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REDPATIVS ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.
THE LORD OP DUNDALTON.
AN IRISH STORY OF TO-DAY.
BY THOMAS SHERLOOK,
VII.—Continued
HEIR foremost ranks and tallest men saw the catastrophe
that hid happened at the doorway, and, with
Trish wit, divining its cause, xent up a hoarse cheer of delight.
The police were bew and the resident magistrate
seratdhed his femple | m perplexity. He was outside the line
of police, and kne t what to make of the evident commo-
tion near the d door.
The fallen men, all but one, scrambled to their feet, most
of them possessed of a dim notion that something in the na-
tare of an earthquake shock had occurred. urke’s tems
“Yerra, Mister Dan, what happened you?”
“oPwas takin’ a dive head foremost he wi
“Worn’t you an omadhawn to do that, sir, ran’ the water 50
on’y his good nature. Sure the dacent gintleman
ante to give Mickey Doolin a job on a ne
t be downhearted, sir; } the rain ’ll wash off the mud
afore. you! re hal!
“Wouldn’t he ‘ook nice at a ball now, axin’ Miss Tierney
up to dance?” (The name of the lady mentioned had often
been coupled i in local gossip with Mr. Burke’s.)
ries such as these rose fro: zen different quarters.
Each ery vet “followed by # roar of laughter from the crowd.
heads, they
could yet keevly enjoy the discomSture of the chief agent in
its execution. Misery and they had been so long acquainted,
and hope was now 60 utterly Gead within them, that they
_could imag ss gleefully as little children to whom care is @
thing upkno
oD n ye! a0 muttered the choleric sheriff between his
teeth, as he turned to investigate the cause of his overthrow,
“yet la ugh at the wrong side o! f your mouths before this day
is over.” ‘Then to his chief bailiff, who was staring about in
undisguised astonishment, he ‘addressed himself : .
“What was it, Mick ?’
‘oTwas Jim here, sir, that fell
kem down wnd the rain from the clouds above.
sir, ne poor fellow's not able to get up. Look at this temple,
sir. Be the holy post some wan must ha’ hot him wad a brick
or a n atchet or somethin’
Asa matter of fact, Jim's head had come in contact with a
crowbar in the bands of one of those whom his sudden exit
from the cabin had knocked down, and he lay stunned and
bleeding where he himself had fallen.
Mr. Burke jumped toa conclusion not very far from the
He conceived that the young man within must have
smitten the bailiff with some heavy weapon; and, fis temper
now aflame, he cried out to the constabulary ;
‘* Arrest that murderer inside!”
An ofticer immediately detailed two of the constabulary to
make the arrest.
While these events were happening without the cabin, an-
other scene was being enacted within. When Manria ‘uo-
mey saw the bailiff so summarily dlsappenr through the open-
ing, her fears for her promised hi ‘usband were aroused, and
wringing b ber hands, she waile«
"OC why 7 did you do that? They'll take you now
an’ pat you in prison.”
“I don't care,” he returned, doggedly, stooping for the
fork he had thrown out of his hand. “Tit die here like a
man afore I'll let her be fonened” He jerked his head
towards the pallet as he spok en he continued between
his teeth, as he set the handle of the fork firmly on the ground,
and rested his fingers between its bright, sharp, formidable-
looking prongs. ‘The first that Jays ‘a finger on her I'll
skiver him! ‘hat’s enough!”
Maternal love lent strength to Mrs. Dennehy.
sistance she suddenly sat 0
“Con, jewel!” she faintly implored, ‘don’t be foolish, mo
bouchal brah | @ things paceable an’ quiet, mo vourncen
adhas nochree | an’ don’t get yourself into trouble.”
“Ay” he exclaimed, bitterly, ‘‘ we've been paceable an’
quiet this many's the lo! ong aay, an’ what good did our pace an’
quietness do for us? nn’ quietness inagh/ It is all on
our side though, an’ little ‘enough 0 o’ that same they let us
have. Pace an’ quietness!” he repeated, with an air of dis-
t; “why, it’s talk like that that has put the sowls of
women in the breasts o’ the min of Ireland, that used to have
some sperit long ago.”
