“It was a person I used to know in Galway when I was living with my grandmother,

old Irish tonality and the singer seemed uncertain both of his words and of his voice.

thoughts of the past, of youth, of changes, of absent faces that we miss here tonight.

he tradition of genuine warm-hearted courteous Irish hospitality

“Beannacht libh,

“And why do you go to France and Belgium,” said Miss Ivors, “instead of visiting your own land?” “Well,” said Gabriel, “it’s partly to keep in touch with the languages and partly for a change.” “And haven’t you your own language to keep in touch with—Irish?” asked Miss Ivors.

To say you’d write for a paper like that. I didn’t think you were a West Briton.”

while he waited for the end the resentment died down in his heart

There’s that Lily, I’m sure I don’t know what has come over her lately. She’s not the girl she was at all.”

He would only make himself ridiculous by quoting poetry to them which they could not understand. They would think that he was airing his superior education. He would fail with them just as he had failed with the girl in the pantry. He had taken up a wrong tone. His whole speech was a mistake from first to last, an utter failure.

“The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you.”

“O, then,” said Gabriel gaily, “I suppose we’ll be going to your wedding one of these fine days with your young man, eh?”

. They were fussy, that was all. But the only thing they would not stand was back answers.

That was a good thirty years ago

Misses Morkan’s annual dance