Away to the north of Ben Bulben and Cope』s mountain lives 「a strong farmer,」 a knight of the sheep they would have called him in the Gaelic days. Proud of his dest from one of the most fighting s of the Middle Ages, he is a man of force alike in his words and in his deeds. There is but one man that swears like him, and this man lives far aon the mountain. 「Father in Heaven, what have I doo deserve this?」 he says when he has lost his pipe; and no man but he who lives on the mountain rival his language on a fair day over a bargain. He is passionate and abrupt in his movements, and when angry tosses his white beard about with his left hand.
One day I was dining with him when the servant-maid announced a certain Mr. O』Donnell. A sudden silence fell upon the old man and upon his two daughters. At last the eldest daughter said somewhat severely to her father, 「Go and ask him to e in and dihe old ma out, and then came in looking greatly relieved, and said, 「He says he will not dih us.」 「Go out,」 said the daughter, 「and ask him into the back parlour, and give him some whiskey.」 Her father, who had just finished his dinner, obeyed sullenly, and I heard the door of the back parlour—a little room where the daughters sat and sewed during the evening—shut to behind the men. The daughter then turo me and said, 「Mr. O』Donnell is the tax-gatherer, and last year he raised our taxes, and my father was very angry, and when he came, brought him into the dairy, ahe dairy-woman away on a message, and then swore at him a great deal. 『I will teach you, sir,』 O』Donnell replied, 『that the larotect its officers』; but my father reminded him that he had no witness. At last my father got tired, and sorry too, and said he would show him a short way home. When they were half-way to the main road they came on a man of my father』s who loughing, and this somehht back remembrance of the wrong. He sent the man away on a message, and began to swear at the tax-gatherer again. When I heard of it I was disgusted that he should have made such a fuss over a miserable creature like O』Donnell; and when I heard a few weeks ago that O』Donnell』s only son had died a him heart-broken, I resolved to make my father be kind to him ime he came.」
She the out to see a neighbour, and I sauowards the back parlour. When I came to the door I heard angry voices ihe two men were evidently getting on to the tax again, for I could hear them bandying figures to and fro. I opehe door; at sight of my face the farmer was reminded of his peaceful iions, and asked me if I knew where the whiskey was. I had seen him put it into the cupboard, and was able therefore to find it a out, looking at the thin, grief-struck face of the tax-gatherer. He was rather older than my friend, and very much more feeble and worn, and of a very different type. He was not like him, a robust, successful man, but rather one of those whose feet find ing-place upon the earth. I reized one of the children of reverie, and said, 「You are doubtless of the stock of the old O』Donnells. I know well the hole in the river where their treasure lies buried uhe guard of a serpent with many heads.」 「Yes, sur,」
he replied, 「I am the last of a line of princes.」
We theo talking of many onplace things, and my friend did not ooss up his beard, but was very friendly. At last the gaunt old tax-gatherer got up to go, and my friend said, 「I hope we will have a glass together year.」 「No, no,」 was the answer, 「I shall be de