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Once upon a time there lived in a little house under a hill a
little old woman and her two children, whose names were Connla and
Nora. Right in front of the door of the little house lay a pleasant
meadow, and beyond the meadow rose up to the skies a mountain whose
top was sharp-pointed like a spear. For more than halfway up it was
clad with heather, and when the heather was in bloom it looked like
a purple robe falling from the shoulders of the mountain down to
its feet. Above the heather it was bare and gray, but when the sun
was sinking in the sea, its last rays rested on the bare mountain
top and made it gleam like a spear of gold, and so the children
always called it the "Golden Spear." In summer days they gamboled
in the meadow, plucking the sweet wild grasses-and often and often
they clambered up the mountain side, knee deep in the heather,
searching for frechans and wild honey, and sometimes they found a
bird's nest-but they only peeped into it, they never touched the
eggs or allowed their breath to fall upon them, for next to their
little mother they loved the mountain, and next to the mountain
they loved the wild birds who made the spring and summer weather
musical with their songs.
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