And my be 't is boiling and eating my own grandchild I 'll be , with a bit of salt butter , and I not knowing it ! Oh , Maurice , Maurice , if there 's any love or nature left in you , come back to your own ould mother , who reared you like a decent Christian ! ' Then the poor woman began to cry and sob so finely that it would do anyone good to hear her . Maurice was not long getting to the rim of the water . There he kept playing and dancing on as if nothing was the matter , and a great thundering wave coming in towards him ready to swallow him up alive ; but as he could not see it , he did not fear it . His mother it was who saw it plainly through the big tears that were rolling down her cheeks ; and though she saw it , and her heart was aching as much as ever mother 's heart ached for a son , she kept dancing , dancing all the time for the bare life of her . Certain it was she could not help it , for Maurice never stopped playing that wonderful tune of his . He only turned his ear to the sound of his mother 's voice , fearing it might put him out in his steps , and all the answer he made back was , ` Whisht with you mother -- sure I 'm going to be king over the fishes down in the sea , and for a token of luck , and a sign that I 'm alive and well , I 'll send you in , every twelvemonth on this day , a piece of burned wood to Trafraska . ' Maurice had not the power to say a word more , for the strange lady with the green hair , seeing the wave just upon them , covered him up with herself in a thing like a cloak with a big hood to it , and the wave curling over twice as high as their heads , burst upon the strand , with a rush and a roar that might be heard as far as Cape Clear . That day twelvemonth the piece of burned wood came ashore in Trafraska . It was a queer thing for Maurice to think of sending all the way from the bottom of the sea . A gown or a pair of shoes would have been something like a present for his poor mother ; but he had said it , and he kept his word . The bit of burned wood regularly came ashore on the appointed day for as good , ay , and better than a hundred years . The day is now forgotten , and may be that is the reason why people say how Maurice Connor has stopped sending the luck-token to his mother . Poor woman , she did not live to get as much as one of them ; for what through the loss of Maurice , and the fear of eating her own grandchildren , she died in three weeks after the dance . Some say it was the fatigue that killed her , but whichever it was , Mrs. Connor was decently buried with her own people . Seafaring people have often heard , off the coast of Kerry , on a still night , the sound of music coming up from the water ; and some , who have had good ears , could plainly distinguish Maurice Connor 's voice singing these words to his pipes -- Beautiful shore , with thy spreading strand , Thy crystal water , and diamond sand ; Never would I have parted from thee , But for the sake of my fair ladie . From ` Fairy Tales and Traditions of the South of Ireland . ' The Rich Brother and the Poor Brother There was once a rich old man who had two sons , and as his wife was dead , the elder lived with him , and helped him to look after his property . For a long time all went well ; the young man got up very early in the morning , and worked hard all day , and at the end of every week his father counted up the money they had made , and rubbed his hands with delight , as he saw how big the pile of gold in the strong iron chest was becoming .
` It will soon be full now , and I shall have to buy a larger one , ' he said to himself , and so busy was he with the thought of his money , XXXXX he did not notice how bright his son 's face had grown , nor how he sometimes started when he was spoken to , as if his mind was far away .
as at for from if of off over than that