Stories of Red Hanrahan

    hanrahan,thatwasneverlonginoneplace,wasbackagainamongthevillagesthatareatthefootofslieveechtge,illetonandscalpandballylee,stoppingsometimesinonehouseandsometimesinanother,andfindingawelcomeineveryplaceforthesakeoftheoldtimesandofhispoetryandhislearning.therewassomesilverandsomecoppermoneyinthelittleleatherbagunderhiscoat,butitwasseldomheneededtotakeanythingfromit,foritwaslittleheused,andtherewasnotoneofthepeoplethatwouldhavetakenpaymentfromhim.hishandhadgrownheavyontheblackthornheleanedon,andhischeekswerehollowandworn,butsofarasfoodwent,potatoesandmilkandabitofoatencake,hehadwhathewantedofit;anditisnotontheedgeofsowildandboggyaplaceasechtgeamugofspiritswouldbewanting,withthetasteoftheturfsmokeonit.hewouldwanderaboutthebigwoodatkinadife,orhewouldsitthroughmanyhoursofthedayamongtherushesaboutlakebelshragh,listeningtothestreamsfromthehills,orwatchingtheshadowsinthebrownbogpools;sittingsoquietasnottostartlethedeerthatcamedownfromtheheathertothegrassandthetilledfieldsatthefallofnight....