ered my head and in an undertone muttered, "God forgive
me."

"Great oul bhoy was Willie," he said.

"Aye."

"Och, thim wor purty nice times whin he'd come in o' nights an' him an'
Anna wud argie; but they're gone, clane gone, an' I'll soon be wi'
thim."

I bade farewell to Mary and took him to Belfast--for a private talk.
Every day for a week we went out to the Cave hill--to a wild and lonely
spot where I had a radius of a mile for the sound of my voice. The thing
of all things that I wanted him to know was that in America I had been
engaged in the same fight with poverty that they were familiar with at
home. It was hard for him to think of a wolf of hunger at the door of
any home beyond the sea. It was astounding to him to learn that around
me always there were thousands of ragged, starving people. He just gaped
and exclaimed:

"It's quare, isn't it?"

We sat on the grass on the hillside, conscious each of us that we were
saying the things one wants to say on the edge of the grave.

"She speyed I'd live t' see ye," he said.

"She speyed well," I answered.

"Th' night she died somethin' wontherful happened t' me. I wasn't as
deef as I am now, but I was purty deef. D'ye know, that night I cud
hear th' aisiest whisper frum her lips--I cud that. She groped fur m'
han; 'Jamie,' says she, 'it's nearly over, dear.'

"'God love ye,' says I.

"'Aye,' says she, 'if He'll jist love me as ye've done it'll be fine.'
Knowin' what a rough maan I'd been, I cudn't thole it.

"'Th' road's been gey rocky an' we've made many mistakes.'

"'Aye,' I said, 'we've barged (scolded) a lot, Anna, but we didn't mane
it.'

"'No,' says she, 'our crock ov love was niver dhrained.'

"I brot a candle in an' stuck it in th' sconce so 's I cud see 'er
face."

"'We might haave done betther,' says she, 'but sich a wee house, so many
childther an' so little money.'

"'We war i' hard up,' says I.

"'We wor niver hard up in love, wor we?'

"'No, Anna,' says I, 'but love dizn't boil th' kittle.'

"'Wud ye rather haave a boilin' kittle than love if ye had t' choose?'

"'Och, no, not at all, ye know rightly I wudn't.'

"'Forby, Jamie, we've given Antrim more'n such men as Lord Massarene.'

"'What's that?' says I.

"'A maan that loves th' poorest craithers on earth an' serves thim.'

"She had a gey good sleep afther that."

"'Jamie,' says she whin she awoke, 'was I ravin'?'

"'Deed no, Anna,' says I.

"'I'm not ravin' now, a