"Where the people toil like beasts in the field till their bones are strained and sore,
There the landlord waits, like the plumbless grave, calling out for more
Money to flounce his daughters' gowns or clothe his spouse's hide,
Money so that his sons can learn to gamble, shoot, and ride;
And for every debt of honour paid and for every dress and frill,
The blood of the peasant's wife and child goes out to meet the bill."
—From The Song of the Glen People.
I was nearly twelve years old when Dan, my youngest brother, died. It was in the middle of winter, and he was building a snow-man in front of the half-door when he suddenly complained of a pain in his throat. Mother put him to bed and gave him a drink of hot milk. She did not send for the doctor because there was no money in the house to pay the bill. Dan lay in bed all the evening and many of the neighbours came in to see him. Towards midnight I was sent to bed, but before going I heard my father ask mother if she thought that Dan would live till morning. I could not sleep, but kept turning over in the bed and praying to the Blessed Virgin to save my little brother. The new moon, sharp as a scythe, was peeping through the window of my room when my mother came to my bed and told me to rise and kiss Dan for the last time. She turned her face away as she spoke, and I knew that she was weeping. My brother was lying on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling with wide-staring eyes. A crimson flush was on his face and his breath pained him. I bent down and pressed his cheek. I was afraid, and the kiss made my lips burn like fire. The three of us then stood together and my father shook the holy water all over the room. All at once Dan sat up in the bed and gripped a tight hold of the blankets. I wanted to run out of the room but my mother would not let me.
"Are ye wantin' anything?" asked my father, bending over the bed, but there was no answer. My brother fell back on the bed and his face got very white.
"Poor Dan is no more," said my father, the tears coming out of his eyes. 'Twas the first time I ever saw him weeping, and I thought it very strange. My mother went to the window and opened it in order to let the soul of my brother go away to heaven.