‘Who calls Larry?’ says I.

‘My Lord Colambre calls you, Larry,’ says all at once; and four takes me by the shoulders and spins me round.  ’There’s my young lord calling you, Larry—­run for your life.’

So I run back for my life, and walked respectful, with my hat in my hand, when I got near.

’Put on your hat, my father desires it, says my Lord Colambre.  The ould lord made a sign to that purpose, but was too full to speak.  ’Where’s your father?’ continues my young lord.—­’ He’s very ould, my lord,’ says I.  ‘I didn’t ask you how ould he was,’ says he; ’but where is he?’—­’He’s behind the crowd below, on account of his infirmities; he couldn’t walk so fast as the rest, my lord,’ says I; ’but his heart is with you, if not his body.  ’I must have his body too, so bring him bodily before us; and this shall be your warrant for so doing,’ said my lord, joking; for he knows the NATUR of us, Paddy, and how we love a joke in our hearts, as well as if he had lived all his life in Ireland; and by the same token will, for that rason, do what he pleases with us, and more maybe than a man twice as good, that never would smile on us.

But I’m telling you of my father.  ‘I’ve a warrant for you, father,’ says I; ’and must have you bodily before the justice, and my lord chief-justice.’  So he changed colour a bit at first; but he saw me smile.  ‘And I’ve done no sin,’ said he; ’and, Larry, you may lead me now, as you led me all my life.’

And up the slope he went with me as light as fifteen; and, when we got up, my Lord Clonbrony said, ’I am sorry an old tenant, and a good old tenant, as I hear you were, should have been turned out of your farm.’

‘Don’t fret, it’s no great matter, my lord,’ said my father.  ’I shall be soon out of the way; but if you would be so kind to speak a word for my boy here, and that I could afford, while the life is in me, bring my other boy back out of banishment—­’

‘Then,’ says my Lord Clonbrony, ’I’ll give you and your sons three lives, or thirty-one years, from this day, of your former farm.  Return to it when you please.’  ‘And,’ added my Lord Colambre, ’the flaggers, I hope, will be soon banished.’  Oh, how could I thank him—­not a word could I proffer—­but I know I clasped my two hands, and prayed for him inwardly.  And my father was dropping down on his knees, but the master would not let him; and OBSARVED, that posture should only be for his God.  And, sure enough, in that posture, when he was out of sight, we did pray for him that night, and will all our days.

But, before we quit his presence, he called me back, and bid me write to my brother, and bring you back, if you’ve no objections, to your own country.