How Tim Grady knew he was a Millionaire

New Zealand Tablet, 18 December 1913, Page 4 (Supplement)

How Tim Grady knew he was a Millionaire

Another Christmas Eve and Tim Grady was not yet a millionaire—-but Tim was not in despair, far from it; his expectations were as great as ever, although years were whitening his locks and his wife’s temper was deteriorating— at least so thought Tim. Molly, his wife, was entirely practical, whereas he was theoretical. Molly believed that a happy life was one full of work and honest effort. Tim believed that a happy life was the life of a millionaire—no work, all enjoyment. The conse-

quence was, now and then family relations were somewhat strained. However, the end of every domestic encounter found Tim on the losing side; he seemed utterly unable to sustain the incisive sarcasm of Molly’s tongue, hence, when a storm was coming on, Tim beat j a hasty retreat, but never gave up his great expectation I of becoming a millionaire. Molly was never so eloquent as when she was discoursing, in her own inimitable way, on Tim’s prospect of fulfilling his expectations. It was Christmas Eve, and Molly had been working hard from morning until evening, tidying up and deco- | rating for the next day. Fatigued by the day’s toil, she had gladly gone to rest early in the night. Tim sat alone by the fireside. A few embers still were smouldering, and the place was in darkness, save for the light thrown into the room by the moon, which

light was rendered very dull by the snow falling outside. Tim now and then gazed up at the window, and could see the flakes of snow eddying past, some alighting on the window panes and making fantastic forms in white-robed outlines. ‘ 1 wonder when will the snow cease falling/ said Tim. ! It must be coming near the time to start, and I must not miss this chance. Something tells me I will be lucky this time. If I catch the leprachaun it will put a stop to Molly’s talk.’ About half a mile from Tim Grady’s farmhouse there was a circular wood, called by the neighbors ! A

of red velvet, and could easily be distinguished from any of the rest of the fairies. He was scarcely a foot in height, and was as swift in his movement as forked lightning. No mannot even Tim —could hope to catch him by fair means; and most men considered it impossible to capture him by any other means, so cunning was he; but Tim was not one of these latter. Tim’s grandfather had given secret information to him that on every Christmas Eve, from the time the village clock began to chime the hour of twelve until it had chimed forth the twelfth stroke, every fairy stood

Forth.' In the centre of this wooded circle there was a large green sward. On this grassy place the fairies or good people held high revel on every Christmas Eve. Tim could not remember the Christmas Eve on which he had not wended his way to this spot in hopes of beholding the revellings of the fairies. Although his luck had always been bad, he yet retained the firm conviction that they did meet there, and that the man who could capture their leader was on the sure road to untold riches. The leader was dressed in a neat suit

motionless, and had no power to move unless touched by the hand of man. Tim’s plan was to steal up close to the fairies’ rendezvous and advance to the red leader. Then, the moment he heard the first stroke announcing the approach of Christmas morn, capture him, and then secure him before the twelfth stroke had been given.

As Tim dozed by the fire he was revolving in his mind the plan thus formed, and calculating its chances of success.

Fortune seemed to favor Tim, for, just as the clock struck 11, the snow ceased to fall—thus Tim had good time to make his way to the ‘ Forth ’ and reconnoitre the position of the enemy. With a light heart and a Hcrllf.PV O tfAl'k ho wont fnvf h f w\-»>a 4-1-* /-» 1-* /-*-»-•<-»✓-» Tl,« ivxuh iivm LUO iiu UOU. X lie bJJLIA W had fallen for a long time, and was deep on the roadway, but Tim did not seem to be inconvenienced. The moon shone out brightly, thus making the way through the circles of the trees an easy matter. Fortune had at last smiled on Timothy Grady, and Timothy Grady now smiled back on Fortune. Behold !

There upon the green sward was a host of fairies, laughing, chatting, dancing, singing. Tim considered himself a bit of a dancer, but there before his very eyes were figures and sets and jigs and reels that he never saw or heard tell of. And the music—he had never thought such sounds could be in any instrument —Ned Casey’s bagpipes or Phil Leary’s flute were hideous, compared to the instruments he now heard. It was only the greatest effort on his part that made Tim restrain himself from jumping into the midst of the faides, and showing them a few steps to the sounds of the delightful music. A little fairy was called upon to give a song. Evidently she was a popular singer, for all the dancing ceased, and everyone got into a listening attitude. Tim, like the fairies, felt interested

was so amazed at the spectacle that quite half the strokes of the village clock were over before he bethought himself of his mission. His eyes ran rapidly over the groups, to ascertain where the red leader was. Close at hand, standing in the same attitude as the other fairies, was the personage he sought. No sooner did Tim see his victim, than he advanced, and, just as the twelfth stroke was pealing forth, he placed his hand on the red leader’s shoulder. The moment the human hand touched the fairy, he shot from Tim’s grasp, so rapidly, that Tim could not close his hand.

