f
his hire; and a good laborer of good hire. Let him have four shillings a
week additional."

"Troth, your honor, 'am no sayin' but he weel deserves it; but, Lord
haud a care o' us, he's a queer one, yon."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"Why, de'il heat he seems to care about siller any mair than if it was
sklate stains. On Saturday last, when he was paid his weekly wages by
the steward, he met a puir sickly-lookin' auld wife, wi' a string o'
sickly-looking weans at the body's heels; she didna ask him for charity,
for, in troth, he appeared, binna it wearna for the weans, as great an
objeck as hersel'; noo, what wad yer honor think? he gaes ower and gies
till her a hale crown o' siller out o' his ain wage. Was ever onything
heard like yon?"

"Well, I know the cause of it, Malcomson. He's under a penance, and can
neither shave nor change his dress till his silly penance is out; and
I suppose it was to wash off a part of it that he gave this foolish
charity to the poor woman and her children. Come, although I condemn the
folly of it, I don't like him the worse for it."

"Hout awa', your honor, what is it but rank Papistry, and a dependence
upon filthy works. The doited auld carl, to throw aff his siller that
gate; but that's Papistry a' ower--substituting works for grace and
faith--a' Papistry, a' Papistry! Well, your honor, I sal be conform to
your wushes--it's my duty, that."

CHAPTER XVII.--Awful Conduct of Squire Folliard

--Fergus Reilly begins to Contravene the Red Rapparee

After Malcomson quitted him, the squire, with his golden-headed cane,
went to saunter about his beautiful grounds and his noble demesne,
proud, certainly, of his property, nor insensible to the beautiful
scenery which it presented from so many points of observation. He
had not been long here when a poor-looking peasant, dressed in shabby
frieze, approached him at as fast a pace as he could accomplish; and the
squire, after looking at him, exclaimed, in an angry tone:

"Well, you rascal, what the devil brings you here?"

The man stood for a little, and seemed so much exhausted and out of
breath that he could not speak.

"I say, you unfortunate old vagrant," repeated the squire, "what brought
you here?"

"It is a case of either life or death, sir," replied the poor peasant.

"Why," said the squire, "what crime did you commit? Or, perhaps, you
broke prison, and are flying from the officers of justice; eh! is that
it? And you co