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THE INDIAN ADVOCATE 477
then turning to the priest again, "Prepare me, Father, for my
long journey. When this duty is done, I may still have time
to tel) you my last story before I go."
The bystanders retired; the priest heard the dying man's
confession, and gave him the last spiritual consolations of the
Church. It was surprising how the exhausted old frame seem
ed to keep up its strength, as though it had another task to do
before going away.
"We are ready for the story now, Owney, if you are able,"
said the priest, while he called the people in from the outer
"Are you sure I am going to die, Father?" questioned the
dying man again.
"lam quite sure," replied the priest, sympathetically, "that
to-morrow you will be happier than any of us. You will see
sights that no human eye can see, and you will hear sounds
that no human ear can comprehend."
"Come close to me then, my friends; and, Father, give me
a drop of broth to strengthen me, while I tell you a true story
of myself and the ould land a story that was never heard be
fore by mortal ears."
And Owney turned his head to a better position, to face his
"You have often wondered," he went ou, "at the strange
ness of the ould man who has lived so long in this lane. But
1 wasn't always strange or ould. Long years ago, I lived ou
the banks of the Liffey, over in Ireland, in as happy a home
as ever God blessed a child with. We were poor, of course,
very poor, my brotners and myself, but we had a good ould
father and mother God bless their snulsl And besides that,
hadn't we the sunshine," the old man's eyes sparkled "and
the bees, and the green grass, and the flowers, and the hedges,
and the thrush, and the lark, and the sweet whisperin' waters
of the Liffey. Before my twentieth year, father and brothers
had be.en laid under the green sod, and I turned to support
an aged mother. But at that time, a new love came into my
Here Owney's voice softened to a whisper, and the words