am now, however, at the end of my rovin's,'" read the child, "'an'
you'll be glad to hear that I am just afther gettin' married to a very
nice young lady, with a good bit o' money of her own. I have also
contrived to save a tol'rable sum, an' am now lookin' forward to a
life of contentment an' prosperity in the company of my bride.'"

"That's Larry," exclaimed Mrs. Brophy with conviction. "That's
himself--the very turn of him. He always had that fashion, ye know, of
pickin' out them grand words. I could tell 'twas him the very minit
she began, God bless him."

"'My fond memory, however, turns to them that in the days of my
childhood was the same as a father an' a mother to me. I made sure
that yous must both be under the daisy-quilt, an' me first thought was
to send some money to the reverend gentleman, whoever he may be,
that's parish priest in Clonkeen now, an' ax him to put up a rale
handsome monument over your remains; but by the greatest good fortune
I came across poor Bill Kinsella not long sence, an' he tould me yous
were to the fore, an' not a sign o' dyin' on yous yet.'"

"Look at that now," cried Mrs. Kinsella, with shrill glee; "sure
that's me own first cousin's son that went over beyant a couple of
years ago. Well, now to think--"

"Ah, for goodness' sake, let's hear the end of the letther," cried Dan
and his wife together, both violently excited.

"'Me an' me wife both feels,' went on Maggie, 'that we couldn't rest
happy unless we made sure that yous ended your days in peace and
comfort. This is a big house and a comfortable place, with room an' to
spare for the two of yous, and you'll get the warmest of welcomes from
nephew and niece. So I am sendin' you the price of your journey, with
maybe a few dollars over, for fear you should come short, an' I hope
you'll come out by the next boat, for there isn't much time to spare,
an' you'll be gettin' too old for travellin'. I will say no more this
time, my dear uncle and aunt, but _cead mille failthe_ from your
affectionate La'rence Kearney."

"Sure it isn't across the say he wants us to go," cried Dan in dismay;
"is it to America?"

"God bless him!" exclaimed the wife, with fervour; "it's him that
always had the good heart. To think of him plannin' an' contrivin'
everythin' that way, even to the monyement."

"I wonder," said Dan regretfully, "what sort of a monyement at all
he'd have put over us? 'Pon me word it 'ud have looked elegant
beyant."

"Wo