“Don’t you know,” replied Art, “that God always fits the back to the burden, and that he never sends a mouth but he sends something to fill it.”

The little extortioner shrugged his shoulders, and raising his eyebrows, turned up his eyes—­as much as to say, What a pretty notion of life you have with such opinions as these!

“Upon my word, Toal,” said Art, “the young lady we’ve got home to us is a beauty; at all events, her godfathers need not be ashamed of her.”

“If she’s like her own father or mother,” replied Toal, once more resuming the sugar-candy style, “she can’t be anything else than a beauty, It’s well known that sich a couple never stood undher the roof of Aughindrummon Chapel, nor walked the street of Ballykeerin.”

Frank winked at Art, who, instead of returning the wink, as he ought to have done, shut both his eyes, and then looked at Toal with an expression of great compassion—­as if he wished to say, Poor fellow, I don’t think he can be so bad-hearted as the world gives him credit for.

“Come, Toal,” he replied, laughing, “none of your bother now.  Ay was there, many a finer couple under the same roof, and on the same street; so no palaver, my man; But are you prepared to stand for the girsha?  You know it’s nearly a month since I axed you?”

“To be sure I am; but who’s the midwife?”

“Ould Kate Sharpe; as lucky a woman as ever came about one’s house.”

“Throth, then, I’m sorry for that,” said Toal, “for she’s a woman I don’t like; an’ I now say beforehand, that devil a traneen she’ll be the betther of me, Art.”

“Settle that,” replied Art, “between you; at all events, be ready on Sunday next—­the christenin’s fixed for it.”

After some farther chat, Toal, who, we should have informed our readers, had removed from his father’s old residence into Ballykeerin, took his departure, quite proud at the notion of being a godfather at all; for in truth it was the first occasion on which he ever had an opportunity of arriving at that honor.

Art was a strictly conscientious man; so much so, indeed, that he never defrauded a human being to the value of a farthing; and as for truth, it was the standard principle of his whole life.  Honesty, truth, and sobriety are, indeed, the three great virtues upon which all that is honorable, prosperous, and happy is founded.  Art’s conscientious scruples were so strong, that although in point of fact the term of his oath had expired at twelve o’clock in the forenoon, he would not permit himself to taste a drop of spirits until after twelve at night.

“It’s best,” said he to his brother, “to be on the safe side at all events:  a few hours is neither one way nor the other.  We haven’t now more than a quarther to go, and then for a tight drop to wet my whistle, an’ dhrink the little girshas health an’ her mother’s.  Throth I’ve put in a good apprenticehip to sobriety, anyhow.  Come, Madjey,” he added, addressing the servant-maid, “put down the kettle till we have a little jorum of our own; Frank here and myself; and all of yez.”