rits all that blessed morning, till I was fairly kilt with fatigue and
disappointment. Well, I was thinking of returning home again, when all at
once I felt something mortial heavy upon one of my lines. At first I
thought it was a big conger, but then I knew that no fish would hang so
dead upon my hand, so I hauled in with fear and thrembling, for I was
afeard every minnit my line or my hook would break, and at last I got my
prize to the top of the water, and then safe upon the gunnel of the
boat;--and what do you think it was?"

"In troth, Felix, sorra one of us knows."

"Well, then, it was nothing else but a little dirty black oak box, hooped
round with iron, and covered with say-weed and barnacles, as if it had
lain a long time in the water. 'Oh, ho!' says myself, 'it's in rale good
luck I am this beautiful morning. Phew! as sure as turf, 'tis full of
goold, or silver, or dollars, the box is.' For, by dad, it was so heavy
intirely I could scarcely move it, and it sunk my little boat a'most to
the water's edge; so I pulled back for bare life to the shore, and ran the
boat into a lonesome little creek in the rocks. There I managed somehow to
heave out the little box upon dry land, and, finding a handy lump of a
stone, I wasn't long smashing the iron fastenings, and lifting up the lid.
I looked in, and saw a weeshy ould weasened fellow sitting in it, with his
legs gothered up under him like a tailor. He was dressed in a green coat,
all covered with goold lace, a red scarlet waistcoat down to his hips, and
a little three-cornered cocked hat upon the top of his head, with a cock's
feather sticking out of it as smart as you plase.

"'Good morrow to you, Felix Donovan,' says the small chap, taking off his
hat to me, as polite as a dancing-masther.

"'Musha! then the tip top of the morning to you,' says I, 'it's ashamed of
yourself you ought to be, for putting me to such a dale of throuble.'

"'Don't mention it, Felix,' says he, 'I'll be proud to do as much for you
another time. But why don't you open the box, and let me out? 'tis many a
long day I have been shut up here in this could dark place.' All the time
I was only holding the lid partly open.

"'Thank you kindly, my tight fellow,' says myself, quite 'cute; 'maybe you
think I don't know you, but plase God you'll not stir a peg out of where
you are until you pay me for my throuble.'

"'Millia murdher!' says the little chap. 'What could a poor crather like
me have