Now, as Toal is to appear occasionally, and to be alluded to from time to time in this narrative, we shall give the reader a short sketch or outline of his physical appearance and moral character.  In three words, then, he had all his father’s vices multiplied tenfold, and not one of his good qualities, such as they were; his hair was of that nondescript color which partakes at once of the red, the fair, and the auburn; it was a bad dirty dun, but harmonized with his complexion to a miracle.  That complexion, indeed, was no common one; as we said, it was one of those which, no matter how frequently it might have been scrubbed, always presented the undeniable evidences of dirt so thorougly ingrained into the pores of the skin, that no process could remove it, short of flaying him alive.  His vile, dingy dun bristles stood out in all directions from his head, which was so shaped as to defy admeasurement; the little rascal’s body was equally ill-made, and as for his limbs, we have already described them, as reaping-hooks of flesh and blood, terminated by a pair of lark-heeled feet, as flat as smoothing-irons.  Now, be it known, that notwithstanding these disadvantages, little Toal looked upon himself as an Adonis upon a small scale, and did certainly believe that scarcely any female on whom he threw his fascinating eye could resist being enamored of him.  This, of course, having become generally known, was taken advantage of, and many a merry country girl amused both herself and others at his expenses while he imagined her to be perfectly serious.

“Then how did you escape at all,” said Frank—­“you that the girls are so fond of?”

“You may well ax,” said Toal; “but at any rate, it’s the divil entirely to have them too fond of you.  There’s raison in every thing, but wanst a woman takes a strong fancy to the cut of your face, you’re done for, until you get rid of her.  Throth I suffered as much persecution that way as would make a good batch o’ marthyrs.  However, what can one do?”

“It’s a hard case, Toal,” said Art; “an’ I b’lieve you’re as badly off, if not worse, now than ever.”

“In that respect,” replied Toal, “I’m ladin’ the life of a murdherer.  I can’t set my face out but there’s a pursuit after me—­chased an’ hunted like a bag fox; devil a lie I’m tellin’ you.”

“But do you intend to marry still, Toal?” asked Frank; “bekaise if you don’t, it would be only raisonable for you to make it generally known that your mind’s made up to die a bachelor.”

“I wouldn’t bring the penalty an’ expenses of a wife an’ family on me, for the handsomest woman livin’,” said Toal.  “Oh no; the Lord in mercy forbid that!  Amin, I pray.”

“But,” said Art, “is it fair play to the girls not to let that be generally known, Toal?”

“Hut,” replied the other, “let them pick it out of their larnin’, the thieves.  Sure they parsecuted me to sich a degree, that they desarve no mercy at my hands.  So, Art,” he proceeded, “you’ve got another mouth to feed!  Oh, the Lord pity you!  If you go on this way, what ’ill become of you at last?”