From this time, the two became acquainted, and Fernando learned that the young Hibernian’s name was Terrence Malone.  Terrence was a true Irishman of the good old type.  He was brave as a lion, full of native wit and humor, and yet an intelligent gentleman.  From the first, he took a great fancy to Fernando and when he learned that he had come from the West to enter some academy or college, he informed him that he knew of the place—­the very place.  It was the Baltimore Academy.  He was a member of the Baltimore school himself and he was sure there was not another like it in the world.  In short, the dashing young Irishman soon persuaded Fernando to try the Baltimore school.

He went back to the tavern where he had left Sukey writing letters.

“What was all that catterwaulin’ and yellin’ about down at the river?” Sukey asked.

“The new steamboat began her trial trip,” answered Fernando.

“Wonder if that thing I saw with a stovepipe in it was a steamboat?”

“It was.”

Sukey shook his head sagely and remarked: 

“It don’t look as if it would ever amount to much.”

“Sukey, I have found a school for us at last.”

“Where?”

“At Baltimore.”

“What d’you want to go there for?”

“I met a young man who belongs there, and he advised us to go.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Terrence Malone, an Irishman.”

“That name’s not French any way.  How are we going to Baltimore?”

“A schooner sails to-morrow.”

“Can we go in her?”

“Yes.”

“Plague take the sea!  I never tried it, and I don’t want to.”

“It will be a short voyage.”

“Short, yes, but long enough to make me sick.  I don’t want to be in the game.  I am not a water dog.  Keep me on the dry land, and I’m all right.”

But Fernando knew that a journey by land would take much longer than by sea.  Terrence Malone came to see them that evening and informed them that the schooner would sail next day.  He was a jolly young fellow and had so many droll stories and jokes, that he kept his companions in a roar of laughter.  One joke followed another in such rapid succession that the youngsters had scarce done laughing at one, before he fired another at them.

“Baltimore is the most wonderful city in the world, barin Cork,” the fair-haired son of the Emerald Isle declared.  “There you find gallant gintlemen and the prettiest girls on earth.  Ah! if you could but see my Kitty Malone!  She’s a beauty, just a trifle older than mesilf, but every inch a darlint.  Her head is red, her face a trifle freckled, her body’s so stout that the girt of a mule wouldn’t encircle her waist,” and here Terrence winked, “She plays on the wash-board an illigant tune, for which she charges a half a dime a garment.”

“Did you ever meet with such a jolly fellow?” laughed Fernando when he was gone.