Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Seumas Beg, by James Stephens This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net Title: The Adventures of Seumas Beg The Rocky Road to Dublin Author: James Stephens Release Date: August 25, 2011 [EBook #37214] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** Produced by Al Haines THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN BY JAMES STEPHENS AUTHOR OF 'THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER,' 'THE HILL OF VISION,' 'THE CROCK OF GOLD,' ETC. MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON 1915 COPYRIGHT CONTENTS THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG The Cherry Tree Breakfast Time In the Orchard Day and Night The Devil's Bag A Visit from Abroad The Wood of Flowers The White Window Midnight Behind the Hill The Secret April Showers The Turn of the Road The Coral Island The Cow The Old Man What the Snake saw The Horse The Apple Tree The Appointment Check When I was Young THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN The Patriot's Bed Grafton Street Portobello Bridge York Street The Fifteen Acres College Green Mount Street Westland Row The College of Science The Canal Bank By Ana Liffey From Hawk and Kite The Gombeen-man Beresford Place At the Fair The Fur Coat Dublin Men O'Connell Bridge Charlotte Street George's Street Holles Street Katty Gollagher Cork Hill The Piper The Shadow Custom House Quay Stephen's Green The College of Surgeons Merrion Square The Bare Trees Dunphy's Corner The Dodder Bank White Fields The Paps of Dana Donnelly's Orchard Donnybrook THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG THE CHERRY TREE _Come from your bed my drowsy gentleman! And you, fair lady, rise and braid your hair, And let the children wash, if wash they can; If not, assist you them, and make them fair As is the morning and the morning sky, And every tree and bush and bird in air._ _The sun climbed on the heights three hours ago, He laughed above the hills and they were glad; With bubbled pearl he made the rivers flow And laced their mists in silver, and he clad The meads in fragrant pomp of green and gold, And bade the world forget it had been sad._ _So lift yourself, good sir! and you, sweet dame, Unlash your evening eyes of pious grey; Call on the children by each loved name, And set them on the grass and let them play; And play with them a while, and sing with them Beneath the cherry bush a roundelay._ BREAKFAST TIME The sun is always in the sky Whenever I get out of bed, And I often wonder why It's never late.--My sister said She did not know who did the trick, And that she did not care a bit, And I should eat my porridge quick. ... I think it's mother wakens it. IN THE ORCHARD There was a giant by the Orchard Wall Peeping about on this side and on that, And feeling in the trees: he was as tall As the big apple tree, and twice as fat: His beard was long, and bristly-black, and there Were leaves and bits of grass stuck in his hair. He held a great big club in his right hand, And with the other felt in every tree For something that he wanted. You could stand Beside him and not reach up to his knee So mighty big he was--I feared he would Turn round, and trample down to where I stood. I tried to get away, but, as I slid Under a bush, he saw me, and he bent Far down and said, "_Where is the Princess hid?_" I pointed to a place, and off he went-- But while he searched I turned and simply flew Round by the lilac bushes back to you. DAY AND NIGHT When the bright eyes of the day Open on the dusk, to see Mist and shadow fade away And the sun shine merrily, Then I leave my bed and run Out to frolic in the sun. Through the sunny hours I play Where the stream is wandering, Plucking daisies by the way; And I laugh and dance and sing, While the birds fly here and there Singing on the sunny air. When the night comes, cold and slow, And the sad moon walks the sky, When the whispering wind says "_Boh, Little boy!_" and makes me cry, By my mother I am led Home again and put to bed. THE DEVIL'S BAG I saw the Devil walking down the lane Behind our house.--There was a heavy bag Strapped tightly on his shoulders, and the rain Sizzled when it hit him. He picked a rag Up from the ground and put it in his sack, And grinned and rubbed his hands. There was a thing Moving inside the bag upon his back-- It must have been a soul! I saw it fling And twist about inside, and not a hole Or cranny for escape! Oh, it was sad! I cried, and shouted out, "_Let out that soul!_" But he turned round, and, sure, his face went mad, And twisted up and down, and he said "_Hell!_" And ran away.... Oh, mammy! I'm not well. A VISIT FROM ABROAD A speck went blowing up against the sky As little as a leaf: then it drew near And broadened.