He stood erect, one hand lightly resting on the upright
fork, the other banging carelessly by his side. Despite his
great leanness, gin large compact frame, suggestive of
both strength and agility, borrowed an air of power, and even
of majesty, from the puiade he had unconsciously ses Hae
‘The two women who had loved him could not help admi
in their secret hearts, not only his person but his manly coun
age, although they hastened, to calm him with sundry ex-
clamations of ‘‘ Con jewel! Con darlin’! O, Con! For God's
sake, Con! For my sake, Con, take care!”
And in the midst of these appeals the two constabulary men
appointed for the purpose entered the cabin to arrest the
young, many and after them came a few of the sheriff's special
followin
Con Beonehy retreated to the corner, and stood by his
mother's 8 bedsi
“«T give ye it warnin’,” he said, in cool, deliberate tones,
as he Brought Me apie down horizontally in front of
«whoever offers to stir my mother to-day, to take her ont te
be Killed by the storm, I'll ran him through, so heip me,
in among us like as if he
Without as-
aN two constabulary men paused. They knew the man
was in earnest, and they had no wish to risk their lives.
“ Shoot the scoundrel—run himself {hrongh 1” shrieked the
resident shapistrate. who had come to the a peer in.
policemen slowly lowered their rides from their shonl-
ders, in obedience to the peremptory order. Mauria Taomey
flung herself in front of Con Dennehy, exclaiming: ‘ You
must sheet me first!”
‘Cut him down!” roared the magistrate from the doorway.
Mrs. Dennehy staggered to her feet, and tottered in front
f Mant
° “Tt a life must be taken,” she feebly said, “let it be my
worthless one; but oh! spare my darlin’ boy
ey don’t ye shoot, ye scoundrels?” again roared the
magistrate.
One of the constabulary roughly pushed the old woman
with his Jeft hand. She tottered a few steps away, b
guickly pressed back to her former position in front. It all
8
.
the fleshy part of f the shoulder of of the polices who had 5
savagely shoved the feeble old w a
agony, and dragging himself backwards off the fork, turned
and fled ontside,
“Fire on him, Callen, fire!” shrieked the constabulary offi-
cer in command, from the doorway.
‘There was a flash, a report, and Mrs, Denneby fell in a
heap in front of Mauria Tuomey.
The girl flung herself on her knees, and lifted the grey,
heipless head. She looked into the eyes that would never see
more—they were glassy and rigi
“6 Murderer!” Mauria "Taomey ‘hoarsely shrieked, ‘‘ you've
killed her!”
The constabulary man slunk back, abashed and saddened.
Con Dennehy stooped, and put his hand over his mother’s
Beart. ‘There was no movement. It was as still as the grave
itself.
ue flung away the hayfork, and, in despairing accents,
cried:
“Shoot me, or do what ye like wud me. All's one to me
now.”
He knelt down beside the body, and passionately kissed the
motionless li
“Mother darlin’ !” he cried tears streaming down his lean
cheeks, ‘‘ forgive your own Poor hoy for getting you killed—
thougt, p Il never Torgive myself
fted the Poor remains tenderly on to the pallet, and
stood gazing down on them with stony eyes. And while be
stood there ‘nuhoeding aught that was gore forward, two of
the constabulary crept him in handeutfs
before he could dream of resistance, over n if he had a mind
to offer it. But, in truth, at that moment, he cared not what
might happen to him.
‘as taken outside, where the hurricane still raged, and
the sleety rain still came in frenzied gusts. Ali was confu-
sion, The constabulary lines had been broken, aud most of
the men of the force were scattered among the crowd, which
hustled them hither and thither with small respect for them-
selves or their armament.
been shot had got abroad among
position for revenge on the constabulary hi
If anyone had undertaken fo give a word of command, they
would have been savagely set
iceman was, could any e| Chestive resistance have been offered,
Neither rifle nor bayonet could have been brought into use.
