The Argosy — page 342: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

326 ‘*KITLINGS FOR HIS REVERENCE.” M® WILLIAMSON, the kindly, charitable rector of a remote parish in Tyrone, was consulted by his own flock upon matters spiritual and temporal, but more especially upon the latter ; and by the flocks of priest and minister upon their worldly cares and interests. He was a notable farmer, and in truth was just as glad to prescribe for the sick horse or cow of a Roman Catholic or Presby- terian as of a Churchman. He was an easy-going humorist—one who enjoyed the foibles of his fellow creatures, extracting amusement and much food for laughter out of them. To see him rub his plump hands as he told a quaint anecdote did your very heart good. He had never had an enemy, and even in Land League times, lived on the old comfortable footing with his neighbours, who numbered among them greedy tenants, seditious Nationalists, war-like Orangemen and panic-stricken Protestants. How came it that he managed to live in such comfort ? Let us premise that he was not a landlord, but had a good sum of money in the funds, consequently his income was secure whatever happened. And for the rest he was a Gallio! Careless of the fierce excitements that shook his world, he took religion and_ politics lightly, was neither spiritually-minded enough to care for differences of belief, nor combative enough to dispute about politics. In fact, the opinions that have convulsed the world were nothing to him : he cared only to have his laugh comfortably. He was a middle-aged bachelor in 1883, looked after in his snug rectory by two old servants, Ned Gilmore and his wife Matty, both as great characters as their master. As Mr. Williamson sat one day in his study, culling appropriate passages from several volumes of sermons and weaving them into a discourse, he heard a ring at the hall-door, and Matty presently entered the room with a basket in her hand. ‘s What is it, Matty?” asked her master. ‘‘Tv’s Mrs. Morrow, wi’ a little kitling for your reverence. She heered tell that we were polluted wi’ rats an’ mice,” “ Very kind of her. Thank her cordially for me, and treat the kitten well.” Exit Matty with the kitten. Another ring, another parley in shrill tones at the hall-door, and re-enter Matty with a second basket. ‘ Well, Matty ?” “It’s Jane Moroney, wi’ a little kitling for you, sir, to help to banish the mice.” yy ‘Oh, indeed ; very kind of her. My best thanks, and let it go in _ the yard.” ECOMICOOOKS. CO i