--"It's a bird," said I, And fetched my bow and arrows. It was queer! It grew up from a speck into a blot, And squattered past a cloud; then it flew down All crumply, and waggled such a lot I thought the thing would fall.--It was a brown Old carpet where a man was sitting snug Who, when he reached the ground, began to sew A big hole in the middle of the rug, And kept on peeping everywhere to know Who might be coming--then he gave a twist And flew away.... I fired at him but missed. THE WOOD OF FLOWERS I went to the Wood of Flowers (No one was with me); I was there alone for hours. I was happy as could be In the Wood of Flowers. There was grass on the ground, There were buds on the tree, And the wind had a sound Of such gaiety, That I was as happy As happy could be, In the Wood of Flowers. THE WHITE WINDOW The moon comes every night to peep Through the window where I lie, And I pretend to be asleep; But I watch the moon as it goes by, And it never makes a sound. It stands and stares, and then it goes To the house that's next to me, Stealing on its tippy-toes, To peep at folk asleep maybe; And it never makes a sound. MIDNIGHT And then I wakened up in such a fright; I thought I heard a movement in the room But did not dare to look; I snuggled right Down underneath the bedclothes--then the boom Of a tremendous voice said, "_Sit up, lad, And let me see your face._" So up I sat, Although I didn't want to. I was glad I did though, for it was an angel that Had called me, and he said, he'd come to know Was I the boy who wouldn't say his prayers Nor do his sums, and that I'd have to go Straight down to hell because of such affairs. ... I said I'd be converted and do good If he would let me off--he said he would. BEHIND THE HILL Behind the hill I met a man in green Who asked me if my mother had gone out? I said she had. He asked me had I seen His castle where the people sing and shout From dawn to dark, and told me that he had A crock of gold inside a hollow tree, And I could have it.--I wanted money bad To buy a sword with, and I thought that he Would keep his solemn word; so, off we went. He said he had a pound hid in the crock, And owned the castle too, and paid no rent To any one, and that you had to knock Five hundred times. I asked, "_Who reckoned up?_" And he said, "_You insulting little pup!_" THE SECRET I was frightened, for a wind Crept along the grass to say Something that was in my mind Yesterday-- Something that I did not know Could be found out by the wind, I had buried it so low In my mind. APRIL SHOWERS The leaves are fresh after the rain, The air is cool and clear, The sun is shining warm again, The sparrows hopping in the lane Are brisk and full of cheer. And that is why we dance and play, And that is why we sing, Calling out in voices gay, We will not go to school to-day Or learn anything: It is a happy thing, I say, To be alive on such a day. THE TURN OF THE ROAD I was playing with my hoop along the road Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly, There came a shout.--I ran away and stowed Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see What made the noise, and then, around the bend, I saw a woman running. She was old And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.--The end Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled Right off her, and her hair fell down.--Her face Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick, And she was talking queer. "_O God of Grace!_" Said she, "_where is the child?_" and flew back quick The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands; ... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands. THE CORAL ISLAND His arms were round a chest of oaken wood, It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed An awful weight. After a while he stood And I stole near to him.--His white eyes gleamed As he peeped secretly about; he laid The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew In all directions underneath a tree, And when the hole was deep he put the box Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly, Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox He crept among the trees.... I went next day To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way. THE COW Cow, Cow! I and thou Are looking at each other's eyes You are lying on the grass Eating every time I pass, And you do not seem to be Ever in perplexity: You are good I'm sure, and not Fit for nothing but the pot: For your bearing is so kind, And your quietness so wise: Cow, Cow! I and thou Are looking at each other's eyes. THE OLD MAN An old man sat beneath a tree Alone; So still was he That, if he had been carved in stone, He could not be More quiet or more cold: He was an ancient man More than A thousand ages old. WHAT THE SNAKE SAW A little girl and a big ugly man Went down the road. The girl was crying And asking to go home, but when she ran He hit her on the head and sent her flying, And called her a young imp, and said he'd break Her neck unless she went with him, and then He smacked her on the cheek.