used to
sweet milk, so she said:

"Mammy, won't you give me some of the nice milk instead of that?"

"I haven't it _asthore_, nor can't get it," said her mother, "so don't
ye fret."

Not a word more out of the little one's mouth, only she turned her
little cheek in toward her mother, and staid quite quiet, as if she was
hearkening to what was going on.

"Judy," said my father, "God is good, and sure 'tis only in Him we must
put our trust; for in the wide world I can see nothing but starvation
before us."

"God _is_ good, Tim," replied my mother; "He won't forsake us."

Just then Richard came in with a more joyful face than I had seen on him
for many a day.

"Good news!" says he, "good news, father! there's work for us both on
the Droumcarra road. The government works are to begin there to-morrow;
you'll get eight-pence a day, and I'll get six-pence."

If you saw our delight when we heard this, you'd think 'twas the free
present of a thousand pounds that came to us, falling through the roof,
instead of an offer of small wages for hard work.

To be sure the potatoes were gone, and the yellow meal was dear and dry
and chippy--it hadn't the _nature_ about it that a hot potato has for a
poor man; but still 'twas a great thing to have the prospect of getting
enough of even that same, and not to be obliged to follow the rest of
the country into the poor-house, which was crowded to that degree that
the crathurs there--God help them!--hadn't room even to die quietly in
their beds, but were crowded together on the floor like so many dogs in
a kennel. The next morning my father and Richard were off before
daybreak, for they had a long way to walk to Droumcarra, and they should
be there in time to begin work. They took an Indian meal cake with them
to eat for their dinner, and poor dry food it was, with only a draught
of cold water to wash it down. Still my father, who was knowledgeable
about such things, always said it was mighty wholesome when it was well
cooked; but some of the poor people took a great objection against it on
account of the yellow color, which they thought came from having sulphur
mixed with it--and they said, Indeed it was putting a great affront on
the decent Irish to mix up their food as if 'twas for mangy dogs. Glad
enough, poor creatures, they were to get it afterward, when sea-weed and
nettles, and the very grass by the roadside, was all that many of them
had to put into their mouths.

When m