him and a laughing eye he always stood to me for a little brother of mine and looked the very of him when i first saw him and tom came to the mills my little brother was my we were always together like twin i can mind myself now and i running home alone crying to tell my between mass and poor mother that we d run away to the rocks and a great wave came in and licked him oflf before my very eyes and i a bit higher up on the shore i wake up dreaming of him with the horror and a cold sweat all over me after a lifetime that s gone between me and that day i m an old man now call and my mind s always been in a priest s holy business but i ve a warm irish heart in me and there are times when i d like a brother s young child or one of my sister s that i left long ago in or to see my old mother shake her head and have the at me and i sitting there in the long winter evening in my still house and when that young gave a smile at me like the little lad that went under the sea and never was afraid or trying to get away from me because i was the priest i liked him more than i knew i could n t see then why he should n t make a good man and i helped him the best i could i know plenty of harm of him now god forgive him and bring him to repentance the old man and looked away his heart was filled with sorrow s ready tongue was checked but he was between mass and to himself about the black heart of i begin to think that sharp wits are the least of all the means by which a man wins true success said father everybody thought well of dan then sir tried to comfort him he had seen father angry and stem but never cast down like this they came to an open grassy space on a shelf of the great hill at one side was the cellar where a house had stood long ago some roses still grew about it and there was much of the solemn little plant so often seen in country burying grounds growing about the crumbling and off into the grass there was a smooth broad partly overgrown and a hop vine was sending up it determined shoots near by where it could find nothing to upon the old had evidently served as a seat for stray there was a place before it that had been worn by feet like the beginning of a path the house had been gone many years but one might have thought that its ghost was there and the was still trodden by those unseen inhabitants who went and the priest may have between mass and thought this but saw a gun lying by the step and a little bird fluttered away as if it had been finding a few stray there was a magnificent view of the lower country � woods and and pasture lands stretching miles upon miles with a river dividing them like a ribbon and white villages with their tiny and sprinkled houses and heavy dark mills as you turned the other way you looked up the dark hill slope the road appeared to end here by the deserted but some winter wood roads led off in different directions father stopped the breathless mare and got down we walk from here he said and also alighted his face was with perplexity they plunged deep into the woods along one of the half overgrown winter tracks which led up and over a high shoulder of the great hill t is like the way to the cave of the said half aloud as a dry whipped him in the face and father heard him and laughed well it s wonderful how those old tales between mass and do stay in the mind lie said cheerfully i was working away with a book yesterday a fine hard knot of latin it was too and i got sleepy and not a bit could i think of but how did the story of the little go that my old used to tell me before she d give me a little herself that she d have hidden in her blue cloak i d be afraid to eat it too after the tale weu i think it might be twenty years since i thought of it but i could not rid my mind of the trick of that foolish story and it kept itself round and round in my mind it may be the way with old folks i begin to feel old t was a great story of the little agreed solemnly i do be telling it to the there s nothing anybody tells that they d like so well wit their little always in the same place twas the same way wit my brothers and at home we d better mind sir lest ourselves gets on the fox s back an into his big do you know where you do be going looked about him anxiously the priest only laughed a queer laugh it was that might mean one thing or another d between mass and come on he said you make me think of another old tale they used to be telling at home about one mrs o s donkey that could neither go nor stand still at this moment when the had taken a most and even merry tone the two men found themselves on the edge of the thick woods with an open partly overgrown acre of land before them the pines had covered a piece of land cleared and deserted again many years before they had grown 