“In troth, Felix, sorra one of us knows.”

“Well, then, it was nothing else but a little dirty black oak box, hooped round with iron, and covered with say-weed and barnacles, as if it had lain a long time in the water.  ‘Oh, ho!’ says myself, ’it’s in rale good luck I am this beautiful morning.  Phew! as sure as turf, ’tis full of goold, or silver, or dollars, the box is.’  For, by dad, it was so heavy intirely I could scarcely move it, and it sunk my little boat a’most to the water’s edge; so I pulled back for bare life to the shore, and ran the boat into a lonesome little creek in the rocks.  There I managed somehow to heave out the little box upon dry land, and, finding a handy lump of a stone, I wasn’t long smashing the iron fastenings, and lifting up the lid.  I looked in, and saw a weeshy ould weasened fellow sitting in it, with his legs gothered up under him like a tailor.  He was dressed in a green coat, all covered with goold lace, a red scarlet waistcoat down to his hips, and a little three-cornered cocked hat upon the top of his head, with a cock’s feather sticking out of it as smart as you plase.

“‘Good morrow to you, Felix Donovan,’ says the small chap, taking off his hat to me, as polite as a dancing-masther.

“‘Musha! then the tip top of the morning to you,’ says I, ’it’s ashamed of yourself you ought to be, for putting me to such a dale of throuble.’

“‘Don’t mention it, Felix,’ says he, ’I’ll be proud to do as much for you another time.  But why don’t you open the box, and let me out? ’tis many a long day I have been shut up here in this could dark place.’  All the time I was only holding the lid partly open.

“‘Thank you kindly, my tight fellow,’ says myself, quite ’cute; ’maybe you think I don’t know you, but plase God you’ll not stir a peg out of where you are until you pay me for my throuble.’

“‘Millia murdher!’ says the little chap.  ’What could a poor crather like me have in the world?  Haven’t I been shut up here without bite or sup?’ and then he began howling and bating his head agin the side of the box, and making most pitiful moans.  But I wasn’t to be deceived by his thricks, so I put down the lid of the box and began to hammer away at it, when he roared out,—­

“‘Tare an’ agers!  Felix Donovan, sure you won’t be so cruel as to shut me up again?  Open the box, man, till I spake to you.’

“‘Well, what do you want now’!’ savs I, lifting up the lid the laste taste in life.

“’I’ll tell you what, Felix, I’ll give you twenty goolden guineas if you’ll let me out.’

“‘Soft was your horn, my little fellow; your offer don’t shoot.’

“’I’ll give you fifty.

“‘No.’

“‘A hundred.’

“’T won’t do.  If you were to offer me all the money in the Cork bank I wouldn’t take it.’

“‘What the diaoul will you take then?’ says the little ould chap, reddening like a turkey-cock in the gills with anger.