The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1919-01-25

my line new SOHS-DeSSlnS your par
don for calling it so-about the Lam
entable Drowning at Bundoran of Doc
tor Michael Cassidy:
ITS Doctor Michael Cassidy
Whose loss we do deplore,
He's drowned at Bundoran
And We'll never see him more"
: So caroling, he moved away, only to
fling back a word of cheer and hope
from the roadway to the young people l
in the pasture.
Suddenly, when he judged he was
beyond their hearing, the carelessly
tragic words died away on his lips.
For his thoughts were very busy with
the situation presented by Mary Boy
lan's confidence. That it was an old
situation-the eternal rustic Irish tri-
angle of the careful peasant, bent on
his daughter making a good match"
contrary to her own preconceived pref
erence for a more romantic mating
lent it no alleviating brightness
True, over and over again in the
course of his long career, he had seen
such matches prove their own best
apology and extenuation. The girl had
settled down to commended housewife
cry, solicitous motherhood and every
other attribute of the Irish home. But
Mary BOylan was a creature of an ex-
traordinary fine and sensitive mold,
and Matthew honestly believed that
the decree which forced transfer
of her allegiance from Hugh Leonard
to her older sutton would be the death
warrant of her future happiness; and,
thinking so, he tried to fashion from
the materials with. which his Creator
had gifted him plan to counterfeit
the designs of the two old men for the
matrimonial placement of the gentle,
unhappy girl. ~.. .s....,., .@.
These thoughts were yet running
chaotically embarrassed to any line of
action when a sudden turn in the road
way brought him most unexpectedly
face to face with old Martin Boylan
himself-a result due to the fact that
the farmer was emerging at the mo-
ment from a small wicket-gate abut-
ting on the road, leading a sturdy
farmhouse, which presently, with
Matthew's assistance, he indicted in
| to the shafts of a blue and red farm
wagon. An invitation to Matthew to
a seat beside himself on the cross
board was the natural consequence
of this assistance. ..,.. ..,s Z
Having made few remarks touch
ing the ordinary rural interests of
crops, cattle, weather, etc., Martin
Boylan subsidized into silence; and
presently, perhaps to divert his loneli-
ness, his fellow-journeyer burst into
song:
ut was on a fine morning, for soft
recreation, 80
| And deep meditation I CHANGED for
to stray,
When before me spied a young dam
sci a-weeping,
| And sweet was her face as the
flowers in May.
Says /, My young fair maid, what
| causes your grieving
| pray you most kindly to tell unto
/ me-. .-ts s.
oh says she, -sit's my father, most
hard and cold-hearted,
Who to rich farmer would fain
| marry mel
At this interesting juncture Martin
Boylan put in gruffly-inquiring word
What's that you're singing now?"
he demanded grouchily.
| ooh, a bit of a song that I'm Just
composing for company as go along, =
answered old Matthew pleasantly,
''and that by the time we reach town,
| I'll be ready to sing in the Fair-green.' .
"Humph! It's a great wonder to me
that an old man like yourself, that
might well be thinking of your pray
ers, 'ud be wasting your time on such
1 foolishness!"
4 I'm no older a man than yourself,
Martin Boylan---no, nor as old by q
whole twelve-month. And if s was
| twice as old itself, I'd be doing the
very same thing I'm doing this day
singing Of the wrongs Of the OPP
pressed and the distressed and the
downtrodden."
1.-The oppressed and the distressed
and the downtrodden,! With unc-
tious disdain Martin Boylan rolled Off
the words. Faith and it's little any
sensible man would care for the worst
that the best of you could sing of him.
For myself, wouldn't give a cracked
sixpence for all the songs you could
write from this tonext Michaelmas-''
"Oh, you wouldn't, them Faith,
! and there's many man has thought
the. same, lived to regret it; and
there's many man this day nd be
]resting free and happy and honored in
his grave, if it wasn't for the songs
that handed down his shortcomings to
posterity. Look, now, at, Lord Castle
reagh, and what the great English
| poet, Lord Byron done for him" !.
! Martin Boylan SHE'D away uneasily
from these patrician names.
ITS, about yourself I'm speaking,
Matthew Flaherty. To waste your
days and nights making up old rams