ringly projected beyond the sides of the nest, instead of
keeping lengthwise within it, as a respectable hen in her senses might
be expected to do. There certainly is a great amount of native vigor
shown by these untrained Hibernians in always finding an unexpected
wrong way of doing the simplest thing. It quite enlarges one's ideas
of human possibilities.

In a paroxysm of vexation, I reviled matrimony and Murphy O'Connor,
who had stolen our household treasure, and further expressed my
griefs, as elder sons are apt to do, by earnest expostulations
with the maternal officer on the discouraging state of things;
declaring most earnestly, morning, noon, and night, that all was
going to ruin, that everything was being spoiled, that nothing was
even decent, and that, if things went on so much longer, I should
be obliged to go out and board,--by which style of remark I nearly
drove that long-suffering woman frantic.

"Do be reasonable, Tom," said she. "Can I make girls to order? Can I
do anything more than try such as apply, when they seem to give
promise of success? Delicacy of hand, neatness, nicety of eye, are not
things likely to be cultivated in the Irish boarding-houses from which
our candidates emerge. What chance have the most of them had to learn
anything except the most ordinary rough housework? A trained girl is
rare as a nugget of gold amid the sands of the washings; but let us
persevere in trying, and one will come at last."

"Well, I hope, at any rate, you have sent off that Bridget," I said,
in high disdain. "I verily believe, if that girl stays a week longer,
I shall have to leave the house."

"Compose yourself," said my mother; "Bridget's bundle is made up, and
she is going. I'm sorry for her too, poor thing; for she seemed
anxious to keep the place."

At this moment the doorbell rang. "I presume that's the new girl whom
they have sent round for me to see," said my mother.

I opened the door, and there in fact stood a girl dressed in a
neat-fitting dark calico, with a straw bonnet, simply tied with some
dark ribbon, and a veil which concealed her face.

"Is Mrs. Seymour at home?"

"She is."

"I was told that she wanted a girl."

"She does; will you walk in?"

I pique myself somewhat on the power of judging character, and there
was something about this applicant which inspired hope; so that,
before I introduced her into the room, I felt it necessary to
enlighten my mother with a little of my wis