I
A mayo woman once said to me, 「I knew a servant girl who hung herself for the love of God. She was lonely for the priest and her society,[FN#5] and hung herself to the banisters with a scarf. She was no sooner dead than she became white as a lily, and if it had been murder or suicide she would have bee black as black. They gave her Christian burial, and the priest said she was no sooner dead than she was with the Lord. So nothing matters that you do for the love of God.」 I do not wo the pleasure she has in telling this story, for she herself loves all holy things with an ardour that brings them quickly to her lips. She told me ohat she never hears anything described in a sermon that she does not afterwards see with her eyes. She has described to me the gates of Purgatory as they showed themselves to her eyes, but I remember nothing of the description except that she could not see the souls in trouble but only the gates. Her mind tinually dwells on what is pleasant aiful. One day she asked me what month and what flower were the most beautiful. When I answered that I did not know, she said, 「the month of May, because of the Virgin, and the lily of the valley, because it never sinned, but came pure out of the rocks,」 and then she asked, 「what is the cause of the three onths of winter?」 I did not know even that, and so she said, 「the sin of man and the vengeance of God.」 Christ Himself was not only blessed, but perfe all manly proportions in her eyes, so much do beauty and holiness go together ihoughts. He alone of all men was exactly six feet high, all others are a little more or a little less.
[FN#5] The religious society she had beloo.
Her thoughts and her sights of the people of faery are pleasant aiful too, and I have never heard her call them the Fallen Angels. They are people like ourselves, only better-looking, and many and many a time she has goo the window to watch them drive their waggons through the sky, waggon behind waggon in long line, or to the door to hear them singing and dang in the Forth. They sing chiefly, it seems, a song called 「The Distant Waterfall,」 and though they onocked her down she hinks badly of them. She saw them most easily when she was in servi King』s ty, and one m a little while ago she said to me, 「Last night I was waiting up for the master and it was a quarter-past eleven. I heard a bang right down oable.
『King』s ty all over,』 says I, and I laughed till I was near dead. It was a warning I was staying too long. They wahe place to themselves.」 I told her once of somebody who saw a faery and fainted, and she said, 「It could not have been a faery, but some bad thing, nobody could faint at a faery. It was a demon. I was not afraid when they near put me, and the bed under me, out through the roof. I wasn』t afraid either when you were at some work and I heard a thing ing flop-flop up the stairs like an eel, and squealing. It went to all the doors. It could not get in where I was. I would have sent it through the universe like a flash of fire. There was a man in my place, a tearing fellow, a one of them down. He went out to meet it on the road, but he must have been told the words. But the faeries are the best neighbours. If you do good to them they will do good to you, but they don』t like you to be on their path.」 Aime she said to me, 「They are always good to the poor.」
II
There is, however, a man in a Galway village who see nothing but wiess. Some think him very hol