By Dr DOUGLAS HYDE


There was once a grown-up lad in the County Leitrim, and he was strong
and lively, and the son of a rich farmer. His father had plenty of
money, and he did not spare it on the son. Accordingly, when the boy
grew up he liked sport better than work, and, as his father had no other
children, he loved this one so much that he allowed him to do in
everything just as it pleased himself. He was very extravagant, and he
used to scatter the gold money as another person would scatter the
white. He was seldom to be found at home, but if there was a fair, or a
race, or a gathering within ten miles of him, you were dead certain to
find him there. And he seldom spent a night in his father's house, but
he used to be always out rambling, and, like Shawn Bwee long ago, there
was

"grádh gach cailin i mbrollach a léine,"

"the love of every girl in the breast of his shirt," and it's many's the
kiss he got and he gave, for he was very handsome, and there wasn't a
girl in the country but would fall in love with him, only for him to
fasten his two eyes on her, and it was for that someone made this _rann_
on him--

"Look at the rogue, it's for kisses he's rambling,
It isn't much wonder, for that was his way;
He's like an old hedgehog, at night he'll be scrambling
From this place to that, but he'll sleep in the day."

At last he became very wild and unruly. He wasn't to be seen day or