Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 106 — page 3: what you’re looking at

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

resent were armed with that weapon peculiar td the daughters of the green isle when on the war-path, since the dark ages—a good stout stocking with a stone in the toe. Dooney made one last attempt. “Will you clear the way and l’ave me get at the dure to do me my | like a gintleman, or shall I be afther killin’ a dozen of yees?” ‘¢ Be the Twelve Pins of Galway, Mister Mac- Darrow, ye had better be afther pickin’ out yer tombstone an’ be givin’ instructions to yer heirs if that is the game ye’re afther tryin’!” cried the foremost man in the throng, twirling his stick viciously in the air. ‘For the last time, will ye clear the way?” the process-server demanded. ‘*No, no-kill ’em, bad ’cess to ’em! kill the dirthy blaggards!” arose in a chorus on the air A contest seemed certain when a new-comer appeared upon the scene, his was the parish priest of Ballinahinch, old Father Malone, mounted on a stout cob, which he had evidently ridden at the top of its speed, as the animal was quite blown. The father was universally liked, and being not only a pious and learned scholar, but a man of great courage and a strong will, he had a tremendous amount of influence over the peo- le. ¥ Father Malone rode his horse right in be- tween the peasants and the officers of the law, so as to prevent a collision, “ Hould off your hands, me children!” he cried; ‘‘don’t be timpted by this vile scoundrel here to break the law!” and he shook his finger at Dooney, who retreated a step, in sullen rage. ‘‘Remimber that this man, no matter how big a blaggard he is, has law on his side, and ye mustn’t fight the law, for ye can’t!” CHAPTER IIL THE HEIRESS OF KILKERRAN. Tx priest was a thorough Irishman, in every sense of the word—a jolly, well-meaning man, and yet gifted with a great deal of discretion and avery large amount of that valuable com- modity which is called common sense. He despised the process-server and all his ng; but when he had heard that morning that the peasantry intended to resist the serv- ing of the process, he at once took horse and hurried to the scene for he knew that a forcible resistance to the officers of the law would be productive of much harm, The priest had arrived in the nick of time, for a minute more a fight would surely have be- n. ar Min and women, just think for a moment what ye are about!” the father continued. **This man, dirthy blaggard as he is, represints the Jaw; whin ye strike him it is the govern- ment ye strike, an’ that is what they want. They want another chance to bring the military down upon us; they want another chance to say to the world, ‘ See these Irish rebels lightin’ the torch of war!’ they want a chance to hang a few more of our poor boys, or to shut thim up in their dark prisons or to drive thim across the say. Thank God that there is a land where they can go and where they are welkim! But, this day Isay to you, min and women, we are not rebels, although we have suffered enough to make any human flesh under the sun turn and fight; but we are patient—we have always been patient; we have suffered, we hive starved; we have ‘crepted into our dark gra 3 and died,’ an’ made no sign. The time will come whin the men who rule us will be forced by the opinion of the world to do us justice, an’ until then, no violence, mind ye! Stand away from the dure and l’ave this man do his dirthy work. He knows no better; it isn’t in him to be aman! When St. Patrick banished the snakes from Ireland, Old Nick tried to make up for it by turning some min into cr’atures so like snakes that dacent folks’ flesh crawls at their sight, and that manes you, Mr. Process-server !” ‘A man must live,” MacDarrow growled; he feared the priest, and always avoided an alter- cation with him if possible. ‘‘ Must live!” cried the father, in lofty scorn. ** No, sur, I beg to differ with you; in your case I see no necessity for it, at all!” ‘‘ Father Malone, it’s a shame, so it is, a burn- in’ shame, that he should serve the notice on the poor widdy!” cried one of the men in the crowd. ‘‘Can’t we crack his head just this once?” ‘‘Upon me word, ye’ll crack the law if ye do!” the priest answered, good-naturedly. ‘‘ No, no, byes; take my advice and l’ave hina alone —l’ave him to the contimpt he merits. And don’t fear for the widdy; she came to my house this mornin’; she’s not within, and there is mighty little there for these jackals of the law to seize upon. The widdy will not suffer at prisent, I'll go bail for that. Give me your