[Footnote 10: A hill in the west of the County of Limerick, on the summit of which are the ruins of an old church, with a burying-ground still in use. The situation is exceedingly singular and bleak.] 'O sweet light of day! what is to become of me now?' thought the poor lad, as he lay on his back under the tomb. 'Is this to be the fruit of that unhappy present? Must I be dark for ever and ever? and am I never more to look upon that sweet countenance, that even in my blindness is not entirely shut out from me?' He would have said a great deal more in this way, and perhaps more pathetic still, but just then he heard a great mewing, as if all the cats in the world were coming up the hill together in one faction. He gathered himself up, and drew back under the stone, and remained quite still, expecting what would come next. In a very short time he heard all the cats purring and mewing about the yard, whisking over the tombstones, and playing all sorts of pranks among the graves. He felt the tails of one or two brush his nose; and well for him it was that they did not discover him there, as he afterwards found. At last-- 'Silence!' said one of the cats, and they were all as mute as so many mice in an instant. 'Now, all you cats of this great county, small and large, gray, red, yellow, black, brown, mottled, and white, attend to what I'm going to tell you in the name of your king and the master of all the cats. The sun is down, and the moon is up, and the night is silent, and no mortal hears us, and I may tell you a secret. You know the king of Munster's daughter?' 'O yes, to be sure, and why wouldn't we? Go on with your story,' said all the cats together. 'I have heard of her for one,' said a little dirty-faced black cat, speaking after they had all done, 'for I'm the cat that sits upon the hob of Owney and Owney-na-peak, the white-smiths, and I know many's the time young Owney does be talking of her, when he sits by the fire alone, rubbing me down and planning how he can get into her father's court.' 'Whist, you natural!' says the cat that was making the speech, 'what do you think we care for your Owney, or Owney-na-peak?' 'Murther, murther!' thinks Owney to himself, 'did anybody ever hear the aiqual of this?'