backward and forward, sometimes uttering indistinct ejaculations
and broken sentences, such as no one could understand. At length he
approached his own servants, and addressed the messenger whose name was
Nogher M'Cormick.

"Nogher," said he, "I'm throubled."

"Throubled! dad, Fardorougha, you ought to be a happy and a thankful man
this night, that is, if God sinds the misthress safe over it, as I hope
He will, plase goodness."

"I'm poor, Nogher, I'm poor, an' here's a family comin'."

"Faith, take care it's not sin you're com-mittin' by spakin' as you're
doin'."

"But you know I'm poor, Nogher."

"But I know you're _not_, Fardorougha; but I'm afraid, if God hasn't
said it, your heart's too much fix'd upon the world. Be my faix, it's
on your knees you ought to be this same night, thankin' the Almighty for
His goodness, and not grumblin' an' sthreelin' about the place, flyin'
in the face of God for sendin' you an' your wife ablessin'--for sure I
hear the Scripthur says that all childhres a blessin' if they're
resaved as sich; an' wo be to the man, says Scripthur, dat's born wid a
millstone about his neck, especially if he's cast into the say. I know
you pray enough, but, be my sowl, it hasn't improved your morals, or
it's the misthress' health we'd be drinkin' in a good bottle o' whiskey
at the present time. Faix, myself wouldn't be much surprised if she had
a hard twist in consequence, an' if she does, the fault's your own an'