A Birthday Gift

It might have happenpd in London ! or it might not. If any one prefers to j localiza this story of true love at pool or Glasgow or any other British ! city where Irish do live, he or she is I quite welcome to do so. I am not going to vulgarizo a tender idyl by giving with the fidelity of a county conrt summons the precise town, village or other minute description of the scène where the poetic events to be now told took place. Mat Casey lodged with Tim Brennan, j who occupied a couple of rooms in a ' small house in a court off a passage in i an alley which branched out of a lañe j in a back street. "Sure you're a gintleman, for you're as good as the pig that ' pays his rint, ' ' Tim used to say to him, and Mat would reply, "True for yez, au it's meself that's proud to be that ! same." And then, if either happened j to have a shilling about him, they i would go to the Cobwebs iim and drink it. If in luck, they would perhaps have a flght or two in the course of the night. If things were depressed I and peoplewere low spiritedly peaceful, I they would in most cases have a fight between themselves and then fraternally pump on each other 's heads or repair their faces froni the same stock of sticking piaster. Mat was a traveling tinker, middle ' aged, jovial, ugly, a fine drinker, a good singer, and, as Tim said, "a dhivil of a poet. ' ' Tim was an odd job character - an auction porter and a speculator in small lots. Mat was a widower. Tim had an extensivo wife and a scattered family. ■ At the entrance to the court was a sort of half shop, half shed, with a big room behind and a small one above, where Widow Moloney lived and carried on her business, which consisted in the purchase and sale of anything froni an oíd bedstead to a coverless dictionary and from a broken candlestick to an indistinct oil painting. Her husband had been an attendant at sales and a broker in a humble way. After the inquest on him - now Bome 18 months ago - Mrs. Moloney coutinued the concern. She found it unnecessary to go to auctions, as Tim and others brought their purchases to her, and she had a tolerably ready means of buying and selling, not merely to add from her neighbors, but also, being well known, among the iuhabitants generally in a small way. She was about 40 and weighed 18 stone. A big shawl was always crossed over her opulent bosoni and knottud behind. She had a bright eye, a ready tongue, a heavy fist and a strong head. Mat was deeply enamored of this gentle lady. Of course Tim was in his confidence, and many an untruthful word in praiseof Mat did he drop, as if by accident, in her hearing, and many an unveracious account of his broken heartedness on her account did he 1 ingly nárrate, with the addition of his ' own private opinión that Mat was dying or would kill himself for love of her. Tim was as loyal a friend as a I ber though truthful knight of old. "Tim," said Mat on the eve of ow Moloney 's birthday, "I want yez to ! give her this birthday card from me. It's a great red heart, with a skewer sticking in it. That riprisints moine - ! the heart, I mane. The skewer" "It's an arrow, Mat - that's what ; they do be calling it. " "Well, Tim, au there's a good Irish sound about that same. They can 't do without us any way, you see. ' ' "Sorra a bit, an you want me to be I afther giving her that?" "Yes; I'voimproved it. I'vo made it ] stiff with red lead an put in a few dhrops, as if it was the blood of me heart that was flowing for her, an j she's so scornful of mo sufferings. " "It's illigant" said Tim, with great : admiration. "An see here, now. I've written some varses to her to the tune of 'O'Shaughnessy's Hat. ' Bedad, an they rowl as swately as a jig an as deludhering as the crayther. " He sang them over in his rich voice and delicious brogue, and Tim got excited and promised his most devoted aid. Then they went to the Cobwebs and in due course were violently ejected, had a tussle with some strangers about something of which they had no particular notion or recolleetion, lost each other and finally got home somehow, though separately. Next morning they arose with unclouded and unaching brows, anrl Tim started on his niission. Mat waited at the Cobwebs for his return. Ttm sat down on a cold doorstep and reflncted. "Take her adhirty, painted, twopenny piece of paper with a red lead heart on it. Bedad an begorra an I won't! 111 do better than that, or my name's not Tim Brennan. Mat's a decent bhoy an a dhivil of a poet, but widdies is practical. It takes the likes of nie to underEtand the