u wor dead tomorrow he'd be mistaken for you--your born
image--the sorra thing else--eh alanna--the Lord loves my son--faix,
you've daddy's nose upon you anyhow--an' his chin to a turn. Oh, thin,
Fardorougha, but there's many a couple rowlin' in wealth that 'ud be
proud to have the likes of him; an' that must die an' let it all go
to strangers, or to them that doesn't care about them, 'ceptin' to get
grabbin' at what they have, that think every day a year that they're
above the sod. What! manim-an--kiss your child, man alive. That I may
never, but he looks at the darlin' as if it was a sod of turf. Throth
you're not worthy of havin' such a bully."

Fardorougha, during this dialogue, held the child in his arms and
looked upon it earnestly as before, but without betraying any visible
indication of countenance that could enable a spectator to estimate the
nature of what passed within him. At length there appeared in his eye a
barely perceptible expression of benignity, which, however, soon passed
away, and was replaced by a shadow of gloom and anxiety. Nevertheless,
in compliance with the commands of the midwife, he kissed its lips,
after which the servants all gathered round it, each lavishing upon the
little urchin those hyperbolical expressions of flattery, which, after
all, most parents are willing to receive as something approximating to
gospel truth.

"Bedad," said Nogher, "that fellow 'ill be the flower o' the Donovans,
if God spares him--be goxty, I'll engage he'll give the purty girls many
a sore heart yet--he'll play the dickens wid 'em, or I'm not here--a
wough! do you hear how the young rogue gives tongue at that? the sorra
one o' the shaver but knows what I'm savin'."

Nogher always had an eye to his own comfort, no matter under what
circumstances he might be placed. Having received the full glass, he
grasped his master's hand, and in the usual set phrases, to which,
however, was added much extempore matter of his own, he drank the baby's
health, congratulating the parents, in his own blunt way, upon this
accession to their happiness. The other servants continued to pour
out their praises in terms of delight and astonishment at his
accomplishments and beauty, each, in imitation of Nogher, concluding
with a toast in nearly the same words.

How sweet from all other lips is the praise of those we love!
Fardorougha, who, a moment before, looked upon his infant's face with an
unmoved countenance, felt incapable