O Scarlet hunter, riding past, O hunter, do not ride so fast, But tell me where's my mother?-- "Nay, child, why dost thou ask of me? Safe by the hearth should mothers be, And thine like any other." --While I was playing on the floor Deep in a hollow near the door I found a shining cap laid by. My mother gave a piercing cry, And snatched it up and fled away.... Though I have sought her all the day, I cannot find my mother.-- --O woman with the milking stool, Standing among the grasses cool, Hast thou not seen my mother?-- "What like is thy mother, lad?" --A striped petticoat she had, Her snooded hair is soft as silk, She's whiter in the face than milk, My lost, sweet mother!-- "I saw a poor mad thing go down By yonder highway to the town, I saw none other. But, oh, her hair was streaming wild, Sure, frenzy was upon her, child, And she was not thy mother." --O friar, in thy long rough gown, Say in what corner of the town I'll find my mother.-- "What is thy mother's name, poor boy?" --My father always called her Joy.-- "It hath the ring of Heathenesse, But to all creatures in distress Lord Christ is Brother. In the church-yard an hour ago I saw a witch-girl crouching low, But oh, she fell to weeping sore For that she feared the cross I wore. I'll dry thy tears and lead thee home, Good mothers have no wish to roam." --Nay, I must find my mother.-- --O fisher, coming in from sea, Lay by the oar and answer me, O hast thou seen my mother?-- "Nay, but I saw, upon my life, 'Mong yonder rocks a merrow wife With long locks gleaming in the sun. She saw the billows shoreward run, She heard the splashing of my oar, Wildly she glanced along the shore, She flung her foam-white arms on high, She cried a weird and wailing cry, And leaped and vanished in the sea. I crossed the brow and breast of me, And thanked the Maker of my life That I've a christened maid to wife." PATSY MORAN THE BOOK AND ITS COVERS [Illustration] BY ARTHUR SULLIVAN HOFFMAN ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAITLAND THOMAS "Adventure, is it?" said Patsy, pushing his empty glass away from him. "What happened me last night would be makin' a adventure seem like grass growin' in a cimitery!" From the other side of the table, in their own particular corner of the back room at Devinsky's Place on the Upper East Side, Tim regarded his friend with characteristic stolidity and replied with a grunt of interrogatory interest. Patsy seldom needed urging in the matter of talking about himself.