get two; two pots—­a large one and a small one—­the former to go with Phelim; three horn spoons, of which Phelim was to get one, and the chance of a toss-up for a third.  Phelim was to bring his own bed, provided he did not prefer getting a bottle of fresh straw as a connubial luxury.  The blanket was a tender subject; for having been fourteen years in employment, it entangled the father and Phelim, touching the prudence of the latter claiming it all.  The son was at length compelled to give it up, at least in the character of an appendage to his marriage property.  He feared that the wife, should he not be able to replace it by a new one, or should she herself not be able to bring him one, as part of her dowry, would find the honeymoon rather lively.  Phelim’s bedstead admitted of no dispute, the floor of the cabin having served him in that capacity ever since he began to sleep in a separate bed.  His pillow was his small clothes, and his quilt his own coat, under which he slept snugly enough.

The father having proposed, and the son acceded to these arrangements, the next thing to be done was to pitch upon a proper girl as his wife.  This being a more important matter, was thus discussed by the father and son, one evening, at their own fireside, in the presence of Sheelah.

“Now, Phelim,” said the father, “look about you, an’ tell us what girl in the neighborhood you’d like to be married to.”

“Why,” replied Phelim, “I’ll lave that to you; jist point out the girl you’d like for your daughter-in-law, an’ be she rich, poor, ould, or ugly, I’ll delude her.  That’s the chat.”

“Ah, Phelim, if you could put your comedher an Gracey Dalton, you’d be a made boy.  She has the full of a rabbit-skin o’ guineas.”

“A made boy!  Faith, they say I’m that as it is, you know.  But would you wish me to put my comedher on Gracey Dalton?  Spake out.”

“To be sure I would.”

“Ay,” observed the mother, “or what ’ud you think of Miss Pattherson?  That ‘ud be the girl.  She has a fine farm, an’ five hundre pounds.  She’s a Protestant, but Phelim could make a Christian of her.”

“To be sure I could,” said Phelim, “have her thumpin’ her breast, and countin’ her Padareens in no time.  Would you wish me to have her, mudher?”

“Throth an’ I would, avick.”

“That ’ud never do,” observed the father.  “Sure you don’t think she’d ever think of the likes o’ Phelim?”

“Don’t make a goose of yourself, ould man,” observed Phelim.  “Do you think if I set about it, that I’d not manufacture her senses as asy as I’d peel a piatee?”

“Well, well,” replied the father, “in the name o’ Goodness make up to her.  Faith it ud’ be somethin’ to have a jauntin’ car in the family!”