she's a timid creature
for all that."

"Whatever the reason is I am certain that he has the girl, and I am
inclined to think that he was directed to her by the Leprecauns of
the Gort. You know they are at feud with you ever since their bird was
killed?"

"I am not likely to forget it, and they racking me day and night with
torments."

"You may be sure," said the Philosopher, "that if he's anywhere at all
it's at Gort na Cloca Mora he is, for, being a stranger, he wouldn't
know where to go unless he was directed, and they know every hole and
corner of this countryside since ancient times. I'd go up myself and
have a talk with him, but it wouldn't be a bit of good, and it wouldn't
be any use your going either. He has power over all grown people so that
they either go and get drunk or else they fall in love with every person
they meet, and commit assaults and things I wouldn't like to be telling
you about. The only folk who can go near him at all are little children,
because he has no power over them until they grow to the sensual age,
and then he exercises lordship over them as over every one else. I'll
send my two children with a message to him to say that he isn't doing
the decent thing, and that if he doesn't let the girl alone and go back
to his own country we'll send for Angus Og."

"He'd make short work of him, I'm thinking."

"He might surely; but he may take the girl for himself all the same."

"Well, I'd sooner he had her than the other one, for he's one of
ourselves anyhow, and the devil you know is better than the devil you
don't know."

"Angus Og is a god," said the Philosopher severely.

"I know that, sir," replied Meehawl; "it's only a way of talking I have.
But how will your honour get at Angus? for I heard say that he hadn't
been seen for a hundred years, except one night only when he talked to a
man for half an hour on Kilmasheogue."

"I'll find him, sure enough," replied the Philosopher.

"I'll warrant you will," replied Meehawl heartily as he stood up. "Long
life and good health to your honour," said he as he turned away.

The Philosopher lit his pipe.

"We live as long as we are let," said he, "and we get the health we
deserve. Your salutation embodies a reflection on death which is not
philosophic. We must acquiesce in all logical progressions. The merging
of opposites is completion. Life runs to death as to its goal, and we
should go towards that next stage of experience either carele