fair, and interesting to look upon--the clustering locks of his white
forehead were divided; yet there was on his otherwise open brow, a shade
of sorrow, produced by the coming separation, which even sleep could not
efface. The mother held the candle gently towards his face, shading
it with one hand, lest the light might suddenly awake him; she then
surveyed his features long and affectionately, whilst the tears fell in
showers from her cheeks.

"There you lie," she softly sobbed out, in Irish, "the sweet pulse of
your mother's heart; the flower of our flock, the pride of our eyes, and
the music of our hearth! Jimmy, avourneen machree, an' how can I part
wid you, my darlin' son! Sure, when I look at your mild face, and think
that you're takin' the world on your head to rise us out of our poverty,
isn't my heart breakin'! A lonely house we'll have afther you, acushla!
Goin' out and comin' in, at home or abroad, your voice won't be in my
ears, nor your eye smilin' upon me. An' thin to think of what you may
suffer in a sthrange land! If your head aches, on what tendher breast
will it lie? or who will bind the ribbon of comfort * round it? or wipe
your fair, mild brow in sickness? Oh, Blessed Mother!--hunger, sickness,
and sorrow may come upon you when you'll be far from your own, an' from
them that loves you!"

* The following quotation, taken from a sketch called
"The Irish Midwife," by the author, gives an
illustration of this passage:--"The first, meaning
pain in the head, she cures by a very formal and
serious process called 'measuring the head.' This is
done by a ribbon, which she puts round the cranium,
repeating during the admeasurement a certain prayer or
charm from which the operation is to derive its whole