Now Phil Purcel, whom we will introduce more intimately to the reader by
and by, was the son of a man who always kept a pig.

His father's house had a small loft, to which the ascent was by a
step-ladder through a door in the inside gable. The first good thing
ever Phil was noticed for he said upon the following occasion. His
father happened to be called upon, one morning before breakfast, by his
landlord, who it seems occasionally visited his tenantry to encourage,
direct, stimulate, or reprove them, as the case might require. Phil was
a boy then, and sat on the hob in the corner, eyeing the landlord and
his father during their conversation. In the mean time the pig came in,
and deliberately began to ascend the ladder with an air of authority
that marked him as one in the exercise of an established right. The
landlord was astonished at seeing the animal enter the best room in the
house and could not help expressing his surprise to old Purcel:

"Why, Purcel, is your pig in the habit of treating himself to the
comforts of your best room?"

"The pig is it, the crathur? Why, your haner," said Purcel, after a
little hesitation, "it sometimes goes up of a mornin' to waken the
childhre, particularly when the buckwhist happens to be late. It doesn't
like to be waitin'; and sure none of us likes to be kept from the male's
mate, your haner, when we want it, no more than it, the crathur!"

"But I wonder your wife permits so filthy an animal to have access to
her rooms in this manner."

"Filthy!" replied Mrs. Purcel, who felt herself called upon to defend
the character of the pig, as well as her own, "why, one would think,
sir, that any crathur that's among Christyen childhre, like one o'
themselves, couldn't be filthy. I could take it to my dyin' day, that
there's not a claner or dacenter pig in the kingdom, than the same pig.
It never misbehaves, the crathur, but goes out, as wise an' riglar, jist
by a look, an' that's enough for it, any day--a single look, your haner,
the poor crathur!"

"I think," observed Phil, from the hob, "that nobody has a betther right
to the run of the house, whedher up stairs or down stairs, _than him
that pays the rint_."

"Well said, my lad!" observed the landlord, laughing at the quaint
ingenuity of Phil's defence. "His payment of the rent is the best
defence possible, and no doubt should cover a multitude of his errors."

"A multitude of his shins, you mane, sir," said Phil, "for thruth