le. Yet
I noticed that when, at sunset, he accompanied Bridget to the spring
for water, ostentatiously flourishing the empty bucket in his hand,
when they returned in the gloaming Bridget was carrying the water, and
my friend, the Tramp, was some paces behind her, cheerfully
"colloguing," and picking blackberries.

At seven the next morning he started in cheerfully to work. At nine,
A. M., he had placed three large stones on the first course in
position, an hour having been spent in looking for a pick and hammer,
and in the incidental "chaffing" with Bridget. At ten o'clock I went
to overlook his work; it was a rash action, as it caused him to
respectfully doff his hat, discontinue his labors, and lean back
against the fence in cheerful and easy conservation. "Are you fond uv
blackberries, Captain?" I told him that the children were in the habit
of getting them from the meadow beyond, hoping to estop the suggestion
I knew was coming. "Ah, but, Captain, it's meself that with wanderin'
and havin' nothin' to pass me lips but the berries I'd pick from the
hedges,--it's meself knows where to find thim. Sure, it's yer childer,
and foine boys they are, Captain, that's besaching me to go wid 'em to
the place, known'st only to meself." It is unnecessary to say that he
triumphed. After the manner of vagabonds of all degrees, he had
enlisted the women and children on his side--and my friend, the Tramp,
had his own way. He departed at eleven and returned at four, P. M.,
with a tin dinner-pail half filled. On interrogating the boys it
appeared that they had had a "bully time," but on cross-examination it
came out that THEY had picked the berries. From four to six, three more
stones were laid, and the arduous labors of the day were over. As I
stood looking at the first course of six stones, my friend, the Tramp,
stretched his strong arms out to their fullest extent and said: "Ay,
but it's worruk that's good for me; give me worruk, and it's all I'll
be askin' fur."

I ventured to suggest that he had not yet accomplished much.

"Wait till to-morror. Ah, but ye'll see thin. It's me hand that's yet
onaisy wid brick-makin' and sthrange to the shtones. An ye'll wait
till to-morror?"

Unfortunately I did not wait. An engagement took me away at an early
hour, and when I rode up to my cottage at noon my eyes were greeted
with the astonishing spectacle of my two boys hard at work laying the
courses of the stone wall, assist