igged close by the little
church, and there were the children of Lir buried, Conn standing at
Finola's right hand, and Fiacra at her left, and before her face her
twin brother Aed.

And the grass grew green above them, and a white tombstone bore their
names, and across the grave floated morning and evening the chime of the
sweet Christ-bell.

THE MISHAPS OF HANDY ANDY

Andy Rooney was a fellow who had the most singularly ingenious knack of
doing everything the wrong way. He grew up in his humble Irish home full
of mischief to the eyes of every one save his admiring mother. But, to
do him justice, he never meant harm in the course of his life, and he
was most anxious to offer his services on every occasion to all who
would accept them. Here is the account of how Andy first went into
service:

When Andy grew up to be what in country parlance is called "a brave lump
of a boy," and his mother thought he was old enough to do something for
himself, she took him one day along with her to the squire's, and
waited outside the door, loitering up and down the yard behind the
house, among a crowd of beggars and great lazy dogs that were thrusting
their heads into every iron pot that stood outside the kitchen door,
until chance might give her "a sight of the squire afore he wint out, or
afore he wint in"; and, after spending her entire day in this idle way,
at last the squire made his appearance, and Judy presented her son, who
kept scraping his foot, and pulling his forelock, that stuck out like a
piece of ragged thatch from his forehead, making his obeisance to the
squire, while his mother was sounding his praises for being the
"handiest craythur alive, and so willin'--nothin' comes wrong to him."

"I suppose the English of all this is, you want me to take him?" said
the squire.

"Throth, an' your honor, that's just it--if your honor would be plazed."

"What can he do?"

"Anything, your honor."

"That means _nothing_, I suppose," said the squire.

"Oh, no, sir! Everything, I mane, that you would desire him to do."

To every one of these assurances on his mother's part Andy made a bow
and a scrape.

"Can he take care of horses?"

"The best of care, sir," said the mother.

"Let him come, then, and help in the stables, and we'll see what we can
do."

The next day found Andy duly installed in the office of stable-helper;
and, as he was a good rider, he was soon made whipper-in to the hounds,
and became a f