please.) Who knows but you'll
be able to say mass for me or some o' my family yit. God grant that, any
way, avick!"

Poor James's heart was too full to eat much; he took, therefore, only
a very slender portion of the refreshments set before him; but his
hospitable entertainer had no notion of permitting him to use the free
exercise of his discretion on this important point. When James put away
the knife and fork, as an indication of his having concluded the meal,
the farmer and his wife turned about, both at the same moment, with a
kind of astonishment.

"Eh? is it giving over that way you are? Why, alanna, it's nothin' at
all you've tuck; sure little Brian there would make a fool of you, so
he would, at the atin'. Come, come, a bouchal--don't be ashamed, or make
any way sthrange at all, but ate hearty."

"I declare I have ate heartily, thank you," replied James; "oceans
itself, so I did. I couldn't swally a bit more if the house was full."

"Arrah, Brian," said the wife, "cut him up more o' that hung beef, it's
ashamed the crathur is! Take it, avick; don't we know the journey you
had! Faix, if one o' the boys was out on a day's thravellin', you'd see
how he'd handle himself."

"Indeed," said James, "I can't--if I could I would. Sure I would be no
way backward at all, so I wouldn't."

"Throth, an' you can an' must," said the farmer: "the never a rise
you'll rise, till you finish that"--putting over a complement out of all
reasonable proportion with his age and size.

"There now's a small taste, an' you must finish it. To go to ate nothin'
at all! Hut tut! by the tops o' my boots, you must put that clear an'
clane out o' sight, or I'll go mad an' barn them."

The lad recommenced, and continued to eat as long as he could possibly
hold out; at length he ceased:--

"I can't go on," said he; "don't ax me: I can't indeed."

"Bad manners to the word I'll hear till you finish it; you know it's but
a thrifle to spake of. Thry agin, avick, but take your time; you'll be
able for it."

The poor lad's heart was engaged on other thoughts and other scenes; his
home, and its beloved inmates--sorrow and the gush of young affections,
were ready to burst forth.

"I cannot ate," said he, and he looked imploringly on the farmer and his
wife, whilst the tears started to his eyes--"don't ax me, for my heart's
wid them I left behind me, that I may never see agin!" and he wept in a
burst of grief which he could not restrain.

N