--I was a snake At that time crawling through a robber's den, And diamonds were sticking to my tongue-- (That's the best dodge), but when I saw the way He beat the little girl I up and flung A stone at him. My aim was bad that day Because I hit the girl ... and she did sing! But he jumped round and cursed like anything. THE HORSE A sparrow hopped about the street, And he was not a bit afraid; He flew between a horse's feet, And ate his supper undismayed: I think myself the horse knew well The bird came for the grains that fell. For his eye was looking down, And he danced the corn about In his nose-bag, till the brown Grains of corn were tumbled out; And I fancy that he said, "Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!" The driver then came back again, He climbed into the heavy dray; And he tightened up the rein, Cracked his whip and drove away. But when the horse's ribs were hit, The sparrow did not care a bit. THE APPLE TREE I was hiding in the crooked apple tree, Scouting for Indians, when a man came; I thought it was an Indian, for he Was running like the wind.--There was a flame Of sunlight on his hand as he drew near, And then I saw a knife gripped in his fist. He panted like a horse; his eyes were queer, Wide-open, staring frightfully, and, hist! His mouth stared open like another eye, And all his hair was matted down with sweat. I crouched among the leaves for fear he'd spy Where I was hiding, so he did not get His awful eyes on me, but like the wind He fled as if he heard something behind. THE APPOINTMENT Tree! you are years standing there, Gripping tight to the side of the hill, And your branches are spread on the air, While you stand so sad and so still, And you do not complain When you're wet with the rain, Though I think you have often been ill. I would like (but it could not be done, So you must not keep me to my word) To take you away when the sun Goes down, and the breezes are stirred, And hug you in bed With myself, till you said That to sleep on a hill was absurd. O beautiful tree! when the night Is dark, and the winds come and scold, I would love then to cuddle you tight, For I fear you will die of the cold; But you are so tall, And my bed is so small, That it could not be done, I am told. My mother is calling for me, And the baby is wanting to play, I shall have to go home now, you see, But I'll give you a kiss if I may: I would stay if I could, But a child must be good, So I must, darling tree, go away. I will leave you my pencil and slate, And this little pin from my frock; But now I must go, for it's late, And my mother is rattling the lock: So good-bye, darling dear, I'll come back, never fear, In the morning at seven o'clock. CHECK The night was creeping on the ground; She crept and did not make a sound Until she reached the tree, and then She covered it, and stole again Along the grass beside the wall. I heard the rustle of her shawl As she threw blackness everywhere Upon the sky and ground and air, And in the room where I was hid: But no matter what she did To everything that was without, She could not put my candle out. So I stared at the night, and she Stared back solemnly at me. WHEN I WAS YOUNG I will not know when I am dead If sun or moon is overhead; I'll stretch out flat without a sound Inside a box beneath the ground, And never rise again to see Branches lifting on a tree, Nor hear the song the finches sing In the spring. I'll not, while sunny ages go, Lift a hand or wag a toe; But in a wooden box will be Hidden for eternity From sea and sun, from sight and sound, From touch of people, voice of friend, From all that makes my heart to bound, Denying such an end: It is so strange--I wonder why People die! THE ROCKY ROAD TO DUBLIN THE PATRIOT'S BED When a son you shall desire, Pray to water and to fire; But when you would have a daughter, Pray to fire and then to water. GRAFTON STREET At four o'clock, in dainty talk, Lords and lovely ladies walk, With a gentle dignity, From the Green to Trinity. And at five o'clock they take, In a Cafe, tea and cake, Then they call a carriage, and Drive back into fairyland. PORTOBELLO BRIDGE Silver stars shine peacefully, The Canal is silver, the Poplars bear with modest grace Gossamers of silver lace, And the turf bank wears with glee Black and silver filigree. YORK