Excerpt from The Middle Years There were funeral airs over those days after the death of Mr. Parnell. I have never been able to look at white chrysanthemums since without seeing a grave. It was autumn, and winter weather in the world and in our hearts. Sheep without a shepherd when the sw shuts out the sky - that was what we were; and all we could do was to render pious offices to the dead. There was a ladies' committee to keep the grave. How well I remember going up to Glasnevin of a late autumn afteron with a burden of flowers. By the grave itself one was t afraid, but once, as I left the cemetery with one companion, and that a woman, in the gathering dusk I was scared by a small tap-tapping down the long avenues of the dead. It was like the withered leaves which follow you down a dark road on an autumn afteron, pitter-patter, like the tiny feet of little ghosts. There was really something following - a folded MS. which had fallen from a pocket of my cloak and held on by my skirt. We were t in favour with the heads of the Catholic Church in those days. For some of us it was a poignant difference: ne of us liked it. But it gave, perhaps, the final touch of exaltation to our devotion. All were t so brave as we were. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art techlogy to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.