"Och, och, Jimmy, avick, I'm tir'd out! We had betther give in; the
day's too hard, an' there's no use in standin' agin the weather that's
in it. Lave the ould villain to God, who he can't chate, any way."

"Well, may our curse go along wid the rest upon him, for dhrivin' us to
sich an unnatural spot as this! Hot an' heavy, into the sowl an'
marrow of him may it penethrate. An' sure that's no more than all the
counthry's wishin' him, whether or not--not to mintion the curses that's
risin' out o' the grave agin him, loud an' piercin'!"

"God knows it's not slavin' yourself on sich a day as this you'd be,
only for him. Had we kep our farm, you'd be now well an in your larnin'
for a priest--an' there 'ud be one o' the family sure to be a gintleman,
anyhow; but that's gone too, agra. Look at the smoke, how comfortable
it rises from Jack Sullivan's, where the priest has a Station to-day.
'Tisn't fishin' for a sthray pratie he is, upon a ridge like this. But
it can't be helped; an' God's will be done! Not himself!--faix, it's
he that'll get the height of good thratement, an' can ride home, well
lined, both inside an' outside. Much good may it do him!--'tis but his
right."

The lad now paused in his turn, looked down on Jack Sullivan's
comfortable house, sheltered by a clump of trees, and certainly saw
such a smoke tossed up from the chimney, as gave unequivocal evidence of
preparation for a good dinner. He next looked "behind the wind," with
a visage made more blank and meagre by the contrast; after which he
reflected for a few minutes, as if working up his mind to some sudden
determination. The deliberation, however, was short; he struck his open
hand upon the head of the spade with much animation, and instantly took