very southern slope. There was
one small area where the strawberries grew in wonderful profusion. A
few years since I revisited this spot in spring. I found the fruit as
plentiful as ever, but somehow the flavor of the strawberry did not
seem to be so rich as it was five-and-forty years ago. Blackberries
were abundant on the edge of every thicket; on the heights of the
Scalp, over which we poached without restraint, haws and sloes grew
plentifully. It must not be inferred that Jimmy and I did not lay the
garden under levy, for we did. Apples, pears, gooseberries, and such
common fruits, we helped ourselves to freely, but I had given my word
not to touch any of the rare varieties such as plums and greengages.
These were trained, vine-wise, along the walls.

But we seldom lacked animal food, for we could always snare rabbits or,
except in the depths of winter, catch fish. The lake was full of perch,
roach, and eels; every mountain stream contained trout. On rare
occasions we would find Lord Powerscourt's pheasants in our snares. I
am sorry to say that in winter we would eat blackbirds, which we caught
in a crib made of elder-rods. This I always knew to be a disgraceful
thing to do, and it was only when very hungry indeed that such a crime
was committed.

Tired of the ways of society, Jimmy and I determined to have done
with civilization, so we built, with infinite pains and some measure
of skill, a large hut in the deepest and loneliest part of the
larch-forest. Larch-boughs and bracken were the materials used. To
this hut I surreptitiously conveyed a few utensils such as knives,
mugs, etcetera, as well as a change of clothing and some cast-off
garments as a fresh outfit for Jimmy. We disappeared early one
afternoon, and, after a lordly feast of roast rabbit and mushrooms,
sank to sleep on a fragrant bed of carefully selected fronds of dry
bracken.

At about midnight I awoke with the glare of a lantern in my eyes. My
father had come with a search party, and I was led, howling with wrath
and disappointment, back to the haunts of conventional men. My absence
had not been thought remarkable until ten o'clock had struck. Then a
messenger was dispatched to make inquiries at the Kinsella cottage.
Patsy, one of Jimmy's numerous brethren, betrayed us. He had, a few
days previously, followed our tracks to the secret lair. Poor Patsy,
subsequently had reason to regret his treachery.

One escapade of Jimmy's and mine nearly had