrat
or Republican, to vote for Barney
Mulcahey. the man. Now listen, I'm
going to tell We something that / hoped
would lie buried In my heart, and I
ask you not to mintion 1t among your
selves, for it's hard to speak of. Mr..
Reddy. you remember what a foine
man my father was In years gone ?
Well, they turned him out from Mon
rOe's mill. Your choice for mlmber
said he stole. Think of that, byes, a
Moriarty of Limerick thief! OF
course 1t was all lie. and they found
the right man, but they never righted
1t with my father, and he took to drink.
They broke his heart.
"We were poor after that, almost
too poor to eat, and always too proud
to beg, so those years like to forget.
One night I woke up, and 1 heard a
man in the next room saying to my
father, Mr.. Moriarty, Irishmen should
stand by each other. l have been
looking for you, and I want you to be
janitor in the Neenagh block Not q
word did he say about his discharge
from Monroe. But it was too late,
and my father died, and today, in
stead Of lying in POtter's field, he is
in st. Joseph's, with a stone at his
head. Barney Mulcahey was a true
friend, I tell We, and he looked for
nothing in return. Byes. don't be jeal-
Gus OF his wealth; he deserves every
bit Of 1t, but take his own words,
Irishmen should stand by each 9TH
err Good night. The shutters are
going up"
1t was presidential year. but on
election night the interest In the Thir-
teenth ward was centered on the men,
Der of congress, and the saloon Of the
Widow Flynn was crowded early in
the evening. No private wire ran into
the room, but messengers from the
polls were constant and talkatlve.
The widow was Enthusiastically nervous,
and let many glass foam over on
the tidy bar.
"How Is 1t going" she demanded
Of old Reddy as he came In.
Il dunno, I dunno" he said. IL
done all / can. heard Monroe man
say somebody's been tamperin' with
this ward since yesterday noon. If
the ward goes Republican It's you
that's done 1t, wildly"
"Where's Pat?' asked some one.
"HOw should known retorted the
widow consciously. II haven't seen
him since last night"
swell, have, thin," answered Tim
with chuckle. "At five o'clock this
mOrnin' he had his mothers nag
hitched to Dimmycrat wagon, and
he was draggin' all the old dubs In
the ward to the polls"
And the widow laughed.
The clock struck eleven, then twelve,
and still the shutters were open, and
no certain word had come from the
polls. The fire bells rang out and the
engine tore down the street, but to-
night 1t made no difference to the
waiting crowd. The clock struck one.
Outside there was a wild "hurrah,"
and Pat Murphy sprang into the room,
waving his hat.
"HOOray" he cried. "HoOrayi The
Thirteenth went solid for Mulcahey!"
Great circles were under his eyes,
for he had forgotten to eat that day,
and he could scarcely stand for weari-
ness.
"Pat," called the widow, "come
here"
Murphy walked over to the bar, and
in the face and eyes of the crowd the
widow put both arms round his neck
and kissed him.