They did, indeed. It is recorded that they killed prisoners but they were no better nor worse than the English. Mr. O’Halloran can’t lie. He’s the headmaster. All these years we were told the Irish were always noble and they made brave speeches before the English hanged them. Now Hoppy O’Halloran is saying the Irish did bad things. Next thing he’ll be saying the English did good things. He says,You have to study and learn so that you can make up your own mind about history and everything else but you can’t make up an empty mind. Stock your mind, stock your mind. It is your house of treasure and no one in the world can interfere with it. If you won the Irish Sweepstakes and bought a house that needed furniture would you fill it with bits and pieces of rubbish? Your mind is your house and if you fill it with rubbish from the cinemas it will rot in your head.You might be poor, your shoes might be broken, but your mind is a palace. He calls us one by one to the front of the room and looks at our shoes. He wants to know why they’re broken or why we have no shoes at all. He tells us this is a disgrace and he’s going to have a raffle to raise money so that we can have strong warm boots for the winter. He gives us books of tickets and we swarm all over Limerick for Leamy’s School boot fund, first prize five pounds, five prizes of a pound each. Eleven boys with no boots get new boots. Malachy and I don’t get any because we have shoes on our feet even if the soles are worn away and we won- der why we ran all over Limerick selling tickets so that other boys could get boots. Fintan Slattery says we gain plenary Indulgences for works of charity and Paddy Clohessy says, Fintan, would you ever go and have a good shit for yourself. I know when Dad does the bad thing. I know when he drinks the dole money and Mam is desperate and has to beg at the St.Vincent de Paul Society and ask for credit at Kathleen O’Connell’s shop but I don’t want to back away from him and run to Mam. How can I do that when I’m up with him early every morning with the whole world asleep? He lights the fire and makes the tea and sings to himself or reads the paper to me in a whisper that won’t wake up the rest of the family. Mikey Molloy stole Cuchulain, the Angel on the Seventh Step is gone some- place else, but my father in the morning is still mine. He gets the Irish Press  early and tells me about the world, Hitler, Mussolini, Franco. He 208