made little children leap joyously in San Jose Sharks Jersey their mothers' arms. The knell of parting sounded insistent. "Your allegory seems turning in your favor, Raphael," said Esther, with a sudden memory. The pensive smile that made her face beautiful lit up the dark eyes. "What allegory is that of Raphael's?" said Strelitski, reflecting her smile on his graver visage. "The long one in his prize poem?" "No," said Raphael, catching the contagious smile. "It is our little secret." Strelitski turned suddenly to look at the emigrants. The smile faded from his quivering mouth. The last moment had come. Raphael stooped down towards the gentle softly-flushing face, which was raised unhesitatingly to meet his, and their lips met in a first kiss, diviner than it is given most mortals to know--a kiss, sad and sweet, troth and parting in one: _Ave et vale_--hail and farewell." "Good-bye, Strelitski," said Raphael huskily. "Success to your dreams." The idealist turned round with a start. His face was bright and resolute; the black curl streamed buoyantly on the breeze. "Good-bye," he responded, with a giant's grip of the hand. "Success to your hopes." Raphael darted away with his long stride. The sun was still bright, but for a moment everything seemed chill and dim to Esther Ansell's vision. With a sudden fit of nervous foreboding she stretched out her arms towards the vanishing figure of her lover. But she saw him once again in the tender, waving his handkerchief towards the throbbing vessel that glided with its freight of hopes and dreams across the great waters towards the New World. PrefaceTHE HOSTING OF THE SIDHEThe host is riding from Knocknarea,And over the grave of Clooth-na-bare;Caolte tossing his burning hair,And Niamh Martin Havlat Jersey calling, "Away, come away;Empty your heart of its mortal dream.The winds awaken, the Antti Niemi Jersey leaves whirl round,Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,Our breasts are heaving, our eyes are a-gleam,Our arms are waving, our lips are apart,And if any gaze on our rushing band,We come between him and the deed of his hand,We come between him and the hope of his heart."The host is rushing 'twixt night and day;And where is there hope or deed as fair?Caolte tossing his burning hair,And Niamh calling, "Away, come away."Chapter 1THIS BOOKII have desired, like every artist, to create a little world out of the beautiful, pleasant, and significant things of this marred and clumsy world, and to show in a vision something of the face of Ireland to any of my Jonathan Cheechoo Jersey own people who would look where I bid them. I have therefore written down accurately and candidly much that I have heard and seen, and, except by way of commentary, nothing that I have merely imagined. I have, however, been at no pains to separate my own beliefs from those of the peasantry, but have rather let my men and women, dhouls and faeries, go their way unoffended or defended by any argument of mine. The things a