“In the town forrid here,” replied Jemmy.  “I’m in hopes I’ll be able to reach it before dark.”

“Pooh! asy you will.  Have you any friends or acquaintances there that ’ud welcome you, a bouchal dhas (my handsome boy)?”

“No, indeed,” said Jemmy, “they’re all strangers to me; but I can stop in ‘dhry lodgin’,’ for it’s chaper.”

“Well, alanna, I believe you; but I’m no stranger to you—­so come home wid me to-night; where you’ll get a good bed, and betther thratement nor in any of their dhry lodgins.  Give me your books, and I’ll carry them for you.  Ethen, but you have a great batch o’ them entirely.  Can you make any hand o’ the Latin at all yet?”

“No, indeed,” replied Jemmy, somewhat sorrowfully; “I didn’t ever open a Latin book, at all at all.”

“Well, acushla, everything has a beginnin’;—­you won’t be so.  An’ I know by your face that you’ll be bright at it, an’ a credit to them owes (* owns) you.  There’s my house in the fields beyant, where you’ll be well kept for one night, any way, or for twinty, or for ten times twinty, if you wanted them.”

The honest farmer then commenced the song of Colleen dhas Crotha na Mho (* The pretty girl milking her cow), which he sang in a clear mellow voice, until they reached the house.

“Alley,” said the man to his wife, on entering, “here’s a stranger I’ve brought you.”

“Well,” replied Alley, “he’s welcome sure, any way; Cead millia, failta ghud, alanna! sit over to the fire.  Brian, get up, dear,” said she to one of the children, “an’ let the stranger to the hob.”

“He’s goin’ on a good errand, the Lord bless him!” said the husband, “up the country for the larnin’.  Put thim books over on the settle; an’ whin the, girshas are done milkin’, give him a brave dhrink of the sweet milk; it’s the stuff to thravel on.”

“Troth, an’ I will, wid a heart an’ a half, wishin’ it was betther I had to give him.  Here, Nelly, put down a pot o’ wather, an’ lave soap an’ a praskeen, afore you go to milk, till I bathe the dacent boy’s feet.  Sore an’ tired they are afther his journey, poor young crathur.”

When Jemmy placed himself upon the hob, he saw that some peculiarly good fortune had conducted him to so comfortable a resting-place.  Ho considered this as a good omen; and felt, in fact, much relieved, for the sense of loneliness among strangers was removed.

The house evidently belonged to a wealthy farmer, well to do in the world; the chimney was studded with sides upon sides of yellow smoke-dried bacon, hams, and hung beef in abundance.  The kitchen tables were large, and white as milk; and the dresser rich in its shining array of delf and pewter.  Everything, in fact, was upon a large scale.  Huge meal chests were ranged on one side, and two or three settle beds on the other, conspicuous, as I have said, for their uncommon cleanliness; whilst hung from the ceiling