The
heart was always right wid his father, and every one knows there's a
great deal in true blood. Sooner or later it'll tell for itself--but
what is this? There was something troublin' me this minute. Oh! ay,
you're goin' away, then, to America; but, mark my words:--I won't go.
You may, but I'll stay here. I won't lave the green fields of Carriglass
for any one. It's not much I'll be among them now, an' it isn't worth
your while to take me from them. Here's where I was born--here's where
the limbs that's now stiff an' feeble was wanst young and active--here's
where the hair that's white as snow was fair an' curlin' like
goold--here's where I was young--here's where I grew ould--among these
dark hills and green fields--here you all know is where I was born; and,
in spite o' you all, here's where I'll die."
The old man was much moved by all these recollections; for, as he
proceeded, the tears fell fast from his aged eyes, and his voice became
tremulous and full of 'sorrow.
"Wasn't it here, too," he proceeded, "that Peggy Slevin, she that was
famed far an' near for her beauty, and that the sweet song was made
upon--'Peggy Na Laveen'---ay--ay, you may think yourselves fine an'
handsome; but, where was there sich a couple as grandfather and Peggy Na
Laveen was then?"
As he uttered these words, his features that had been impressed by
grief, were lit up by a smile of that simple and harmless vanity which
often attends us to the very grave; after which he proceeded:--
"There, on the side of that hill is the roofless house where she was
born; an' there's not a field or hill about the place that her feet
didn't make holy to me.
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