STREET If in winter you shall drive Birds from crumbs, you shall not thrive; But if you feed them, they will fly To sing it sweetly on the sky. So throw up the window, and Scatter with a lavish hand, Taking care you do not spill Flower-pots from the window-sill, Singing, "Ireland shall be free From the centre to the sea"; Singing bravely once again, "We are Dan O'Connell's Men." THE FIFTEEN ACRES I cling and swing On a branch, or sing Through the cool, clear hush of Morning, O: Or fling my wing On the air, and bring To sleepier birds a warning, O: That the night's in flight, And the sun's in sight, And the dew is the grass adorning, O: And the green leaves swing As I sing, sing, sing, Up by the river, Down the dell, To the little wee nest, Where the big tree fell, So early in the morning, O. I flit and twit In the sun for a bit When his light so bright is shining, O: Or sit and fit My plumes, or knit Straw plaits for the nest's nice lining, O: And she with glee Shows unto me Underneath her wings reclining, O: And I sing that Peg Has an egg, egg, egg, Up by the oat-field, Round the mill, Past the meadow, Down the hill, So early in the morning, O. I stoop and swoop On the air, or loop Through the trees, and then go soaring, O To group with a troop On the gusty poop While the wind behind is roaring, O: I skim and swim By a cloud's red rim And up to the azure flooring, O: And my wide wings drip As I slip, slip, slip Down through the rain-drops, Back where Peg Broods in the nest On the little white egg, So early in the morning, O. COLLEGE GREEN When you meet an ancient man, Be as silent as you can; So when old age comes to you, Courtesies shall gather too. And King Billy's horse will start From our street and from our heart, When each Irishman shall be Perfected in courtesy. MOUNT STREET Here and there on the wings of night A fleck of blue and purple light, A scrap of cloud, a bird, a star, A comet hurrying afar On the abyss, and the moon Standing in her silver shoon. On the summit of the sky, Delicate and proud and high, The silver moon on a silver sea Spins her silver broidery While the stars send down a light Here and there on the wings of night. WESTLAND ROW Every Sunday there's a throng Of pretty girls, who trot along In a pious, breathless state (They are nearly always late) To the Chapel, where they pray For the sins of Saturday. They have frocks of white and blue, Yellow sashes they have too, And red ribbons show each head Tenderly is ringleted; And the bell rings loud, and the Railway whistles urgently. After Chapel they will go, Walking delicately slow, Telling still how Father John Is so good to look upon, And such other grave affairs As they thought of during prayers. THE COLLEGE OF SCIENCE Who knows a thing and will not tell Shall spend eternity in hell; But he who learns and teaches free In heaven spends eternity. Around the Leinster Lawn we go Into Molesworth Street, and so To Saint Stephen's Green, where we Hang a banner on a tree. THE CANAL BANK I know a girl, And a girl knows me, And the owl says, what? And the owl says, who? But what we know We both agree That nobody else Shall hear or see, It's all between Herself and me: To wit? said the owl, To woo, said I, To-what, to-wit, to-woo! BY ANA LIFFEY If you come to live with me, I will sing so heartily In your honour that you will Stay to wonder at my skill. In your honour I will fill The world with songs of triumph, till You and I and Time are old Pipers of the Age of Gold. Time and you and I will hold, Everywhere by field and fold, Concerts of content, and be Known afar for jollity. Everywhere by fold and field We will wander well-agreed; So I sing right heartily, Come along and live with me. FROM HAWK AND KITE Poor, frightened, fluttered, silent one! If we had seen your nest of clay We would have passed it by, and gone, Nor frightened you away. For there are others guard a nest From hawk and kite and lurking foe, And more despair is in their breast Than you can ever know. Shield the nests where'er they be, On the ground or on the tree; Guard the poor from treachery. THE GOMBEEN-MAN I put the sky into my pocket, And the sea into my locket, And into my breeches-band I put the land. So I was trotting off to share, Among my comrades in the lair, Our profits, when a peeler came And took my name. And now I'm in the County Gaol! Will anybody be my bail? Will anybody be my bail And take me from the County Gaol? BERESFORD PLACE The man who has and does not give Shall break his neck, and cease to live; But he who gives without a care Shall gather rubies from the air. AT THE FAIR The lark shall never come to say To a gombeen-man, "Good day," And the lark shall never cry To a kindly man, "Good-bye." See