LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXI, Issue 1651, 5 June 1879, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE O’MORE.

An Irish Foster-Brother’s Devotion.

The Major laid down bis book. ‘ These Irish writers,’ he said, ‘have much to say of the relation between foster brothers. It is a feature of domestic life almost unknown in this country, hut I saw a curious instance of it once. Did I ever tell you the story of ‘The O’More ?’

‘ No, no !’ We all drew our chairs closer to him, and ho began, nothing loth : ‘ As a boy I lived, you know, in a small town in West Virginia. Wo had no slaves and little money among us; but were bitterly pro-slavery, and were more arrogant in our potty notions cf aristocracy than tho

great slave owners of the eastern part of tho State. When I was about fourteen, I met one day at the ga*o oi tho front yard a ragged, red-headed lad of my own age. ‘ Is it a b’y to carry coal, or dig. or droive the carriage, ye’d be wantin’ the day, zuij.” ho asked, with a laugh and a bow. ‘Now, I was not often called “sir,” or addressed hat in hand, and of course I was conciliated at once. My father wanted a boy, and I urged him to take this one. He was pleased with his honest ugly face. * What is your name ?’ ho asked,

* “ Michael, zur.’ ‘I took Michael out to show him tho coslbir t, pump, and his room over tho stable. As 1 turned to leave him I said, “Haveyou only one name ?” “His face grow red as his hair. ‘ “I’m Tho O’Mora, zur.” ‘“What?” I burst into a shout of laughter; but Michael stood grave and anxious.

‘ “ I’m poor, zar, and I worked my way acras from tho old country. But my grandfather was the head of the family ; he’s dead, an’ go’s my father, I’m The O’More.” ‘ “ I suppose your grandfather, like yourself, lived in a mud hut and ate potatoes tho year round ?” * “ No, zur ; he had a big house and took tay wid the Queen every week,” lied my protege, with perfect calmness. “ I’m the first of the name as ever went out to sarvije.”

‘ “ And what brought you to it ? Why did you leave Ireland ?” “‘I followed my foster-brother, zur.” * The answer puzzled me, and I asked no further questions, and soon forgot Mike and his family in the anxiety of preparing for a Christmas party which my mother was to give me, and which was to be of unusual brilliancy and pretension. That evening she said to me, “ I have been to call on the family who have bought the Scroope property. Their name is Leveridge. There is but one son, a boy of fifteen, and I invited him for Christmas Eve.”

1 Master Leveridge was the first to arrive on the momentous evening. His stepmother came with him. She was a high-featured, sharp-eyed woman, with tho peculiar accent of tho educated classes from Dublin.

‘ “ A children’s party is a new thing to Arthur, ’ she said. “Wo keep our boys and girls in the nursery longer than you do ; but it will do him good. When I married Mr Leveridge I found the boy had no companions but the children of his fostermother, a low creature living in a hovel on the estate. I was glad for his sake when we came to this country and the connection was broken off. That kind of people are, as a rule, irreclaimably vicious.” ‘ ido not find them so,” said my gentle mother. “ Many of my truest friends are among the very poor-” * “ Arthur Leveridge in the meantime was talking with my sister, when a wild whoop rung through the room, and Mike rushed into it. a scuttle of coal in his hand. “‘Faith, Masther Arty, is it yetself? I followed ye to Baltimore, an’ they towld me it was here I’d find ye!’ holding Arthur’s gloved bands, kissing and sobbing over them, while tbocoa's were scattered over the floor.

* Arthur was a delicate, girlish-looking lad. He pulled his hand back in a rage of shame, and pushed the boy savagely away.

* “ How dare you come here ?” he cried. 1 4 His mother swept across the room to his side. Mike cowed humbly when he saw her.

‘ “ Begone, ” she said, * you insolent wretch! Followed us here, indeed I ‘Judge Borrox,’ turning to my father, this boy must be discharged from your service ; he must leave the town!’

‘ Gently, gently, madam,’ said my father. ‘We do not deal in that fashion in this country. Mike is neither a vagrant nor a thief, but he has no business here. Leave the room, sir; take your coals and your affection where they are wanted!’

‘ There was a flash in my father’s eye which showed on which side his sympathies lay. The story of the foster-brothers became the town gossip for a week. Everybody paid court to tho Leveridgrs, but pitied poor Mike. After a month I found that Mike was out every night scouring the streets with Arthur Young Leveridge was ready for all sorts of misohief, from ringing door bells to breaking windows; but he was terribly afraid of being found out ’

•Public justice was sharp and swift in the town. It had some features, too, peculiar to pro-slavery districts. The Board of Magistrates were the seven oldest and wealthiest land-holders. They appointed their own successors on retiring • they punished offenders by fines or by putting them on the chain-gang, a body of men who worked on the street, chained by one foot to a great iron ball.

