Year: 1875

It was the beautiful summer time ; the
trees were clothed in their richest foliage;
the birds sang swcctly; the little lambs
frisked about merrily in the green fields,
every ything looked bright and happy.


Prosperity reigned over the little village
of Ballyglen, which nestles among the
hills, in a beautiful valley, in the western
part of Ireland, and rs the story which l
am going to relate happened there, we will
ask the reader to accompany us across the
three thousand miles of water that inter-
venes.


Through the centre of this village a
beautiful river wound its scrpentine course.
the banks of which, on either side, were in
terspersed by numerous picturesque man
sions, the property of several rich gentle
men, who were masters of all the lands
over which the eye roamed.


AS our story relates to one of those man
sions, or at least the inmates of one of them,
we will confne ourselves to it and not
mind the rest.


Godfrey Blake was a very wealthy man,
his gold could be measured by the bushel,
and yet, with all his immense wealth. he
possessed none of the arrogance or worldly
pride that some men have when favored
by such good fortune.


He had a lovely daughter named Molly
lovely i'll every sense of the word. a beauti-
full blonde whose long. wavey tresses of
golde hair hung over her finely modelled
form, almost to the ground, and eyes blue
as the summer sky of her native home, and
whose tender-hearted goodness made her a
favorite with rich and poor for mile
around.


Now, as may be supposed, there were
numerous admirers who looked with low
ing eyes on the peerless girl, some OF them
SONS of the richest men of the province, but
all to no purpose; for her love was be-
slowed on one, though he was far below
her in worldly point or view. His name
was Gerald O'Conner, the only son of a
widow, and on him she bestowed all the
love of her young heart.


Now, there was another young man in
the village who loved. or professed to love,
Molly Blake and tried every means avail
able to blacken the character of young
O'Conner


On the evening when first we introduce
them To the reader, the pangs of jealousy
had great cause to arouse the ire of his
nature.


They were seated side by side under the
branches of an elm tree, her pretty hand
was nestled on his shoulder, as she listened
to his words of love.


"4Molly, love you dearly, and it would
be the happiest day of my life when
could call you mine; but, darling, you,
know that am poor, and your father may
object to my suit


"Gclald, don't you know father better
than that !? He is not the man to offer
any opposition to my happiness when he
knows that he whom / love is worthy of
the best girl in Ireland"


"Bless you, my darling for your words
have made me very happy


at is the truth which l have spoken !;
and as for your being poor, why, haven't l
got plenty for Us both


This was too much for the eveslropper,
he ground his teeth with rage, and an
oath escaped his bps, yet he managed to
keep his temper, and waited to hear more
of their conversation, for he lay concealed
among the shrubbery few feet from where
the lovers were seated and heard every
word of their conversation.


For some time longer they remained
seated at their conversation, and at length
as the shadows Of approaching night be-
gan to steal across the tree tops they arose
and separated, Molly going towards the
house. while O'Conner wandered leisurely
through the sweet scented meadows toward
the river bank.


No sooner had they parted than Anthony
Bell, for such was the listeners name
arose from his place of concealmcnt, an !,
shaking his clenched fist at the retreating
form of his successful rival Missed throu.. !,
his clenched teeth:


"Culse you, you low-lived upstart Bat
I Will blackcn you in her sight; aye, even
i have to stain my hands in blood to
Go So !"


And IS he ceased to speak he stuffed lis
hands in his trowscrs pockets and strodc
iercely from the place,


A month had passed and the shades of
tranquility rested over the little vi.l,ge OF
Ballyglen, when one leauiful autumn
evening its slumbering inhabitants were
awakened from their blissfu! repose by the
cry Of:


"Murder %


Murder. The terrible word seemed to
be echoed from the surrounding hills and
filed the hearts of the people with awe.


And too true was the awful tidings; q
fiendish murder had been committed, and
the victim was Godfrey Blake.


And the murderer; he was found bent
over the PROSTATE form of his victim with
a blood-stained dagger in his hand Gerald
O'Conner, the lover of his daushter-and
was now safely lodged in prison.