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 Limerick, wnich bordered the river. Who was singing? Was it the spirit of the Shannon, was it some Lorelei calling to her sisters, or was it another Undine hungering for the love of a mortal, so that she might gain a soul? Higher and higher the voice soared, now a simple ballad, now a lullaby that might have been sung,

And hark, now is heard the well-known song of The Lass of Gowrie. One by one, the boats stopped under the shadow of the trees, everyone was listening, spellbound, not a whisper was heard. When the concluding words came,

"And now she's Lady Gowrie!"

a shake on the high notes, brilliant and ringing, rose on the evening air, like the thrill of an imprisoned nightingale. The audience could no longer remain silent, a burst of applause followed. Amongst the listeners on this momentous evening was the Hon. and Rev. Edmond Knox, Bishop of Limerick. He inquired who this wonderful singer was, and he found out that she was no fairy minstrel, but simply little Catherine Hayes, then barely ten years old. She had to sing. The birds had taught her, the murmur of the river had spoken to her, and her own soul, that stirred within her mightily.