ce, but without
any evidence of feeling. The others, on the contrary, seemed deeply
affected; and the younger of the two, whose arm was broken, seemed
greatly moved, and the tears rolled down his hardy cheeks.

These signs of emotion were evidently displeasing to the old man, whose
nature was of a sterner and more cruel mould; and as he turned away from
the father's admonition he moved past me, muttering, as he went--

'Isn't it all fair? Blood for blood; and sure they dhruv him to it.'

After a few words from the priest, two of the party took their spades
from the car, and began digging the grave; while Father Loftus, leading
the other aside, talked to him for some time.

'Begorra,' said the old man, as he shovelled the earth to either side,
'Father Tom isn't like himself, at all, at all. He used to have pity
and the kind word for the poor when they were turned out on the world
to starve, without as much as a sheaf of straw to lie upon, or potatoes
enough for the children to eat.'

'Whisht, father! or the priest will hear ye,' said the younger one,
looking cautiously around.

'Sorrow bit o' me cares if he does! it's thruth I'm telling. You are not
long in these parts, sir, av I may make so bowld?'

'No,' said I, 'I'm quite a stranger.'

'Well, anyhow, ye may understand that this isn't a fine soil for a
potato-garden; and yet the devil a other poor Shaun had since they
turned him out on the road last Michaelmas Day, himself and his wife and
the little gossoon--the only one they had, too--with a fever and ague
upon him. The poor child, however, didn't feel it long, for he died in
ten days after. Well, well! the way of God there's no saying against it.
But, sure, if the little boy didn't die Shaun was off to America; for he
tuk his passage, and got a sea-chest of a friend, and was all ready
to go. But you see, when the child died, he could not bring himself
to leave the grave; and there he used to go and spend half of his days
fixing it, and settling the sods about it, and wouldn't take a day's
work from any of the neighbours. And at last he went off one night, and
we never knew what was become of him, till a pedlar brought word that
he and Mary was living in the Cluan Beg, away from everybody, without
a friend to say "God save you!" It's deep enough now, Mickey; there's
nobody will turn him out of this. And so, sir, he might have lived for
many a year; but when he heerd that the boys was up, and going to settle