words now that ye’ll not interfere with this scuff of the world and thin I'll go about my business.” The clatter of a horse’s hoofs at this moment attracted the attention of the throng. All turned to see who was approaching, and great was the surprise when the rider was dit Shamus O’Brien, re ee covered to be pretty Maggie Moore, the heir- ess of Killkerran! She came up in a rapid gallop and never did the girl look more beautiful, for the exercise had filled ber cheeks full of roses and the bright pink, blended with the pearly whiteness of the almost perfect complexion, formed a most charming contrast. A perfect type of Irish beauty was the heir- ess Of Moore. Her hair was a dark blue- black in hue, rich, silk-like and wonderfull abundant. Like unto Godiva’s, Coventry’s f lady, it was almost abundant enough to serve asamantle, The eyes were dark, blue at times, almost black at others; the face round, pure Greek in its outlines and exquisitely cut; her figure was of medium hight and utifully proportioned. Little wonder Connemara said that she had never owned a fairer daughter. The lady rode at once up to the —— ‘* What is the matter, Father Malone?” she exclaimed. ‘‘ Has aught happened to widow O’Brien?’ and a half-conscious blush crimsoned the white forehead of the girl as she uttered the name that report said had once been so dear to her. ‘‘It is an eviction, Miss Moore,” the priest answered, ‘“‘and the good people here being somewhat excited were thinking of actin hastily, but I trust I have persuaded them to noone a wiser course, although I know that it is hard that a dacent body like the widdy O’Brien should be turned out of her little cabin, like a dog thrust out to die.” ** And why is she turned out?” asked the girl, amazed, ** A trifle of rint owin’, that is all.” ‘*How much, and who is entitled to receive it?’ Miss Moore asked. ‘This man,” and the se father pointed to MacDarrow, who cringed obsequiously after the manner of his trade. ‘* How much is the sum?” she demanded. “Oh,a trifle,” miss, the process-server replied ; “five pounds,’ ‘*Five pounds! and you would turn the poor old woman out of doors because she owes five unds?”’ Miss Moore asked, in astonishment. ‘* It’s not me; l’m only doin’ me dooty. Shure! if itis only one 9 mer an’ they cannot pay it, the law says tha they must go.” ‘Tt isa cruel law!” the exclaimed, indig- nantly. She had been so long absent from Ireland that she had very little knowledge of how badly things had been going on lately. The tongue of the worthy priest fairly ached to say that private malice as well as the non- payment of the sum owed was at the bottom of the matter, but oe the peculiar way in which the girl was mixed up in the affair, he thought it best to refrain; so he contented him- self by saying: “The law is a hard one when enforced in such a manner asit has been py it is not the fault of these r people. In the first place the crops have failed for two years now in suc- cession, and times have been so bad that the few pigs they had for sale had to be almost given away, and the pig used to be the great rent-payer, ye know.’ “Oh, it is a terrible state of affairs!” Miss Moore cried, warmly, ‘‘and we that are so fa- vored by Heaven as to be above the reach of want must do all in our power to help those upon whom the hand of affliction has fallen so heavily. J will pay this five pounds!” “*God bless you, me child!” cried the old priest, tears springing into his eyes at the un- expected offer; ‘ Ps are a true Irish girl, Maggie Moore, and the prayers of this r Ys y will smooth the way for ye, one of these 8. a I beg your pardon, miss,” said MacDarrow, with cringing civility. ‘‘ Do ye happen to have the five pound wid ye now?” “No, but my word is good for it!” replied the heiress, drawing herself up proudly. “*’Yis, or for a thousand times five pound, ye impident varlet!” exclaimed the priest, an- of beg your on, miss, and yours, too, our riverence; I didn’t mean the laste taste of but, accordin’ to law, ye know, I must go ahead wid ime dooty if the money is not paid to me on the spot.” at Oh, that makes no difference!” the priest said. ‘It is the notice which, according to law, he must fix on the dure,” he explained’ to Miss Moore. “It is a formality, that is all.” ‘Come to O’Neal castle to-day or to-morrow, or when you please, and the money will be id,” the lady said, gathering up her reins to epart. ‘There’s a trifle of costs, if a please,” re- marked the process-server, humbly, **The bill will be whatever it is,” Miss Moore replied, haug wy: Although one of the sweetest-tempered girls in the world, there