drove up the hill, stopped the horse while they looked at the tower and
heard the bells strike the hour.

"What Father Prout could see in such commonplace things to inspire him
to write his fine poem, I can not understand," said Lucy. "There is a
peculiar jingle in his lines which stays with one. Listen:

"'With deep affectation and recollection
I often think of the Shandon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would, in days of childhood
Fling round my cradle their magic spells--
On this I ponder, where'er I wander,
And thus grow fonder, sweet Cork of thee
With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee.'"

Lucy read the four stanzas.

"It's fine," agreed Chester; "and I think I can answer your question of
a moment ago. Father Prout, as he says, listened to these bells in
childhood days, those days when 'heaven lies about us' and glorifies
even the most common places, and the impressions he then received
remained with him."

Lucy "guessed" he was right.

Then they drove by St. Fin Barre's cathedral, considered the most
noteworthy and imposing building in Cork. "'It is thought probable the
poet Spenser was married in the church which formerly stood on the