in addition to many other blessings, god has given to us, gaels of the irish land, the priceless gift of humour, the saving grace of laughter. may we never lose them! they have been good friends to us in the days of darkness; let it be one of our duties to nurture and strengthen them in the brighter day that has already dawned in eirinn. throughout the land, in forge and workshop, in field and by fireside, there is many a ned mcgrane—witty, wise and laughter-loving—who has the power to pull aside the gloomy curtains of melancholy and moodiness and to pour into the hearts of all who will listen to him the sunshine of merriment and mirth, while never saying a word that would offend the most sensitive ear or leave a bad impression on the most susceptible mind. in this, as in a thousand other ways, we differ from the enemy that is still within our gates. his best humour is coarse or smutty, his heartiest laughter is jarring and hurtful, his outlook on life is very different to that of the genial blacksmith of balnagore. god speed the day when the smutty wit of the sasanach shall be heard no longer in our land, when the laughter of the open-hearted, clean-minded gael shall ring from end to end of eirinn, lighting every mind, lifting up every heart, and softening for all who have suffered the memory of those sadder days that they have known.

brian o huiginn.

samhain, 1917.