the greedy gombeen-man Taking everything he can From man and woman, dog and cat-- And the lark does not like that. THE FUR COAT I walked out in my Coat of Pride, I looked about on every side, And said the mountains should not be Just where they were, and that the sea Was badly placed, and that the beech Should be an oak--and then from each I turned in dignity as if They were not there: I sniffed a sniff, And climbed upon my sunny shelf, And sneezed a while, and scratched myself. DUBLIN MEN A Dublin man will frown when he Hears a tale of villainy; But when a kindness you relate, He swings and whistles on the gate. O'CONNELL BRIDGE In Dublin town the people see Gorgeous clouds sail gorgeously, They are finer, I declare, Than the clouds of anywhere. A swirl of blue and red and green, A stream of blinding gold, a sheen From silver hill and pearly ridge Comes each evening on the bridge. So when you walk in a field, look down, Lest you tramp on a daisy's crown, But in a city look always high And watch the beautiful clouds go by. CHARLOTTE STREET Inside a soap shop, down a lane, A big bee buzzed on a window-pane, Climbing the cold glass up and down; Bee, what brought you into town? You are tired and hungry and scarce alive, Poor old Shaggy-Tail! where's your hive? GEORGE'S STREET Listen! if but women were Half as kind as they are fair, There would be an end to all Miseries that do befall. Cloud and wind would run together In a dance of sunny weather, And the happy trees would throw Gifts to travellers below. Then the lion, meek and mild, With the lamb would, side by side, Couch him friendly, and would be Innocent of enmity. Then the Frozen Pole would go, Tossing off his fields of snow, And would shake delighted feet With the girls of George's Street. These, if women only were Half as kind as they are fair. HOLLES STREET Through the air, Everywhere, the rain is falling; Brawling on house and tree: On every place that you can see The rain drops go; The roofs are wet, the walls, the ground below. Midnight has come; Now all the people stretch them blind and dumb Each in a bed Save I, who sit and listen overhead Unto the rain Splashing upon the roof and window-pane. Midnight! and I Can get no sleep, nor can the sky. KATTY GOLLAGHER The hill is bare: I only find The grass, the sky, and one small tree Tossing wildly on the wind; And that is all there is to see: A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky Where nothing ever passes by. CORK HILL Come all ye happy children, and Gather round me hand in hand, Dancing to the merry cry, "See the Robbers Passing By." Past the Castle we will dance To the Mansion House, and prance Back by George's Street and cry, "See the Robbers Passing By." Gather then ye children all Into ranks processional, Marching to the merry cry, "See the Robbers Passing By." THE PIPER Shepherd! while the lambs do feed, And you rest beneath a tree, Pipe upon an oaten reed Merrily and merrily. Should it rain do not forbear-- Rain comes from the happy sky-- Tune us now a quiet air Till the shower passes by. Back the sun will come in gold! Pipe away, my dear, until Evening brings the lambs to fold-- You may weep then if you will. THE SHADOW Silence comes upon the night, Gone is all the cheerful day, The moon has disappeared from sight, Every star has gone away. Sinking through the void, and thence Disappearing, star and sky, In the stern and black immense That has blinded every eye. Silence crouches on the land, In the street a shadow lies Cloaked in velvet wrappings, and With a mask upon her eyes. Anonymous and terrible Mother of the primal ray, Only night because thou art In thyself excess of day. CUSTOM HOUSE QUAY When a Dublin man shall say, "Give me a little bread, I pray," If you do not give him bread You will be hungry when he is fed. And let no priest or magistrate Scowl upon the poor man's plate, Asking him the question sly To which no one can reply. STEPHEN'S GREEN The wind stood up and gave a shout; He whistled on his fingers, and Kicked the withered leaves about And thumped the branches with his hand, And said he'd kill, and kill, and kill, And so he will, and so he will. THE COLLEGE OF SURGEONS As I stood at the door Sheltered out of the wind, Something flew in Which I hardly could find. In the dim, gloomy doorway I searched till I found A dry withered leaf Lying down on the ground. With thin, pointed claws And a dry dusty skin,-- Sure a hall is no place For a leaf to be in! Oh where is your tree, And your summer and all, Poor dusty leaf Whistled into a hall? MERRION SQUARE Grey clouds on the tinted sky, A drifting moon, a quiet breeze Drooping mournfully to cry In the branches of the trees. The crying wind, the sighing