“That’s his own affair, you know,” said Donnel Dhu; “but his son, master Richard, or ‘Young Dick,’ as they call him, will be an improvement upon the ould stock.”

“As to that, some says ay, an’ some says no; but I believe myself, that he has, like his father, both good and bad in him; for the ould man, if the maggot bit him, or that if he took the notion, would do one a good turn; an’ if he took a likin’ to you, he’d go any lin’th to sarve you; but, then, you were never sure of him—­nor he didn’t himself know this minute what he’d do the next.”

“That’s thrue enough,” replied Donnel Dhu; “but lavin’ him to shift for himself, I’m of opinion that you an’ I are likely to get wet jackets before we’re much oulder.  Ha!  Did you see that lightnin’?  God presarve us! it was terrible—­an’—­ay, there it is—­the thundher!  God be about us, thundher at this hour is very fearful.  I would give a thrifle to be in my own little cabin, an’ indeed I’m afeard that I won’t be worth the washin’ when I get there, if I can go back sich a night as it’s goin’ to be.”

“The last few years, Donnel, has brought a grievous change,upon me and mine,” replied Sullivan.  “The time was, an’ it’s not long since, when I could give you a comfortable welcome as well as a willin’ one; however, thank God, it isn’t come to sich a hard pass wid me yet that I haven’t a roof an’ a bit to ait to offer you; an’ so to sich as it is you’re heartily welcome.  Home! oh, you mustn’t talk of home this night.  Blood, you know, is thicker than wather, an’ if it was only on your wife Nolly’s account, you should be welcome.  Second an’ third cousins by the mother’s side we are, an’ that’s purty strong.  Oh, no, don’t talk of goin’ home this night.”

“Well,” replied the other, “I’m thankful to you, Jerry, an’ indeed as the night’s comin’ on so hard and stormy, I’ll accept your kind offer; a mouthful of any thing will do me, an’ a dry sate at your hearth till mornin’.”

“Unfortunately, as I said,” replied Sullivan, “it’s but poor an’ humble treatment I can give you; but if it was betther you should be jist as welcome to it, an’ what more can I say?”

“What more can you say, indeed!  I know your good heart, Jerry, as who doesn’t?  Dear me, how it’s poorin’ over there towards the south—­ha, there it is again, that thundher!  Well, thank goodness, we haven’t far to go, at any rate, an’ the shower hasn’t come round this far yet.  In the mean time let us step out an’ thry to escape it if we can.”

“Let us cross the fields, then,” said Sullivan, “an’ get up home by the Slang, an’ then behind our garden:  to be sure, the ground is in a sad plash, but then it will save a long twist round the road, an’ as you say, we may escape the rain yet.”