employed for that purpose.

On the fourth day, after breakfast, and as Pat Sharpe--by which version
of his name he was sometimes addressed--was about to take away the
things, his guest entered into conversation with him as follows:

"Paudeen, my good friend, can you tell me where the wild, ragged fellow,
called Fenton, could be found?"

"I can, sir. Fenton? Begorra, you'd hardly know him if you seen him;
he's as smooth as a new pin--has a plain, daicent suit o' clothes on
him. It's whispered about among us this long time, that, if he had his
rights, he'd be entitled to a great property; and some people say now
that he has come into a part of it."

"And pray, what else do they say of him?"

"Wiry, then, I heard Father M'Mahon himself say that he had great
learnin', an' must a' had fine broughten-up, an' could, act the real
gintleman whenever he wished."

"Is it known who he is, or whether he is a native of this neighborhood?"

"No, sir; he doesn't belong to this neighborhood; an' the truth is,
that nobody here that ever I heard of knows anything at all, barrin'
guesswork, about the unfortunate poor creature. If ever he was a
gintleman," exclaimed the kind-hearted waiter, "he's surely to be
pitied, when one sees the state he's brought to."

"Well, Paudeen, will you fetch him to me, if you know where he is? Say I