red."

"That's one shillin' to every pound he has," replied Ellish, almost
instantaneously. "But, Father, you may as well spake out at wanst," she
continued, for she was too quick and direct in all her dealings to be
annoyed by circumlocution; "you're desairous of a match between Dan an'
Miss Granua?"

"Exactly," said the priest; "and what is more, I believe they are fond
of each other. I know Dan is attached to her, for he told me so.
But, now that we have mentioned her, I say that there is not a more
accomplished girl of her persuasion in the parish we sit in. She can
play on the bagpipes better than any other piper in the province, for
I taught her myself; and I tell you that in a respectable man's wife
a knowledge of music is a desirable thing. It's hard to tell, Mrs.
Connell, how they may rise in the World, and get into fashionable
company, so that accomplishments, you persave, are good, she can make a
shirt and wash it, and she can write Irish. As for dancing, I only wish
you'd see her at a hornpipe. All these things put together, along with
her genteel connections, and the prospect of what I may be able to lave
her--I say your son may do worse."

"It's not what you'd lave her, sir, but what you'd give her in the first
place, that I'd like to hear. Spake up, your Reverence, an' let us know
how far you will go."

"I'm afeard, sir," said Peter, "if it goes to a clane bargain atween
yez, that Ellish will make you bid up for Dan. Be sharp; sir, or you'll
have no chance; faix, you won't."

"But, Mrs. Connell;" replied the priest, "before I spake up, consider
her accomplishments. I'll undertake to say, that the best bred girl in
Dublin cannot perform music in such style, or on such an instrument as
the one she uses. Let us contemplate Dan and her after marriage, in an
elegant house, and full business, the dinner over, and they gone up to
the drawing-room. Think how agreeable and graceful it would be for Mrs.
Daniel O'Connell to repair to the sofa, among a few respectable friends,
and, taking up her bagpipes, set her elbow a-going, until the drone
gives two or three broken groans, and the chanter a squeak or two, like
a child in the cholic, or a cat that you had trampled on by accident.
Then comes the real ould Irish music, that warms the heart. Dan
looks upon her graceful position, until the tears of love, taste, and
admiration are coming down his cheeks. By and by, the toe of him moves:
here another foot is going