The Hermit of the Grove
“What do you think of the weather?” said Padna Dan to Micus Pat, as he leaned over the half-door, and looked up at the sky.
“Oh,” said Micus, as he struck a match on the heel of his shoe, “I think we will have a fine day, that’s if it don’t either rain or snow. And snow and rain inself is better than a drought, that would parch the whole countryside, and bleach every blade of grass in the fields as white as linen.”
“The two things in life you can never depend on,” said Padna, “are women and the weather. But as the hermit of Deirdre’s Grove said to me the other day, when I happened upon him as he was strolling about looking for something he never lost: ‘Every season,’ ses he, ‘has its own particular charm, and we all have our faults as well as our virtues.’
“And what kind of a man was he at all, to be looking for something he never lost?” said Micus.
“He was a man just like one of ourselves. Sure that’s what we all do, from the day we open our eyes until we close them again upon the world,” said Padna.
“I never knew that there was a hermit in Deirdre’s Grove,” said Micus.
“Neither did I,” said Padna, “until one day last week when I went looking for hazel-nuts for the grandchildren, and I came upon a man of strange appearance, and he with long flowing beard, dark black curly hair, and a physique surpassing anything I have seen for many a day. His general demeanour was very impressive indeed, and a kindly look lit up his well-chiseled face. As I approached him, I wondered what manner of man he was, but he was first to break the silence. And what he said was: ‘Good morrow, stranger,’ ses he.
“‘Good morrow and good luck,’ ses I.
“‘May the blessing of God be with you,’ ses he.