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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 room. "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 hearers, "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 life." Here Owney's voice softened to a whisper, and the words came slowly.