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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Belike my father is dead," said he as he bent his steps toward home. There he also found new faces and was given the word that his father had been dead this many a year. In sorrow Shamus turned away, making sad songs to comfort his heart. Thus he wandered through the world, finding no place where he could rest.
"Musha, sir," asked Shamus, scarce able prudently to control his agitation," and did he tell you that the treasure lay buried there ever so long under the open sky and the ould walls?" "No; but he told me I was to find the slab covered in by a shed that a poor man had lately built inside the abbey for himself and his family."
Shamus galloped at full speed down the now quickly falling road; then along its level continuation for about a mile; and then up another eminence, more lengthened, though not so steep as the former; and from it still he looked back, and caught the figure of the horseman breaking over the line of the hill he had passed.
"It is not often that I get an audience which can appreciate me, and you know yourself that a bit of praise helps wonderfully to make one do his best." "'Tis so," said Shamus. "A word of praise is meat and drink to one who sings or dances," he added remembering the hare. Shamus told the hare of the King of the Little People and the good things at his court.
"No, but the county of Clare," answered his companion. "Was it?" screamed Shamus, again springing up. The cherished hatred of twenty years imprudently bursting out, his uncle lay stretched at his feet, after a renewed flourish of his cudgel. "And do you know who you are telling it to this morning?
"Shamus, what ails you, avick?" asked old Noreen; "what ails you, to make the tears run down in the gray o' the morning?" "Tell her from me," continued Shamus, "that it's from the bottom o' the heart I 'll pray, morning and evening, and fresh and fasting, maybe, to give her a good time of it; and to show her a face on the poor child that's coming, likelier than the two that God sent afore it.
Shamus Dempsey returned a silent, plodding, sorrowful man, though a young one, to his poor home, after seeing laid in the grave his aged, decrepit father.
Now, however, it presented nothing to renew its former impression. The shops at the sides of the bridge were closed, and the occasional stragglers of either sex who came along inspired Shamus, little as he knew of a great city, with aversion rather than with dread. In the quietness and security of his present position, Shamus was both courageous and weak enough again to summon up his dream.
He made songs which he sang to her, and the Princess liked them. She grew fond of Shamus, who was a handsome lad.
Accordingly, he again walked toward the public-house, keeping the middle of the bridge. "Good-morrow, friend," said the publican, as Shamus a third time passed his door. "Sarvant kindly, sir," answered Shamus, respectfully pulling down the brim of his hat, and increasing his pace. "Am early hour you choose for a morning walk," continued his new acquaintance.
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