r for want of a
guiding hand; but no want, no absence of training, could ever destroy
its natural delicacy, nor prevent its fragrance from smelling sweet,
even in the neglected situation where it was left to pine and die.

There is little now to be added. "Time, the consoler," passes not in
vain even over the abodes of wretchedness and misery. The sufferings
of that year of famine we have endeavored to bring before those who may
have the power in their hands of assuaging the similar horrors which are
likely to visit this. The pictures we have given are not exaggerated,
but drawn from memory and the terrible realities of 1817.

It is unnecessary to add, that when sickness and the severity of winter
passed away, our lovers, Mave and young Condy Dalton, were happily
married, as they deserved to be, and occupied the farm from which the
good old man had been so unjustly expelled.

It was on the first social evening that the two families, now so happily
reconciled, spent together subsequent to the trial, that Bartle Sullivan
gratified them with the following account of his history:

"I remimber fightin'," he proceeded, "wid Condy on that night, an' the
devil's own _bulliah battha_ he was. We went into a corner of the field
near the Grey Stone to decide it. All at wanst I forgot what happened,
till I found myself lyin' upon a car wid the M'Mahons of Edinburg, that
lived ten or twelve miles beyant the mountains, at the foot of Carnmore.
They knew me, and good right they had, for I had been spakin' to their
sister Shibby, but she wasn't for me at the time, although I was ready
to kick my own shadow about her, God knows. Well, you see, I felt
disgraced at bein' beaten by Con Dalton, an I was fond of her, so what
'ud you have of us but off we went together to America, for you see she
promised to marry me if I'd go.

"They had taken me up on one of their carts, thinkin' I was dhrunk, to
lave me for safety in the next neighbor's house we came to. Well, she
an' I married when we got to Boston; but God never blessed us wid a
family; and Toddy here, who tuk the life of a pedlar, came back afther
many a long year, with a good purse, and lived with us. At last I began
to long for home, and so we all came together. The Prophet's wife was
wid us, an' another passenger tould me that Con here had been suspected
of murdherin' me. I got unwell in Liverpool, but I sent Toddy on before
me to make their minds aisy. As we wor talkin' over thes