was ig veges about the process-server that excited in her a feeling of contempt, and she was not one used to disguise her feelings, **Don’t mind him, miss; he cannot help it—it ‘s his nature; shure! he was born that way!” the wiest exclaimed, scornfully, 3 MacDarrow grinned and showed his teeth, but there was more malice than merriment in the smile. “And, Father Malone, if you will have the kindness to call upon me at your earliest con- venience, we will try to hit upon some means to aid the poor people of the parish who are likely to be pursued by this man and the cruel law he represents,” she said. ‘T shall be proud and happy, miss, to wait upon yees,” the priest replied, with a low bow. | Miss Moore returned the salutation, and; then rode away. } ‘“‘Where’s your manners, byes?” exclaimed Father Malone, reprovingly. ‘‘ Haven’t ye a cheer for the lady that comes to the front to at. the widdy?” e peasants took the hint at once and sent up a roaring eheer for Miss Moore, of Kill- kerran. ‘That’s right, and now I’m off; and, mark me words, byes, kape within the law; thin such vermin as process-servers won’t bring the sod- gers down onto ye!” And then away the priest rode, The excitement was apparently over, but there was a surprise in store for CHAPTER IV. AN IRISH AMAZON, THE process-server watched both the lad and the priest until they were out of sigh malicious anger shining in his little evil eyes. ** Bad ’cess to the sow! of me fut!” he mutter- ed, between his teeth, ‘“‘ but I will be even wid both of yees wan of these days.”” Then he turned his attention to the cabin. ** Now, gintlemen an’ ladies, by your l’ave,” he continued. ‘‘If you will have the kindn the politeness, and the civility to step out o me way and J’ave me fix me little notice to the fore-front of that dure, I’ll be as good as me word, afther all! I said that I would be afther puttin’ my notice on the dure, and that neither man nor divil should stop me. The lady has gone bail for the five pounds but I will put me notice on the dureall the same. Oh! I’m aman of me word; jist bear it in mind all of you! Fall back there an’ give me room!” The peasants sped he the command and Mac- Darrow gE the door with his notice in his hand, but as his foot pressed the threshold, the door opened suddenly, and a monstrous big raw-boned woman appeared in the doorway. “Take yerself out o’ that, ye dirthy blaggard! What do yees mane?” she cried, in the rich of brogues. All the lookers-on stared; the woman was a stranger to one and all. She was a very large woman, and evidently muscularly built. She was dressed very r, with an o!d shawl bound round her shaban A dirty @.p with an enormous frill ornamented her head, and from under the cap t chunks of coarse red hair strayed out. Her skin was tanned, until it looked like leather, and alto- ether she was about as ugly, and formidable- ooking a female as human eyes had ever rested upon. Then, too, in her muscular right hand she twirled as ‘‘ purty” a blackthorn stick as a man would wish to own, and from the way in which she handled the stick, a judge of that sort of thing would have been apt to think that the t was not solely for ornament. 6 most surprised man on the und was the process-server; with open mouth he stared at the female—a actin that excited her anger at once, ‘ The divil fly away wid ye, ye lantern-jawed villain! Who are yees a-starin’ at, wid ye two eyes stickin’ out of ye head like lobsters? Go ‘long wid ye! Ye make me blush! I’m a dacent woman, an’ if ye don’t get out of that I’ll give ye A) rap over the gob!” is WAS @ Virago, sure enough, and Doone retreated a step as she flourished the stick in close proximity to his nose. “* An’ who are ye, an’ whatare ye doin’ here?” Dooney asked, in wonder. “Go long wid ye! Do ye think I'd be afther wasting me breath in answerin’ yer impident questions?” she retorted. ‘An’ what do yeeg want here, yerself, ye murtherin’ thafe of the wet g in’ to put this noti th m go pu notice on the dure.” “*"Deed ye'll do no sich thing!” Bats HS ter crac er crackin’ head wid this bit of a sthick, do ye mind?” = Doanay. Jockes at 3 woman a moment in| wonder; then he quie ut the notice in his ket, and on ges his stick - iremnely wicked manner, — “Pll have to be afther dhrey yees a little Ss he epoke, and evidently Weenie hiner a as he spo evi for a conflict, 4 oe “Take care I don’t give yees a taste o’ som ofoes I get through oa ye,” the virago r- ‘Will ye come out of that dureway an’ l’ave me es me paper 5 he demanded, ili you ge to the divil an’ snake yourself, ye murtherin’ marauder?”’ she retorted. com ebooks -com