ll do it for me, and that's betther still."

"No more about that, Molly--not a word more. Your long residence with my
poor mother, and your affection for her in all her trials and troubles,
entitle you to more than that at the hands of her son."

"Mrs. Buckley," observed Fergus, "this is a quiet-looking little place
you have here."

"And it is for that I like it," she replied. "I have pace here, and the
noise of the wicked world seldom reaches me in it. My only friend and
companion here is the Almighty--praise and glory be to his name!"--and
here she devoutly crossed herself--"bar-rin', indeed, when the
light-hearted _girshas_ (young girls) comes _a kailyee_* wid their
wheels, to keep the poor ould woman company, and rise her ould heart by
their light and merry songs, the cratures."

*This means to spend a portion of the day, or a few hours of
the night, in a neighbor's house, in agreeable and amusing
conversation.

"That must be a relief to you, Molly," observed Reilly, who, however,
could with difficulty take any part in this little dialogue.

"And so indeed it is," she replied; "and, poor things, sure if their
sweethearts do come at the dusk to help them to carry home their
spinning-wheels, who can be angry with them? It's the way of life, sure,
and of the world."

She then went into another little room--for the cabin was divided into
two--in order to find a ball of woollen thread, her principal occupation
being the knitting of mittens and stockings, and while bustling about
Fergus observed with a smile,

"Poor Molly! little she thinks that it's the bachelors, rather than any
particular love for her company, that brings the thieves here."

"Yes, but," said Reilly, "you know it's the custom of the country."

"Mrs. Buckley," asked Fergus, "did the sogers ever pay you a visit?"

"They did once," she replied, "about six months ago or more."

"What in the name of wondher," he repeated, "could bring them to you?"

"They were out huntin' a priest," she replied, "that had done something
contrary to the law."

"What did they say, Mrs. Buckley, and how did they behave themselves?"

"Why," she answered, "they axed me if I had seen about the country a
tight-looking fat little man, wid black twinklin' eyes and a rosy face,
wid a pair o' priest's boots upon him, greased wid hog's lard? I said
no, but to the revarse. They then searched the cabin, tossed the two
beds about--poor Jemmy's--God rest my b