The resident magistrate,
the sub-sheriff
victims. The unwonted civility or the constabulary to the
crowd was, as one of the Dandalton tenantry afterwards ex-
pressed it, ‘‘an admiration.”
It was while a si rious, crisis was thus impending that Char-
ley Gerty made his way to the sub-sherifl’s si
“Mr, Burke,” the reporter said, in his toest, persuasive
tones, ‘if I might be permitted to offer a suggestion I would
say you could not get back to Ballymacevoy a moment too
soon. Matters here are looking decidedly unpleasant for your
safety.”
“T wish we were back,” Mr. Burke said, with a troubled
countenance,
“Do you announce that there will be no evictions on this
property, and all will probably be well?” Charley continued.
I have the privilege,” he went on, loftily, ‘‘of Mr. Garrett
Dalton’s acquaintance; and the moment I get into the town I
will telegraph to him what has happened
—nay, I may say I am certain—that he will, immediately tele-
graph to have those evictions stopped. As for the shooting
of the poor old woman——”
Oh!” interry: rupted Mr. Burke, with something of an air
of vallet, “‘it isu’t quite so bad as all that. There is no bullet
wound on her body—it was the shock that killed her; she
probably’ had Sisease of the hea:
‘Well, that’s a point in your ‘favor, ’ said Charley; ‘and
Td advise you how to address the crowd at once; tell them
that she died of | heart disease, and, above all, that, there will
be no evictions.
The Tne lifted up his strong voice, gad i in a few terse
clear sentences spoke as the reporter had advised. His words
had the immediate effect of clearing away thi he dangerous half
of the ‘popular excitement; and, while the time appeared fav-
rable, the Constabulary officers got their men together, Mr.
Barke and the resident magistrate, who, since the ap-
pearance of peril, had been extraordinarily silent, climbed up
sheriff's car with remarkable agility for his age. The
Shots party was soon in motion for Ballym: mneeyoy, leaving the
unevicted tenantry of Dundalton and the body of Mrs, Den-
nehy behind. The son of the dead woman, howeve r, had to
trust to the kindness of the neighbors for decent sepulture for
her remains, since he himself had been Srmouggled, a hand-
cuffed prisoner, into the
and obliged to tru
onNtier @ wearisome tramp of over two hours the battalion of
eviction drew up once more in front of the sub-sherif’ 's house ;
all, no matter how well wrapped up, shivering with cold and
wet, and each in the bottom of his in,
lord of Dundalton and his p oveetinge, While the others dis-
persed to their respective fabitations, Charley Gerty hastened
to the telegraph-oftice to send a message to the lone house in
the city, potore retiring his hotel for the dryness and
warm! rath which he sadly stood in n
Garra' Dalton, since “he coming come of his danghter,
was @ cha janged man. Natural! @ warm and affec-
tionate disposition, he lavished on her the love so long re-
pressed, and by an affecting paternal solicitude strove to atone
‘or the fatal mistake which had embittered sixteen years of
he life. His nature was impulse; but his impulses | were like
the ladies’ eyes, which Moore has sung, some being ‘so hol:
they would ‘‘lead to Heaven,” while some would Jead Re
other way.” When he read Charley Gerty’s telegram ke was
inexpressibly shocked. his new found happiness he had
completely forgotten all about the evictions he had ordered;
and being suddenly put face to face with the results of his
harsh edict, in the death of an old woman and the arrest of
her son on a serious charge, he reproached himself bitterly.
He lost not a moment in telegraping both to Charley and the
sheriff his peremptory desire to have the process cancelled ;
[November 16, 1889
and in this way the misfortune which fell on one family of
the Dundalton tenantry became the good fortune of all the
ons
the reporter’ 's mind being now at ease regarding the fate of
the, poor people, he wrote for his paper a graphic description
of the day’s proceedings, which duly appeared next morning
under the heading, ‘Evictions in the West—Terrible Trag-
0 edy.” The correspondents of the landlord organs had heard
t something of what had occurred; and they too telegraphed up
their reports, which were headed ‘Desperate Outrage in the
West,” and which were concerned chiefly with the laceration
of the policeman’s shoulder by the hay fork of Con Dennehy.
