The grasshopper [loudly].  X.X.X.

The man.  Three cheers for ould Ireland, is it?  That helps you to face out the misery and the poverty and the torment, doesn’t it?

The grasshopper [plaintively].  X.X.

The man.  Ah, it’s no use, me poor little friend.  If you could jump as far as a kangaroo you couldn’t jump away from your own heart an its punishment.  You can only look at Heaven from here:  you can’t reach it.  There! [pointing with his stick to the sunset] that’s the gate o glory, isn’t it?

The grasshopper [assenting].  X.X.

The man.  Sure it’s the wise grasshopper yar to know that!  But tell me this, Misther Unworldly Wiseman:  why does the sight of Heaven wring your heart an mine as the sight of holy wather wrings the heart o the divil?  What wickedness have you done to bring that curse on you?  Here! where are you jumpin to?  Where’s your manners to go skyrocketin like that out o the box in the middle o your confession [he threatens it with his stick]?

The grasshopper [penitently].  X.

The man [lowering the stick].  I accept your apology; but don’t do it again.  And now tell me one thing before I let you go home to bed.  Which would you say this counthry was:  hell or purgatory?

The grasshopper.  X.

The man.  Hell!  Faith I’m afraid you’re right.  I wondher what you and me did when we were alive to get sent here.

The grasshopper [shrilly].  X.X.

The man [nodding].  Well, as you say, it’s a delicate subject; and
I won’t press it on you.  Now off widja.

The grasshopper.  X.X. [It springs away].

The man [waving his stick] God speed you! [He walks away past the stone towards the brow of the hill.  Immediately a young laborer, his face distorted with terror, slips round from behind the stone.

The laborer [crossing himself repeatedly].  Oh glory be to God! glory be to God!  Oh Holy Mother an all the saints!  Oh murdher! murdher! [Beside himself, calling Fadher Keegan!  Fadher Keegan]!

The man [turning].  Who’s there?  What’s that? [He comes back and finds the laborer, who clasps his knees] Patsy Farrell!  What are you doing here?

Patsy.  O for the love o God don’t lave me here wi dhe grasshopper.  I hard it spakin to you.  Don’t let it do me any harm, Father darlint.

Keegan.  Get up, you foolish man, get up.  Are you afraid of a poor insect because I pretended it was talking to me?

Patsy.  Oh, it was no pretending, Fadher dear.  Didn’t it give three cheers n say it was a divil out o hell?  Oh say you’ll see me safe home, Fadher; n put a blessin on me or somethin [he moans with terror].