‘Gone!’ exclaimed Tim in excited and despairing accents. But the fairy had not escaped, for, in nervous haste, Tim closed his large fingers in time to catch a substantial hold on the coat-tail of the fairy leader. For a moment or so Tim was unaware of the fact that there dangled in his hand a beautiful red coat, encasing a personage who was to be the author of making him a millionaire. When lie beheld his good fortune, he was almost beside himself with joy, but he managed to speak sternly to the captive ‘ If you try to escape, I will be the death of you. When you have told me where the nearest pot of gold is buried, I will let you off to enjoy yourself with

in the little lady. His wife, Molly, was, in her youth, the best singer in the parish, and Tim often felt proud of her vocal powers, but Molly had not even one note half as perfect as the singer he now heard. The first part of her song was sorrowful, and even the fairies wept, and so did Tim. Then she broke into a lively joyful part, and all tears were dried, and smiles were on all faces. Tim felt so pleased that he could have laughed aloud, but fear of detection restrained him. »So pleasantly had the time .passed, that Tim thought he was there only a few seconds. Now, the fairies joined in a general dancethe partners were chatting and laughing as they swung —but —

There in the distance sounded forth the first stroke of the village clock, announcing the arrival of the Christmas Morn.

The crowd became instantly silent —every fairy stood motionless, with eyes bent upon the ground. They looked like so many beautiful flowers shining forth in all their glory. The scene was really, impressive, and the fairy lights glowing out more powerful, gave full outline to the gorgeous dresses of the ladies, and the smart vari-colored suits of the gentlemen fairies. Tim

your comrades and friends. Now, no nonsense. I mean what I say, and you don’t try any of your tricks, or you shall know the result.’ ‘ Timothy Grady,’ said the little red leader, ‘ you will be sorry for this night’s work. Anyone that disturbs the fairy bands on Christmas Eve can never become rich or happy, unless a human life is destroyed over the vessel that contains the gold. You can have your pot of gold, but you must, before you can touch the gold, spill over the pot the blood of man or woman. Let me go to my people, and you go home and live like your honest wife Molly, or worse will happen you.’

‘ Look her, my little fellow, I won’t stand any lecture from you. Where is the gold? It does not matter to you what human blood is spilt over the pot of gold. I will take the penalty.’ Tim believed the fairy leader was trying to frighten him by holding this threat out to him, and so he discredited the condition mentioned of possessing the pot of gold. This fairy knew where every pot of gold was buried in the country, and everyone knows that every district in Ireland has a number of such pots, though of course, they are seldom found. They have been

stored under the ground for centuries, and now only the fairies know where they arc--so long a time have they been buried in the earth. ' Well, Timothy Grady, sinco you will not attend to my warning, I will tell you where there is a pot of gold.' ' On the pathway that leads from your house to the little church on the hill there is a blackthorn bush. Under that blackthorn bush, when you have digged down about six feet, you will find the pot of gold.' & 'Under that blackthorn bush!' exclaimed Tim. ' Do you tell me, now ? and just think I have been passing by that bush for the last fifty years. Well, Mister

' As it is Christmas morning, J won’t pay you back to.' your joke,’ said Tim. ' , am n ° fc j° kil 'g.’ said the fairy leader, sternly. Come along to the bush on the bill,’ said Tim; we have had enough talk.’ They made their way to the bush indicated, and I'f | l 'n "i <lS P assin g close to the house, on his way up the hill, he brought the necessary instruments for digging. First Tun bound the fairy leader with his boot laces, and then set him close to the tree so as to have an eye on him whilst at work. He proceeded to dig IT the earth. Long and patiently he worked: after a , w hours hard toil in the soft mould ho came to a large round vessel, shaped like a pot.