An inquest was held on the body of Mrs. Dennehy, at
which the medical evideuce went to prove that the action of
her heart had been weak from failing health and insuficient
‘e!
ad aimed above their heads. A verdict in ac-
sordance with ths evidence was returned by the coroner's
te may be as well to state here that Gon Dennehy was
ut on trial at the next assizes on a charge of resisting the
execution of the law, assaulting an officer thereof—-to wit, the
bailiff—and grievously wounding 9 sub-constable engaged i in
the performance of his duty. The jury found him guilty;
ut, taking ail the circumstances of the case into consideration,.
they added a strong reccommend to mercy: The judge, in
sentencing the prisoner, said he had given due wee to the
recommendation of the jury; but the offence was of the most
aggravated nature, and in the interests of justice, and to teach
respect for the law to a lawless population, the sentence could
not be a light one. Therefore the convict was condemned to
twelve months’ imprisonment with hard labor from the date
of bis arrest.
So it came to pass that the dreadful day of the rainstorm—
the day set apart for the eviction of Garratt Dalton’s tenantry
—went away without leaving very many perceptible ghanges
behind it, “True, there were a great number of coughs
colds in consequence of that day: also ‘there was a new ‘onde
grave in the Dundalton church-yard; also there was a fireless
hearth in the cabin of the Denneby’s ; also there was au ad-
ditional cell filled in the jail of Ballymacevoy ; and, lastly,
there was once a light-limbed and light-hearted young girl
who now went about he daily duties with a languid step, who
was never seen to smile, and whose nawe was Mauria ‘Tuomy.
‘That was all. And Garratt Dalton’s happiness grew and
increased.--To be continue
NORA BROWNLEE.
(For Redpath's Mustrated Weekly.
Oh, where are you going, sweet Nora Brownlee,
By the river side tripping so gayly along
um.
The sweet briars that blossom, the roses that bloom
‘d blush in the sun by your own cottage door,
Are re dainty and fair, yield as sweet a per!
the wild ones that grow on the en of the Nore.
ani See, in the shi shade where young Connor reclines,
With a book in his band, "neath the sycamore tree ;
Ab! it is not to read that he comes thus betimes,
know by your blushes, sweet Nora Brownlee!
Ah! youth has its sunshine. it its j
, its joy and its blis
A When the heartis first prightened with love's iy glow,
nd mine, too, has throbbed to a fond lover's kis:
Of those bright, sunny di
ly days once so hay and ‘tree;
But Ob, may your joys be more lasting thab ain e—
od evening ; God bless you, sweet Nora Brownlee!
ILLIAM COLLINS.
Frank Bellew, —
We give two caricatures this week from the
gifted pencil of
Frank Bellew, a man who has never prostituted his ability. to
the service of wealth against toil. toon on the six-
teenth page is from his new comic paper, The Ci
misrepresent their aim:
The
artoon on cat ”
from the Decne rior sthotio ipepneratic Furnishings” is
an excellent caricature of the pre
ng se pooner the angular and uncomely, of which Oscar Wilde
‘The New Dean of Windsor,
‘The Very Rev. George Henry Co:
} Windsor in succession | & the Tate Very ‘Ren di eprint Gwe i
lesley, was born about the year 1823, and ‘hae ” Gacnted at
in 1851, He was ad-
con in 1846 by the Bishop of Dowe ‘nd Connor, and was 2d-
mitted into priest’ i it ii
flowing oa ‘s iat the Bishop of Lincolu in the
Thomas's Chapel, Newport; mnedshie of St. Jude’s, Southsea ;
s res, and has hi fe
Isle of Wight, since 1852, "He wns: Houome
ary to the Queen. from 1872 to 1874, whea
Archdeaconry of the Isle of Wii
ight. The
author of “ Ordination, Hospital. fend other Sermons," and of
a volume of “+S i
—London IMustrated Nove publ shed by command of the Queen.”
_[It is worthy of note thy
ant Dean, slur over the