on and daughter-in-law.

All went well for a few years, for Patrick honored and loved his
father, and did all that he could to make him happy and comfortable.
But I am sorry to say that Mrs. Peggy never was very kind to him. With
her high notions, she rather looked down upon him than felt grateful to
him for being simple enough to give up all his property to his son.
Then she was selfish and violent tempered, and did not like "the bother
of an ould body like him about the cabin." Still, she bore with him,
for he made himself quite useful, mostly in taking care of the
children, especially of the oldest boy, Andy. This child was all the
comfort the old grandfather had. _He_ was always gentle and loving to
him, and made him as little trouble as possible. Sometimes, when the
poor old man was lying awake at night, grieving over the hard, scornful
treatment of his proud daughter-in-law, and praying God to take him to
a home of peace and love, where he would never be "in the way" any
more, little Andy would hear his low sobs, and go to him, creep close
to his desolate old heart, and whisper--

"Don't cry, gran'daddy--I love you wid all my heart, _avourneen_."

But the older and more feeble her father-in-law grew, the more unkindly
Mrs. Peggy treated him, till she made the cabin such a scene of
constant storm and confusion that everybody in it was wretched. At
last, old Mr. Walsh came to a resolution to put an end to all this
trouble. He would take to the road--that is, go a-begging. "The Lord
will take care of me," he said: "He who feeds the sparrows will put it
into the hearts of good Christians to give me all that I need."

Of course, Patrick was sad at the thought of his old father becoming a
mendicant; but he was a peaceable man and ruled by his wife; he was
tired of her scolding and complaints, and so, at last, consented.

As for Mrs. Peggy, she was very glad; she thought it was the best thing
the "ould body" could do, and set about making a beggar's bag for him
at once. He was to start the next morning.

Little Andy heard all the talk, but did not say any thing. He sat in a
corner, busily at work, sewing up his bib.

"What's that yer doing, Andy, darling?" said his father.

The child looked up at him sadly and reproachfully, and
answered,--"_Making a bag for you to go beg--when you're as old as
gran'daddy_."

Patrick Walsh burst into tears, flung his arms around his old father's
neck, and begged his f