likes of them. " Witliin 1 0 minutes after this soliloqr.y he was seated in Mrs. Moloney's disordered and nnventilated room. "There it is, Mrs Moloney, dear, an :t mnst go to the heart of yez to rade the hidden m'aning, " said he as he poiníed to a large, hcalthy looking pig's fry on the table and a bottle of whisky which was standing beside it. He had snppressed the paper missive as poor, artificial and inexpressive, and out of his devoted friendship and slender purse had bought the "phiok" and the spirits which he presented in Mat's name. "It's an emblim, honey, " continued he. "Here's his heart, in a manner of sp'aking, at your fate - on your dish, I mane. The liver shows that he can't live without yez; thelights, that you're the light of his eyes, an that he longs for yez with every breath, an the flare, that there'll be all the fat in the fire an the very dhivil to pay if ye're nnkind to him an refuse him. It's an imblim, my dear - a delicate poetical imblim, bedad!" "It's beautiful!" said Mrs. Moloney, profoundly touched, as she uncorked the bottle and filled up two large port glasses. Then she added: "An I'll cook it. Teil him to come tonight an help ate it. An come you, too, Tim, and Misthriss Brennan. ' ' So it was a!l understood. Tim had, likemostof his countrymen, the f eelings of a gentleman and the tact of a courtier. That was why he and his wife arrived designedly late, having sent a message that supper was uot to wait. Had they come sooner a slight incident might have been avoided, thougb possibly it all happened for the best. For, leaviug the tete-a-tete meal and the conversation.s to be imagined by the reader, the crurnplod rose leaf aróse in this way. Mat had lit his pipe and had asked the widow howshe liked the card and the verses. She laughed and replied that she didn't know about the verses, except those he had been talking for the last hour; bnt, as for the card, he onght to know, for he had eaten the half of it. Upon this, Mat had jumped off his chair and exclaimed: "Then it'a a dead man I am, au it's a wake 111 be afther atteuding, an not a wedding! I thought there was a quare taste about that piece of frizzled fat. " " What does the cratnre be m'aning at all?" cried she in surprise. "It's poisoned I am. That heart was all over red lead, ' ' said he, f alling back into his seat. "Poisoned, you black hearted villain?" screamed Mrs. Moloney. "Then take thatl" and she broke a jug on his head. It was at this point that the Brennana arrived. Tim promptly knocked Mat down, and then he naturally became curious to know what the ambiguity was about. "He's poisoned me!" said she between a shriek and a sob. Tim seized Mat and threw him on an incomplete but unmatched dinner service, part of Mrs. Moloney's stock, which stood in a corner on the floor. The widow, hearing the crash, smashed a chair on Tim 's back, whereupon Mrs. Breiman took her by the hair, and the two women feil into some miscellaneous lots in another corner. Then the neighbors came in and took indiscriminate sides, and rnatters generally hummed for a short time. Eventually Tim got an inkling of the difficulty, told them to be quiet and narrated all the eircumstances, to the great relief, joy and amusement of all the parties. A pailful of water and a yard or two of stickiug piaster, with a few pins for the women, quickly set things smooth and smiling. Mrs. Moloney made them all welcome, and soon liberal supplieg of whisky, porter and tobáceo were formulated. Additional caadles were lit, illuminating fitfully the front shop, whose contents seemed the embodiment of the confused thoiights of the guests - tables stacked with their legs in the air, cane chairs hanging on the walls, blank gaseliers suspended f rom the ceiling, while a lighted lamp stood on the floor to prevent stumbling into the business portion of the establishment, and all went merrily. Mrs. Moloney for one brief ecstatic moment sat on Mat 's knee, but they wero severally picked up and revived, though the chair was pulverized, and Mat sang the "varses" which Tim had produced from his pocket along with tho card. Tim had applauded, wept and gone -to sleep in the middle of the song, but the approval which greeted its conclusión, composed as it was of shouts, shrieks, knockings, tears and a free fight in tho southeastern corner, effentually woke him. Somehow after a confused interval of health driuking, recrimination and enibraciugs the party found itself adjourned. Mat and the widow are to be married so soou as the necessary tormalities can be arranged.