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But in this war of hers she is wholly implacable. She has little notion of converting criminals. There is no faculty of mercy in her when she has been resisted. Her word is only, "I will mock when your fear cometh." And that is, indeed, the sorrowfullest fact we have to know about our own several lives. Wisdom never forgives.

Whether we can win it, fate must determine; but that we will be worthy of it we may ourselves determine; and the sorrowfullest fate of all that we can suffer is to have it without deserving it. Folly unfathomable! unspeakable! unendurable to look in the full face of, as the laugh of a cretin.

'I creepit up, an' I keeked within the openin' o't, an' there I saw twa hunters sittin' at board eatin', and whiles drinkin' the blood-red wine ane o' them was the bonniest man e'er I saw i' my life, but he had the sorrowfullest eyes e'er set i' a man's face. There was ne'er a bit colour to his cheeks save where a trickle o' claret had stained the corner o' his lip.

I think nearly the two sorrowfullest spectacles I have ever seen in humanity, taking the deep inner significance of them, are the English mobs in the valley of Chamouni, amusing themselves with firing rusty howitzers; and the Swiss vintagers of Zurich expressing their Christian thanks for the gift of the vine, by assembling in knots in the "towers of the vineyards," and slowly loading and firing horse-pistols from morning till evening.

The children were barefooted, so they played in the puddles as much as ever they liked. By and by Eileen said, "Let's play we are Deirdre and the sons of Usnach." "And who were they, indeed?" said Dennis. "It was Grannie told us about them," said Eileen, "and sure it's the sorrowfullest story in Ireland." "Then let's not be playing it," said Dennis.

But through the ages has the tale of the wondrous beauty of Deirdre been sung, and yet shall it be told again, for when shall the world tire of the sorrowfullest of 'The Three Sorrows of Story-telling, the Fate of the Sons of Usna and of Deirdre the Star-eyed? In the days of long ago there lived in the Green Isle of Erin a race of brave men and fair women the race of the Dedannans.

As I lay here, I fell to thinking of my life, and at first it seemed the sorrowfullest failure I had ever known. Whom had I made happy? What had I done worth the doing? Where was the humble satisfaction that should come hand in hand with death?