One fine May morning a long time after  Margaret Rooneys   . It o tle place   t pleased ired of so many years of o ser at all times of t  seemed to imes t ting stiff like s, and it  so easy to  used to be to make fun and sport t, and to set all t talk, and to coax turned into a cabin t some poor man  to go ing and o again. And  tent to tle place for  as   imes. One by one to send to get some learning from  t, a feen cake or a couple of sods of turf,  a o be a poet, .

    It  May morning, liged enoug o  it  long till a o tones of t ing for ent for any lengtime since t is likely enougting some bad thing before me now, he said.

    And after  ting under a buse

    Purcell and Margaret Gillane and Maeve Connelan and Oona Curry and Celia Driscoll, and t of t from tering tongue.

    So be a girl of ter.  is on you, Nora? ake from me, Red  is I myself so serve you,  is I knoory of t sorroing, and t able to save you from trouble,   is in my songs, as it s t  is  of ts I myself ting and talking in some far place beyond to time, opped en ion, and t you knoroubles of time you refused your love to tge; and t s you in quiet since. But   is yourself knoo put  I ask you, Owen  indeed, said he.

    It is my fat are marrying me to old Paddy Doe, because ain. And it is er Kilmartin in one time you  sorro  of marriage.

    And let you make no delay about it, for it is for to?morrotled, and I  day.

    I  o a song t ell me  the song?

    O, y years and more bet is a b