trees, The ruffled stars, the darkness falling Down the sky, and on the breeze A belated linnet calling. THE BARE TREES Unfortunates, on the bare tree! I mourn for ye That have no place to house, But on those winter-white cold boughs To sit, (How far apart ye sit) And brood In this wide, wintry solitude That has no song at all to hearten it. Fly away, little birds! Fly away to Spain, Stay there all the winter Then come back again; Come back in the summer When the leaves are thick; Little weeny cold birds Fly away quick. DUNPHY'S CORNER Pacing slowly down the road Black horses go, with load on load Of Dublin people dead, and they Will be covered up in clay. Ere their friends go home, each man Will shake his head, and drain a can To Dublin people we will meet Not again in Grafton Street. THE DODDER BANK When no flower is nigh, you might Spy a weed with deep delight; So, when far from saints and bliss, God might give a sin a kiss. WHITE FIELDS In the winter children go Walking in the fields of snow Where there is no grass at all, And the top of every wall, Every fence, and every tree Is as white as white can be. Pointing out the way they came, (Every one of them the same) All across the fields there be Prints in silver filigree; And their mothers find them so By the footprints in the snow. THE PAPS OF DANA The mountains stand and stare around, They are far too proud to speak; Altho' they're rooted in the ground, Up they go, peak after peak, Beyond the tallest tree, and still Soaring over house and hill Until you'd think they'd never stop Going up, top over top, Into the clouds-- Still I mark That a sparrow or a lark Flying just as high, can sing As if he'd not done anything. I think the mountains ought to be Taught a little modesty. DONNELLY'S ORCHARD He who locks a gate doth close Pity's heart against his woes; But who opens one shall find God is standing just behind. DONNYBROOK I saw the moon so broad and bright Sailing high on a frosty night: And the air swung far and far between The silver disc and the orb of green: While here and there a wisp of white Cloud-film swam on the misty light: And crusted thickly on the sky, High and higher and yet more high, Were golden star-points dusted through The great, wide, silent vault of blue: Then I said to me--God is good And the world is fair--and where I stood I knelt me down and bent my head, And said my prayers, and went to bed. THE END _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, _Edinburgh._ _BY THE SAME AUTHOR._ THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. _THE PALL MALL GAZETTE_.--"A wise, beautiful, and humorous book.... If you could have given Sterne a soul and made him a poet he might have produced _The Crock of Gold_." THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. _STANDARD_.--"The book is full of fine knowledge and fantasies in every shade of gaiety and gravity, and we would call its author a magician did we not feel that everything he writes is perfectly natural to him.... This book would prove, if proof were needed, that Mr. Stephens's _Crock of Gold_ was not a mere _tour de force_, but a real ebullition of genius and a token of all the good work that was to come." HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. _THE TIMES_.--"A story may have many and diverse effects upon its reader. It may leave him smiling, laughing, frowning (perhaps weeping), angry, perplexed, exalted, afraid. The bits of stories in _Here are Ladies_, the sketches, essays, snapshots, call them what you will, will leave him for the most part happy and hungry--for more." THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. _PUNCH_.--"A little gem.... It is a very long time indeed since we read such a human, satisfying book. Every page contains some happy phrase or illuminating piece of character drawing." SONGS FROM THE CLAY. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. _EVENING STANDARD_.--"They have the sense of elfin mischief and keen spiritual sympathy with inarticulate nature which is so recognisable a feature of all Mr. Stephens's writings, prose and verse. Many of the poems are models of that simplicity which is the supreme art of poesy, and in all may be found an underlying verity, masked may be with smiles or tears." MACMILLAN AND CO., LTD., LONDON. End of Project Gutenberg's The Adventures of Seumas Beg, by James Stephens *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SEUMAS BEG *** ***** This file should be named 37214.txt or 37214.zip ***** This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/2/1/37214/ Produced by Al Haines Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will be renamed. 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