Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1921-03-16
A FIRESIDE TALE {
BY JENNIE LITTLE.


Another story, child dear? Sure It's
overdraWn like the Ponzi fellas my
tund will be, with such a demand.
Well then, come with me, of an eve
ming that | have in mind, TO a grand
concert hail in the city. A wonder
lUi prima 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 faces moves
her to sudden impulse, and with a
tender little smile. instead of the clas-
steal selection on the program, her
voice second only in sweetness to the
angels fills the vast room with:
There's a pretty spot in Ireland,
l 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.
In faraway County Clare he saw
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
that he was just regular broth of a
boy Every old granny in the village.
and clear down to every lass, thought
the sun had it's rising and setting in
his merry charm, but only Eileen Nc
Donagh had a mortgage on his atfec-
hylf 70 N
colleen. and the likes of her was not
TO be found in a 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 a good start, then he
| would send for her, and together they
would conquer this fine new country.
'NIy heart goes back there daily,
TO the girl ! left behind me.
When we kissed and said goodby."
Ah yes at first twas so. Luck and
| pluck We're with him, and his foothold
grew tirmer and stronger, and some
| how in the struggle, Eileen drifted
| further into the background of his
! thoughts. The old bodies went one
| by one, and the black sorrow of lone
! Illness was almost more than she could
| abide, but never did her sweetheart
| grow bitter or complaining in its
wearying for him. Faithfn4 and true
| she was to her troth with Terence
! O'Nell.
| "Where dear old Shannons flowing.
Where the three-leaved Shamrock
grows,
| Where my heart is I am going
To my little Irish Rose.
/ And the moment that l meet her,
With hug and kiss I'll greet her"
| Conscience woke up entirely. and a
| shillalah stroke was gentle compared
to the pain she gave him. For in
| these latest months of his prosperity
| he had decided that only high-born,
| cultured American woman could rule
| lis home and help to find new fields
| for his never-satistied ambitions. and,
| cOld-blOodedly, without thought Of
| love, he had set about to win her. This
very minute. by his side. sat the lady
| of his worldly choice, and he had felt
much elated that now she seemed not
| a great deal averse to his gallant at
| tentionS Sure, she never knew about
| that common past, and almost had he
| forgotten its connection with the arts
| tocratic banker who looked at him
| from the mirror Till tonight, that is.
Sure no letter I'll be mailing,
For soon will he sailing,
And I'll bless the ship that takes me
To my dear old Erin's shore
The lady turned with disdainful
curl of the lip. Really says she
lone might expect the best music here
md not vulgar street songs and Ter
crce'S heart turned over With a thud
Of gratitude that wisdom had come
not too late.
Very quiet was he on the way home,
and as lie handed her from the limou-
sine declined her gracious invitation
with "Not tonight, thank You. as
have pressing business to attend to i'm
mediately And l probably will not
see YOU again for some time, as
leave on the Canopic's next date Of
sailing"
Indeed" said the, lady, in dis
pleased surprise. "Surely this is very
sudden"
1--WE not vet booked my passage
says Terence with an old-time Irish
grin. ''hut think the fateS won't fail
me this time" And neither did they.
And row we come to a matchlesS
evening in dear Old Killaloe-a night
of enchanted moonlight when all the
fairies and little folk are casting their
spells on everything. All alone at her
window sits Eileen. with the melting
sweetness Of her harp suiting her voice
as she sings so sadly: at may be
years. and 1t may be forever" And
into the room strides Terence Of her
thoughts
mot on your life!" says he in the
truo American StVle and then drODDpd