FANELESS is a small town in the West of Ireland. Until a few months ago it enjoyed the blessings of peace combined with obscurity. Now it is almost as famous as Lourdes, though posterity must be left to decide whether its fame is fully merited or merely fictitious.

Faneless possessed from very ancient times two features of which its inhabitants were justly proud, although these did not enjoy any exceptional degree of renown save in its immediate vicinity. The first of them was its church. It was of great antiquity; and though a part of it had been destroyed by fire in the troublous times of the seventeenth century, more than half had remained almost in

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tact, and during the period of comparative tranquillity which followed the Catholic Emancipation, it had not only been restored by the munificence of private donors, but also considerably enlarged and beautified.

Amongst the many treasures that were collected from various parts of the country and reestablished in the place, whence they were believed to have been removed by the faithful and devoted adherents of the ancient Church into places of safety, or in a few rare cases torn by impious hands to adorn museums and collections of curios, were a statue of Our Lady and others of some of those saints who at one time shed lustre on the Irish race, and to whom that country

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owed the name by which it was known throughout the whole of civilised Europe.

But although these statues were revered by the parishioners of Faneless, and admired by lovers of art who came from long distances to see them, until a few months ago they were not generally famous.

And then there is the river: call it a stream if you will; for, after all, it is only a tributary flowing into a greater flood that bears its pure waters to the sea. But its ripples are clearer and more limpid than those of other streams: it rushes through the ancient town fresh from the mists and snows of the mountains; it dashes on its bright and brilliant way as if eager to perform its task of journeying to the ocean; at every twist and winding its youth is renewed as the eagle's that soared above the heights that it has left behind, and falls suddenly into the larger, calmer, darker, and more sluggish stream almost as if with regret that it had run its course so fast.

It is more than probableit is even certain-that from time immemorial the waters of this stream possessed healing properties of exceptional value; but as Faneless was far away from the highroads and beaten tracks, no fashionable physician had ever discovered its virtues, and no crowds crowds of wealthy invalids had conspired to disturb its primeval peace, or to exalt the sleepy township into a rival of Harrogate or Bath.

had been as little influenced by the feverish clamour of politics and the jarring clash of factions as they were undisturbed by the restless interests of the outer world. The peasantry respected and revered the neighbouring gentry, whose associations with the lands of their ancestors were so ancient that even in this country of long memories all trace of their origin was lost in the mists of the past. As friendly an understanding as could be desired obtained between all classes of the community, while Catholic tenant and Protestant landlord lived side by side on terms of the surest goodwill.

Then one day, in the middle of the hottest month of the summer, town and neighbourhood were electrified by the news of a murder in their midst.

The murdered man was a member of the Royal Irish Constabulary, and the indignation of the people was intensified by the fact that in his lifetime he had never held or paraded any violent political opinions, while in his dealings with them he had never been guilty of any injustice or severity.

The crime was accompanied by circumstances of unusual mystery. The constable's body

was found in an orchard in the very early hours of the summer morning by a cowman going to his work. A path ran through the orchard to the sheds where the cows were housed for the night; and the attention of the cowman, who was a sharp-eyed observant man and very intimately acquainted with the place, was drawn to something unusual that lay under an apple-tree almost hidden in the grass.

Approaching, he was startled on hearing a low groan and at the sight of a man lying there; but he could obtain no word from the sufferer, for it was clear that he was already unconscious. It followed that directly he ran for assistance and told his story, crowds of people gathered to the spot. The poor victim of the outrage was taken away to the hospital, where he died without having recovered consciousness. The grass was trampled down; every approach was trodden again and again by the impress of scores of feet, and all trace that there may have been of the assassin was almost entirely obliterated.

The nearest official centre to which information was sent and from which inquiry was instituted was some fifteen miles away, and when the authorities arrived arrived at least twelve hours had already intervened since the time of the murder. Bloodhounds were brought on to the scene, but proved pitifully ineffective to achieve any useful purpose.

They failed to get on to the scent of the criminal, and wasted much time in following false trails. One of them at last gave tongue, started off at great speed, and aroused the highest hopes in the breasts of his trainers, only to lead them with great celerity and skill to the hospital which had received the constable. The animal had been guided by scent not along the tracks of the criminal but of his victim. To add to their dismay, after they had been searching for an hour, the sullen clouds that had long brooded over this arena of tragedy burst suddenly, and floods of rain descended.

Some difficulty was caused, moreover, by the anxious impetuosity of the friends and relatives of the murdered man, who insisted at first on accompanying the agents of the law, and overwhelming them with counsel and advice, which, though intended with the utmost sincerity to help, only resulted in the creation of an additional hindrance.

A large measure of tact, combined with considerate firmness, succeeded ultimately in persuading the greater part of them to return to their homes. The widow alone could not be prevailed upon to leave them : she appeared unshakable in her resolution to persevere until the perpetrator of the deed should should be unmasked, or at least until some evidence should be disclosed which would lead to his apprehension.

It would seem that every inhabitant of the place who could possibly throw any light on the mystery was carefully and fully interrogated. Had the murdered man made any enemies? Had he any rivals or ill-wishers ? Was there anything against his reputation that could possibly provide a clue? No; he was everywhere well spoken of: spoken of: his conduct had always been reasonable and never provocatory. The upshot of it all was that he must have been murdered by some one who did not belong to that part of the country, who was actuated by some sinister motive, who had been carefully hidden prior to the act, and who had escaped, without being seen by any one, under cover of the favouring night.

The investigators departed therefore in the early hours of the following morning, wet through, weary and disappointed, without even having unearthed any clue likely to facilitate a solution.

For several days the excitement due to this incident put every other topic of local interest in the shade, but gradually the ferment died down, and ceased to occupy the minds of any but members of the Constabulary, and of the widow of the murdered man. She could never forget: and she plied her neighbours with such incessant questions, and protested so frequently and so openly, that the authorities

were lax in their researches and inquiries, and half-hearted in their endeavours to bring the malefactor to justice, that many began at last to suspect that the tragedy might have deprived her partially of reason.

One morning-it may have been a week or perhaps ten days after the occurrencethe parish priest was surprised to receive a visit from her as he was sitting in his private sanctum preparing a mixture of corn, egg-shells, beans, and potato-peelings for his hens; for the worthy father was a great poultry fancier, and his young fowls and fresh eggs were famous throughout three counties.

The priest received her with the courtly bearing that he had acquired many years before in the seminary of Douai, for he was one of the old school, who had received the larger Continental education that was the rule before Maynooth had achieved universal popularity among aspirants to the priesthood. Thus the poor woman was put entirely at her ease from the outset, a fact that may have been fortunate in its results, or the reverse. For the grace and sympathy with which he bowed her to a chair, after having removed a pile of heavy volumes to enable her to sit in it, and invited her to make herself at home, and to tell her story as naturally and as fully as she desired, dispelled all the qualms that she might have experienced in revealing her amazing tale.