New Iberia enterprise and independent observer., 1921-02-12
A FIRESlDE TALE
BY JENNIE LITTLE.

6N66d6C'A66lS1 6Cb0b16JSd0OT
| 10 1921. by Mcclure Newspaper Syndicate.
| Another story, child dear7 Sure II!
| overdrawn like the Ponzi fcllas my
| fund Will be, with such a demand
We'll, then. come with me. Of an eve
ming that I have in mind. to q grand
concert hall In the city. A wonder
full prims donna. the idol Of her audi
ences In two continents. has come up
on the stage for her last number. As
she stands waiting for the applause to
die away. something that she reads
in the waves Of upturned fnces moves
her to sudden impulse. and with q
tender little smile. instead Of the clas-
s'csi selection OH the program. her
voice second only in sweetness to the
angels fllls the vast room with:
There's a pretty spot In Ireland,
i always claim for my land"
In one Of the boxes sat two Of the
earth's prosperous. and like lightning
artist the mans mind flashed picture
after picture on his memory's screen.
young gossoon full to the brim Of the
sheer JOY Of living. The Scotch would
call him lad o parts. the English a
topping chap but I'll declare to you
Tint he was just regular broth Of
boy. Every old granny i'm the village.
and clear down to every lass. thought
the sun had its rising and setting in
his merry charm. but only Eileen Nc
DoDngh had Il mortgage on his affec-
tions. All. but she was the winsOme
to be found in days travel.
Then an uncle in America sent
money for his passage, with tales of
success that set the lad wild to go.
Eileen must stay with her old folks.
but when he had good start, then he
would send for her. and together they
would conquer this fine new country.
my heart goes back there daily,
To the girl | left behind me.
When we kissed and said good-by."
Ab yes mt first twas so. Luck and
pluck were with him. and his foothold
grew firmer and stronger. and some
how in the struggle. Eileen drfted
further into the background of his
thoughts. The old bodies went one
by one, and the black sorrow of lone
liness was almost more than she could
abide. but never did her sweetheart
grow bitter or complaining i'm its !
wenrying for him. Faithful and true
she was to her trotb with Terence
O'Neill.
"Where dear old Shannon's flowing,
Where the three-leaved Shamrock
grows
Where my heart is ! am going
To my little Irish Rose.
And the moment that | meet her.
With hug and kiss I'll greet her"
Conscience woke up entirely, and n
'hillaIab stroke was gentle compared
o the pain she gave him. For in
hesc latest months of his prosperity
ne had decided that only high-born,
'ultured American woman could rule
lis home and help to find new fields
or his never-satisfied ambitions, and,
without thought Of
owe. he had set about to win her. This
cry minute, by his side, sat the Indy
4 his worldly choice. and he had felt
1uch elated that now she seemed not
great deal averse to his gallant at
entions. Sure, she never knew about
hat common past, and almost had he
its connection with the aris-
)cratic banker who looked at him
'om the mirror. Till tonight, that is.
Sure no letter I'll be mailing,
For soon will be sailing.
And I'll bless the ship that takes me
To my dear old Erin's Shore"
The lady turned with n disdainful
irl Of the lip. Really" says she, :
me might expect the best music here
nd not vulgar street songs" and Ter
ices heart turned over with thud
gratitude that wisdom had come
It too late.
Very quiet was he on the way home,
ID as he handed her from the limou-
ne, declined her gracious invitation
th "Not tonight, thank you, as I
We pressing business to attend to I'm
And I probably will not
e you again for some time. as I
I'VE on the Canopics next date Of
ling"
INDEED" said the lady, in dis
.ased surprise. "Surely this Is very
iden" >
I've not yet booked my passage"
vs. Terence. with an Old-time Irish
n, ''but think the fates won't fail
J this time" And neither did they.
And now we come to matchless
ming in dear old KiIlaloe--a night
enchanted moonlight. when all the
ries and little folk are casting their
Ills on everything. AT alone at her
idow sits Eileen. with the melting
eetness Of her harp suiting her voice
she sings so sadly: ut may be
rs. and It may be forever" And
D the room strides Terence OF her
uGhts st
Not on your lifer' says he in the
e American style. and then dropped
his knees beside her, and into the
der old broguc. "Afavourneen. all
! time I've been madly. foolishly