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Updated: June 14, 2025
Seumas Beg got out of that difficulty for a while by learning to whistle their notes, but, even so, they spoke with such rapidity that he could not by any means keep pace with them. Brigid could only whistle one note; it was a little flat "whoo" sound, which the birds all laughed at, and after a few trials she refused to whistle any more.
"Well, Seumaseen and Breedeen, you are good little children, and I like you very much. Health be with you until I come to see you again." And then the Leprecaun went back the way he had come. As he went he made little jumps and cracked his fingers, and sometimes he rubbed one leg against the other. "That's a nice Leprecaun," said Seumas. "I like him too," said Brigid.
He knew by these tokens that he possessed a power over this splendid woman that none of the other men could wield, she had lowered her eyes to no other but him and all the man in him sang exultantly under the knowledge. He greeted her father, the little Seumas Cavan of indomitable spirit, fresh, for all his march of a thousand miles, and he welcomed them both to Zion.
Brigid Beg thought for a moment. "I don't know, sir," she replied. "He doesn't mind us at all," broke in Seumas Beg, "and so we don't know whether we love him or not." "I like Caitilin," said Brigid, "and I like you." "So do I," said Seumas. "I like you also, little children," said Pan. "Come over here and sit beside me, and we will talk."
"Did you ever play Jackstones?" said the Leprecaun. "No, sir," replied Seumas. "I'll teach you how to play Jackstones," said the Leprecaun, and he picked up some pine cones and taught the children that game. "Did you ever play Ball in the Decker?" "No, sir," said Seumas. "Did you ever play 'I can make a nail with my ree-roraddy-O, I can make a nail with my ree-ro-ray'?" "No, sir," replied Seumas.
She said to Seumas that his fatal day would dawn when he loved a woman, because he would sacrifice his destiny to her caprice, and she begged him for love of her to beware of all that twisty sex.
No doubt in time they would all follow Bridgy to America all but Seumas; he was to have the farm. No, the girls could not get married, because their father was too poor to give them fortunes. There was nothing for them but to go to America. But their mother had not wanted them to go. The clergy and the nuns were against the girls going.
In Seumas O'Brien I believe that America has found a new humorist of popular sympathies, a rare observer and philosopher whose very absurdities have a persuasive philosophy of their own. The two established writers whose sustained excellence this year is most impressive are Katharine Fullerton Gerould and Wilbur Daniel Steele.
Already Brigid had made a tiny, whimpering sound, and Seumas had followed this with a sigh, the slightest prolongation of which might have trailed into a sob, and when children are overtaken by tears they do not understand how to escape from them until they are simply bored by much weeping.
But there is one shy singer of the group of writers in New Songs who might easily get overlooked because his verse takes little or no thought of the past or present or future of his country: yet the slim book in which is collected Seumas O'Sullivan's verses reveals a true poet, and if he is too shy to claim his country in his verses there is no reason why his country should not claim him, for he is in his way as Irish as any of our singers.
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