! that I may never sin--but sure I know I will--for I'm a great
sinner--God forgive me!--but anyhow, that I may never sin, if I'm worth
the washin'! Oh! Jerry, darlin', sick a killin' day as we had I never
passed, an' I'm well accustomed to the mountains. Sure, now, Jerry, if
you have one spunk of common charity in your composition, you'll take me
up on your back and carry me home, otherwise I'll lie down on the road,
and either die at wanst or sleep it out till mornin'."

"But that's not tellin' me where you left Mr. M'Carthy," replied Jerry,
whose apprehensions were not at all lessened by this indirect and
circuitous answer. "Where is he, and what has become of him?"

"Of all the mists that ever riz out o' the airth, or fell from the
blessed heavens above as--glory be to the name of God! we had it on the
mountains this whole day. Why, now, Jerry, a happy death to me, but you
might cut it with a knife, at the very least, an' how we got through it,
I'm sure, barrin' the Providence of God, I dunna. But indeed we're far
from bein' worthy of the care He takes of us."

While speaking, he had, as an illustration of his fatigue, taken his
seat upon the grassy ditch, which bounded in the road, and altogether
enacted the part of a man completely broken down by over-exertion.

"But, Mogue, my pious creature, you're not tellin' us where you left--"

"Why, then, salvation to you, for one Jerry, do you think it's ait him
I did? Sound asleep in Frank Finnerty's I left him, where he'll be well
taken care of. Oh! thin, if ever a poor inoffensive young gintleman--for
sure he's that by birth, as we say, at all events, as well as by
larnin'--was brought to death's door with this day's work, he was. I
thought to flatther him home if he could come, but it was no go. An'
thin, agin, I thought it was a sin to ax' him; an' so for a afraid
they'd be alarmed at home, I was on my way to make all your minds aisy.
An' whisper hether, Jerry--not that I look upon Frank Finnerty an the
man he ought to be, for we all know the narrow escape he had for the
murder of Tom Whisky's son--still an' all, he's safe wid Finnerty,
bekaise he knows that we know where he is, and that if anything happened
him we'd hould him accountable."

"Well," replied Jerry, affecting a satisfaction which, however, he did
not feel, "I'm glad he's safe; for, as you say, Mogue, although Frank
Finnerty is pretty well known, still what could tempt him to harm Mr.
M'Carthy?"