One day a friend of mine was making a skety Knight of the Sheep. The old man』s daughter was sitting by, and, when the versation drifted to love and lovemaking, she said, 「Oh, father, tell him about your love affair.」 The old man took his pipe out of his mouth, and said, 「Nobody ever marries the woman he loves,」 and then, with a chuckle, 「There were fifteen of them I liked better than the woman I married,」 and he repeated many women』s names. He went on to tell how when he was a lad he had worked for his grandfather, his mother』s father, and was called (my friend has fotten why) by his grandfather』s name, which we will say was Doran. He had a great friend, whom I shall call John Byrne; and one day he and his frieo Queenstown to await an emigrant ship, that was to take John Byro America. When they were walking along the quay, they saw a girl sitting on a seat, g miserably, and two men standing up in front of her quarrelling with one another. Doran said, 「I think I know what is wrong. That man will be her brother, and that man will be her lover, and the brother is sendio America to get her away from the lover. How she is g! but I think I could sole her myself.」 Presently the lover and brother went away, and Doran began to walk up and down before her, saying, 「Mild weather, Miss,」 or the like. She answered him in a little while, and the three began to talk together. The emigrant ship did not arrive for some days; and the three drove about on outside cars very ily and happily, seeing everything that was to be seen. When at last the ship came, and Doran had to break it to her that he was not going to America, she cried more after him than after the first lover. Doran whispered to Byrne as he went aboard ship, 「Now, Byrne, I don』t grudge her to you, but don』t marry young.」
Wheot to this, the farmer』s daughter joined In mogly with, 「I suppose you said that for Byrne』s good, father.」 But the old man insisted that he had said it for Byrne』s good; a on to tell how, whe a letter telling of Byrne』s e to the girl, he wrote him the same advice. Years passed by, and he heard nothing; and though he was now married, he could not keep from w what she was doing. At last he went to America to find out, and though he asked many people for tidings, he could get none. More years went by, and his wife was dead, and he well on in years, and a rich farmer with not a few great matters on his hands. He found an excuse in some vague busio go out to America again, and to begin his search again. One day he fell into talk with an Irishman in a railway carriage, and asked him, as his way was, about emigrants from this plad that, and at last, 「Did you ever hear of the miller』s daughter from Innis Rath?」 and he he woman he was looking for. 「Oh yes,」 said the other, 「she is married to a friend of mine, John Mag. She lives at sud-such a street in Chicago.」 Dorao Chicago and k her door. She opehe door herself, and was 「not a bit ged.」 He gave her his real name, which he had taken again after his grandfather』s death, and the name of the man he had met irain. She did nnize him, but asked him to stay to dinner, saying that her husband would be glad to meet anybody who khat old friend of his. They talked of many things, but for all their talk, I do not know why, and perhaps he did not know why, he old her who he was. At dinner he asked her about Byrne, and she put her head down oable and began to cry, and she cried so he was afraid her husband might be angry. He was a