Fairy, one is often near to riches, and they don't .even know.' ' True, indeed, Mister Grady, riches are often in our very homes and we don't, know it.' ' What! do you mean that there is a pot of gold in my house?' ' Indeed, I do.' 'Where is Jt ? Tell me! It might he easier to find it there.' 'lt is easier, Timothy Grady. Ask your wife Molly, where it is.' Tim did not like the idea of Molly's name being brought into the matter,

Great was Tim's joy, and he worked gleefully to extricate the vessel from the surrounding'earth It was a labor of love, and so it was soon accomplished and by and by, Tim stood perspiring, although the night was cold, over the pot of gold. His joy, however was not so great when he heard— ' " 'Now, Timothy Grady, open that vessel if von can. J Tim knew it was the voice of the fairy, so without ooking up, ho struck (ho vessel with a spade Then he took the crowbar and dealt vigorous strokes', but to'' no purpose. Tim was in a fury. Here was- the gold msido the vessel, and yet it seemed so useless He

could not carry it away to his home, for no power on earth can remove one of these pots, until every golden piece has first been taken out.

1 There must be something,’ murmured Tim, ‘ in what that little chap says. Suppose I get some animal and take his life over the pot of gold. Perhaps that might be sufficient.’

Tie was determined not to allow the fairy know of this new resolve of his. So, making some excuse, he went off into the fields in search of a goat or calf—he

death-warning, and made his heart cease to beat for the moment. In great terror he rushed back to the place where lie had been digging the earth. He looked around, but could sec nothing strange, neither did he hear anything, so he went over to the place where his captive was. Tho fairy looked up at him, and remarked — ' Go over there, Timothy Grady, and see what you have done to become a millionaire.' Tim, who had not recovered from the fright in-

did not care which animal, for he could pay for either when the gold was taken from its resting place. He heard the fairy say to himself as he was moving off on his errand—- ' It's no use. You must do what I tell you.' Tim was in no humor to pay attention to him or to believe him. He had departed scarcely ten minutes, when he heard pealing out in the darkness the cry of a woman. To Tim it seemed, in the loneliness of the night, like a

duced by the shriek of the woman, obeyed quickly, went over, and looked down into the pit dug by him. There, lying with her head on a heap of gold pieces, was Molly, his wife. Her pale, lifeless face seemed more ghastly in the bright moonlight. The blood was oozing from a great wound on the forehead, and was flowing on the vessel that had encompassed the gold. Poor Molly! on her way to early Mass, she had not noticed the hole dug in the pathway, and so she had fallen into it, with the result that she fell head fop§-

most on the pot of gold. The human blood had been shed on the vessel, and so its magic bonds were loosed. Tim was a millionaire. Tim, as he looked down at the awful sight, could only think of Molly as she was in the days of old, the fairest girl in the whole countryside, the best singer and the neatest dancer, and the kindest-hearted colleen. He could only think of how she watched by his side in his sickness, how near she was to him in misfortune, how she toiled and strove from morn till night and without complaint. He never knew until now how dearly he loved Molly, and what her value was. He looked at the gold for a . moment, but only a moment, for he hated it now with all his soul. It was nothing but blood-money. He jumped into the pit and caught up Molly in his arms, and he

' Won't I ? I guess I will, and be a multi-mil-lionaire as long as I have Molly.' The fairy leader to save his own life restored life to Molly, but not before Tim had filled in the earth and forgotten where the place was in which the gold was buried. Tim woke up with a start, and for a time was doubtful as to his surroundings. Eventually it dawned on him that he had had a very realistic dream, the particulars of which lie related later on to his wife. -X- * -x- * * Tim and Molly sat down to dinner on Christmas Day, and they were as happy as people could be. 'Many

gently raised her up and laid her on the ground above. In his desperation, he had taken a resolve that the fairy leader should restore Molly to life or lose his own. Tim brought the captive to where Molly lay lifeless, and explained in grim accents the conditions of his getting off with his life to join his fairy companions. ‘ But,’ said the red leader, ‘if I restore life to Molly, that pot of gold closes up again, and you will lose all memory of its place.’ ‘I don’t care if all the gold in the world disappears, so long as you restore Molly to life, ’exclaimed Tim. ‘ But you won’t be a millioanire then,’ said the fairy.

people,' remarked Tim, ' are millionaries and don't know it.' 'True for you, Tim,' said Molly, 'they don't know it, because they have not the worry of millionaires.' Tim forgave Molly's hit at him. 'After all, there was no equal to her,' remarked Tim to himself. Molly, in her white cap and graceful gown that had seen more than twenty Christmas Days, could not put it out of her mind that Tim preferred her to millions of gold pieces. There's no one like Tim,' thought Molly.— The Irish Rosary.