One day I was at the house of my friend the strong farmer, who lives beyond Ben Bulben and Cope』s mountain, ahere a young lad who seemed to be disliked by the two daughters. I asked why they disliked him, and was; told he was a coward. This ied me, for some whom robust children of nature take to be cowards are but men and women with a nervous system too finely made for their life and work. I looked at the lad; but no, that pink-and-white fad strong body had nothing of undue sensibility. After a little he told me his story. He had lived a wild and reckless life, until one day, two years before, he was ing home late at night, and suddenly fell himself sinking in, as it were, upon the ghostly world. For a moment he saw the face of a dead brother rise up before him, and theurned and ran. He did not stop till he came to a cottage nearly a mile down the road. He flung himself against the door with so much of violehat he broke the thick wooden bolt and fell upon the floor. From that day he gave up his wild life, but eless coward. Nothing could ever bring him to look, either by day ht, upon the spot where he had seen the face, aewo miles round to avoid it; nor could, he said, 「the prettiest girl in the try」 persuade him to see her home after a party if he were alone. He feared everything, for he had looked at the faan see unged-the imponderable face of a spirit.