of oak and hemlock in a sheltered nook of the same inlet where Abel "farmed," became a Sunday afternoon rendezvous for the maids of the region, and thither Abel was wont to betake himself in bravest array with hopefully beating heart. And upon him the Sinn Fein lady sharpened her wit and loosed her stores of venom, doing this tongue-tied, isolated country dweller what despite she could in the eyes of the city "young ladies" whose companionship he coveted during the brief days of Summer.
My heart burned with the recital of this artless spirit, bruised by the injustices of life, and smarting under the lash of merciless feminine wit. Child-like he undoubtedly was, with a child's need of understanding and consolation, but also with a child's faith in human kind, and a generous interpretation of others. He was himself incapable of unkindness. When the Dack's cow broke into his pasture, or the Elysian depths of his oat-field, no complaint was made. She was gently driven forth only. And when her industry in milk-giving ebbed, the need was supplied from his own never-too-abundant stores, all the readily, I imagine, by way of placating his