* One night as I was coming home from a school concert I saw a heap of wood at the foot of the statue of Calhoun on the square. Now this was cnly an ordinary figure, coarse enough, no doubt, but it was our only statue, and the town was proud of it accordingly. Coming closer, I saw tho figures of two boys, one on the top of the heap of wood, busily tying a rope around Calhoun’s waist, tho other below, begging him apparently to desist. Ah, Masther Arty, it’s hung ye’ll be, an’ no less !’ I heard in a frightened whisper from Mike, ‘ “ Get away, there ! Stand back !’

‘ Arthur leaped down and gave the rope a vigorous pull Down came the figure, and, from the sound, I knew that some part of it had been fractured. The boys stood motionless.

‘ “ I didn’t think it would break !” gasped Arthur.

There was a sound of approaching footsteps. * Run, run !’ Mike cried, dragging Arthur down tbe square. * It’s the constable !’ * But they were too late. When Shock, the one policeman, saw the injury done to this glory of art, his teeth actually chattered. He started after the retreating boys, and after a tough case, caught Arthur, and Mike at once surrendered also.

‘A month in the chain gang’ll not pay you off for this, you young vipers!’ Michael turned on him furiously. ‘ Let Masther Arty go! It was I did it He wor persuadin’ mo to stop; wern’t you, Masther Arty ?’ * Arthur hesitated, looking like a beaten hound.

‘ I did try to stop him,’ he said in a feeble voice.

* I hurried up. Mike’s keen Irish wit read my purpose in my face. Ho shook off Shock’s hold, leaped at me, took mo by the shoulder, and said, in a fierce whisper: ‘“lf yon tell, I’ll kill you ! I allays tuk his batin’s fur him.’ ‘ “ I’m not afraid of you.f JBut you can take your ‘batin ’ if you chooce.” ‘ Shook hauled them both away. The next morning they were brought before the magistrates. Mike told his story, and Arthur sustained him in it. Arthur was discharged, with compliments on his kindness to the poor wretch. ‘ That afternoon, as soon as I was clear of schofi, I hunted up tho chain gang. There was Mike at the end, breaVing st >ne, tho chain rattling with every turn. He had taken off’ his jacket and covered the ball with it. His eyes were swollen with crying, but when he saw mo, ho burst into a miserable chuckle. * That is what The O’Mora has come too !’ he said.

‘ When I met Leveridge, I told him he was a sneak, a hound, &c. Then I went to the magistrates with my story, but to my amazement, they pooh-poohed me away. It was my first insight into the weight of caste

' Eight years after that, tfci war broke out, Mike enlisted in the Southern army. Arthur became paymaster in the Northern regiment. You would not find that young man where any fighting was called for! When tho army was in the Shenandoah Valley, Levtridgo, it appears, received a secret offer of a high position on the Confederate side, provided ho ■would betray our corps to the enemy. Tho scoundrel consented By some chance Mike discovered the transaction. Levoridge left tho camp and rode down to the river-side to meet the messenger from tho Conledeiato army, to whom ho was to give tho maps, statement of the condition, numbers, &c , of the Union troeps. He had the papers on his person. It was late in tho afternoon when tho Confederate messenger approached, and gave him the signal agreed upon. Leveridgo handed him tho packet, when, to his astonishment, the man tore it in half and flung it in the river.

‘ “ It’s thrue, then. It’s an informer yo’d be ! I heard talk of it in tho Colonel’s tint

while I was kapin’ guard, an I’d not bslave it!”

‘‘•yon ruffian! Am I never to have done with you ?" ‘ Mike was a powerful Irishman, and every nervo was tense with passion. He caught Arthur by the collar, a ni literally shook him. ‘“You shall not do it I The man that sucked the breast of my mother shall never turn informer! I've saved you many a time, hut I never saved you from anything loike this.”

‘Ho turned him toward thn Union picketlino, then hurled him from him.

‘ “ There go! and, fur God’s sake, ho a man, Masther Arty I” ‘ Levridge panted out an oath. ‘ “It was your own side I was going to help you hound 1” *“W hat’s sides tome? An informer! O holy Virgin !” ‘ The man stalked away down the river bank. Ihe boat lay hidden in which he had crossed. t He get into- it and paddled over.’

The Major stopped in his narrative. ‘Well, goon, go on,” we said, ‘What became of him ?’

‘ Tho picket guard saw him as he reached the open space where the moon shone clearly. There was a’sharp ring of a bullet. The poor fellow sprang convulsively forward, reeled and fell, and the waters closed over him for ever.’

‘ And Leveridge?’ 1 Re is living by his wits, In California—a mean, and, consequently, a miserable man.’