THE LAKE OF SORROW
For three days Fionn had held a big feast at the Hill of Allen, but now the last of his guests had departed; and on this hot June night, as he lay on the cool grass under the wide-spreading chestnut tree, he thought how good and sweet the earth was after the heat and gaiety of the day. In quiet contentment he stretched his arms out over the grass, and turned his face upwards, so that he could see, through the trembling leaves above him, occasional glimpses of a brilliant moon circling through the heavens; and could feel, as the little breezes swept through the trees, the fading chestnut blooms fall softly on his face.
His famous hound, Bran, lay by his side, but suddenly she lifted her head slightly from her paws, and growled. Fionn lazily raised himself on one elbow, and looked round; but
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