“The world!” rejoined Art; “why, what the sorra puts thoughts o’ the world into your head, Frank?  Isn’t it time enough for you or me to think o’ the world these ten years to come?”

“Ay,” replied Frank, “but when we come to join it isn’t the time to begin to think of it; don’t you know what the ould saying says—­ha nha la na guiha la na scuillaba—­it isn’t on the windy day that you are to look for your scollops."*

* The proverb inculcates forethought and provision.  Scollop is an osier sharpened at both ends, by which the thatch of a house is fastened down to the roof.  Of a windy day the thatch alone would be utterly useless, if there were no scollops to keep it firm.

“An’ what ‘ud prevent you, Art, from goin’ to larn a trade?” asked his father.

“I’d rather stay with you,” replied the affectionate boy; “I don’t like to leave you nor the family, to be goin’ among strangers.”

The unexpected and touching nature of his motive, so different from what was expected, went immediately to his father’s heart.  He looked at his fine boy, and was silent for a minute, after which he wiped the moisture from his eyes.  Art, on seeing his father affected, became so himself, and added—­

“That’s my only raison, father, for not goin’; I wouldn’t like to lave you an’ them, if I could help it.”

“Well, acushla,” replied the father, while his eyes beamed on him with tenderness and affection, “sure we wouldn’t ax you to go, if we could any way avoid it—­it’s for your own good we do it.  Don’t refuse to go, Art; sure for my sake you won’t?”

“I will go, then,” he replied; “I’ll go for your sake, but I’ll miss you all.”

“An’ we’ll miss you, ahagur.  God bless you, Art dear, it’s jist like you.  Ay, will we in throth miss you; but, then, think what a brave fine thing it’ll be for you to have a grip of a dacent independent trade, that’ll keep your feet out o’ the dirt while you live.”

“I will go,” repeated Art, “but as for the trade, I’ll have none but Frank’s.  I’ll be a carpenter, for then he and I can be together.”

In addition to the affectionate motive which Art had mentioned to his father—­and which was a true one—­as occasioning his reluctance to learn a trade, there was another, equally strong and equally tender.  In the immediate neighborhood there lived a family named Murray, between whom and the Maguires there subsisted a very kindly intimacy.  Jemmy Murray was in fact one of the wealthiest men in that part of the parish, as wealth then was considered—­that is to say, he farmed about forty acres, which he held at a moderate rent, and as he was both industrious and frugal, it was only a matter of consequence that he and his were well to do in the world.  It is not likely, however, that even a passing acquaintance would ever have taken place between them, were it not for the consideration of the blood which was known