be too late."

Billy muttered a pious concurrence in the wish, and they rode along
for some time in silence. "There's the Bay of Belmullet now under your
feet," cried Billy, as he pulled up short, and pointed with his whip
seaward. "There's five fathoms, and fine anchoring ground on every inch
ye see there. There's elegant shelter from tempestuous winds. There's
a coast rich in herrings, oysters, lobsters, and crabs; farther out
there's cod, and haddock, and mackerel in the sayson. There's sea wrack
for kelp, and every other con-vanience any one can require; and a poorer
set of devils than ye 'll see when we get down there, there's nowhere to
be found. Well, well! 'if idleness is bliss, it's folly to work hard.'"
And with this paraphrase, Billy made way for the Colonel, as the
path had now become too narrow for two abreast, and in this way they
descended to the shore.

CHAPTER XV. A SICK BED

Although the cabin in which the sick boy lay was one of the best in the
village, its interior presented a picture of great poverty. It consisted
of a single room, in the middle of which a mud wall of a few feet
in height formed a sort of partition, abutting against which was the
bed,--the one bed of the entire family,--now devoted to the guest. Two
or three coarsely fashioned stools, a rickety table, and a still more
rickety dresser comprised all the furniture. The floor was uneven and
fissured, and the solitary window was mended with an old hat,--thus
diminishing the faint light which struggled through the narrow aperture.

A large net, attached to the rafters, hung down in heavy festoons
overhead, the corks and sinks dangling in dangerous proximity to the
heads underneath. Several spars and oars littered one corner, and
a newly painted buoy filled another; but, in spite of all these
encumbrances, there was space around the fire for a goodly company of
some eight or nine of all ages, who were pleasantly eating their supper
from a large pot of potatoes that smoked and steamed in front of them.

"God save all here!" cried Billy, as he preceded the Colonel into the
cabin.

"Save ye kindly," was the courteous answer, in a chorus of voices; at
the same time, seeing a gentleman at the door, the whole party arose
at once to receive him. Nothing could have surpassed the perfect
good-breeding with which the fisherman and his wife did the honors of
their humble home; and Harcourt at once forgot the poverty-struck aspect
of the sc