‘Well, Patrick, let us take a start now, then,’ said Henry.

’Stop a bit, if ye plase, master Henry, till I ask yer honor a bit of a question.  Is there any wild bastes on this elligant little island?’

‘Not that I know of.  But what made you think of that, Patrick?’

’Faith, an it was just this, then, your honor.  Ould Father McGrave, rest to his sowl, who was the parish praste at Bully Bannon, when I was a wee bit spalpeen of a boy, used to tell me that in ‘forrin’ places like this, where the sun was as hot as purgatory all the year round, there was a great plinty of tigers and illifonts, [meaning probably—­elephants,] and sarpints, and all other kinds of savage bastes.  Now I jest thought, master Henry, if that was the case here, I would just cut a couple of “shillalahs,” one for each of us, off of yonder tree, as they might work in handy in case of accidint.’

’Although there is no danger of our being attacked by wild bastes, as you call them,’ replied Henry, smiling at the simplicity of the honest Patlander, ’still, the shillalahs may not come amiss, so make haste and cut them, and then we will set out upon our journey,’

Having thus gained Huntington’s permission, Pat O’Leary lost no time in repairing to the tree which he has before mentioned, where he selected two of its branches, which he thought suitable to his purposes, he quickly cut them from their parent trunk with his jacknife, and returned with them to Henry, who chose the shortest one of the two, and then said:—­

’Now, Patrick, as they have all gone off and left this spot, it is time for us to follow their example.’

‘Fast as yer honor plases,’ replied Patrick, and so saying, he immediately followed Henry, who had advanced some paces ahead of him, and they then proceeded both together, on their intended expedition.

They walked on for some moments in silence, which, however, was broken by Henry, who thus addressed his companion,—­

‘Well, Patrick, what do you think of this beautiful spot?’

’Och, yer honor, and I think its just the most illigant little spot in the world, where the pratees, [meaning, possibly, the oranges and lemons,] grow on the trees, and where one never sees a snake, nor a sarpint at all, at all.  Sure, and I think that the blessed Saint Patrick must have stopped at this place in the course of his travels, and killed all the snakes, and the frogs, and the vipers, bad luck to them, as he did in ould Ireland.’

‘But how should you like to live here altogether?’ asked Henry.

’Live, is it, master Henry?  Sure, an I had rather live here than any place in the wide world, besides barrin my own blessed ould Ireland.’

‘What, alone?’ again asked Huntington.

‘By the powers, sir, no, not a bit of it,’ replied the Patlander.  ’The devil a bit would Pat O’Leary wish to live alone in any place, bat I was just thinking, master Henry, that if you and Miss Hamilton, bless the light of her blessed black eyes, would only consint to be married, and live upon this pretty, convanient little island, what a nate, clane, comfortable serving man you might have in Patrick O’Leary.’