now for all that, than when you were only a process-server on the estate; however, I'll tell you what, Val the Vulture—you see I can be neighborly sometimes—just let me know whenever you stand in need of a rope—mark, I don't say whenever you deserve it—and may I never taste worse liquor than this, but you shall have it with right good will, hoping still that you'll make a proper use of it—ha! ha! ha! Come, man, in the mean time take your liquor, an' don't look as if you'd eat me without salt; for I tell you if you tried it, you'd find Brian M'Loughlin a tougher morsel than you imagine."

"If anybody else spoke to me in the style you do, Brian, I'd not be apt to overlook it; upon my credit and reputation I would not."

"No, but you'd look round it may be, ha! ha! ha! but go on, Vulture, who minds what I say?"

"Nobody, to be sure, because you make one laugh whether they will or not."

"Faith, Vulture dear, and that's what nobody can tax you with; or if you do, it's on the wrong side of the mouth you do it—and they say that same is but indifferent mirth, Val."

"I wish, Brian, you would sometimes speak seriously, and besides, you're always hard, too hard, upon me. Anything I did harshly, it was always in the discharge of my duty."

"Never mind, Val, the fewer of those old sores you rip up, the better for yourself—I'm not going to put you through your catechism about them. If you're wise, let byegones be byegones; take that advice from me. Whatever tricks you may have practised, you're now a wealthy man, and for the same reason the world will help you forget them, if you keep your toe in your pump."

"I am a wealthy man, and can set the world at defiance, if it goes to that; yes, Brian, a wealthier man than the world thinks—and as I said, I defy it."

"Faith, and you needn't, for the world won't put you to that trouble, at least a great part of it, if you were ten times the vulture you are, so long as you have a full purse. Eh, do you perceive me? ha! ha! ha!"

"Well, damn the devil, heaven pardon me for swearing, for it's a thing I hate——"

"——And yet, many a fat oath you've bolted in your time. Now on the nick of your conscience, Val darling, how many Bibles did you wear out, by a long and honest course of hard swearing?—eh—ha! ha! ha!"

"Ha! ha! ha! Brian, I see there is little use in speaking to you, or being angry with you; you are a devilish pleasant hearty fellow, only something a little too rough about the tongue."

"Never mind, Val, by all accounts it would be easy to reckon them; but seriously, is it true that the lower joint of your right thumb is horny, in consequence of having caught the character of your conscience from having kissed it so often?"

"Go on, Brian, go on; to be sure it is; they may say what they like—I am not depending upon them, and I care little. But now, Brian, there is one thing I will say, and I have long wished for an opportunity of saying it."

"That's my bully, out with it; don't be dashed, Val, you'll get over your modesty; upon my credit you will—ha! ha! ha!"

"D—n it, you can't be serious for a minute; but no matter, I will out with it—here's your health and fireside, in the mean time!" Brian merely nodded in reply, but said nothing. "Now you know, Brian, your farm and mine lie very snugly beside one another; observe that that's what I begin with."

"Very good."

"Again, your family and mine live very close to one another, too."

"Very good."

"Now, what if part of the farms, and part of the families were to become united, and get spliced together, eh?"

"Very good, very good."

"Well, but do you really think so, Brian?"

"Go on, if you please, and let us hear more of it; state your case, as you say at the sessions."

"Well, then, there's your daughter Mary, a handsome girl, and, by all accounts, as good as she is handsome—and there's my son Phil, who, excepting the cast (* Squint)—is—but, at any rate, if he's no beauty, he's a stout young fellow, for you know yourself that that little closeness about the knees is always a sign of strength."

"That little closeness, Val!—why, Vulture darling, isn't one knee sugar candy, and the other licking it?—but go on, it's not bad for so far, go on; upon my credit it's not."

"I am glad you like it for so far—then seriously, what would you think of a marriage between them?"

"Devil a prettier move you could make, Val. As you say, the farms and the families lie convenient to one another—and I don't see what's to prevent your proposal from being realized. You'll do well for Phil, of course—for although he has the squint in both eyes, instead of only in one, like yourself—and is twisted very much about the knees, more than you are a good deal—still, Val—neighbor Val, as I now may call you—he is a stout, left-legged, round-shouldered blade; and I question whether the red poll does not become him better than a black one like yours would."

"Why I grant you, Brian, that he looks better on horseback than on foot, and when mounted on 'Handsome Harry,' with top-boots and spurs, it's not on every highway you could meet his equal."

"Devil a lie in that, Val—nor a boy better made to ride or shoot round a corner you could not meet in Europe—but never mind; go on, Val—go on, my friend; no, faith, on hill or in hollow, it would not be easy to match him."

"He'd make an excellent good husband."

"He would not be your son if he did not—well?"

"Well, as to that, if the truth was known, I know where the blame would lie—your daughter will not be the shrew and scold to him that my blister was to me—upon my credit she won't."

"Devil, a lie in that either, Val—well, well—oh! I'll take my oath she won't."

"I don't see why he and she might not be very happy together—you are able to do handsomely for her, as report goes."

"And willing, Val, and a bad father I'd be, if I were not."

"Well then, Brian, so far all looks fair, and devilish glad I am that I broached the thing at once. I have been thinking of it ever since I came to the neighborhood—upon my credit I have.".

"Faith, and so am I glad of it—but what's to be done next, Val darling?"

"Why the less time that's lost upon it the better—we must bring the youngsters together till they get acquainted—then we can have another meeting, and settle the match out of hand. Did you ever see Phil on 'Handsome Harry?'"

"Didn't I?—to be sure I did—and upon my word, Val, he's a credit to the horse he rides, as the horse is to him—a comely couple they are in truth. But, Val, or neighbor Val, as I now may call you, don't you think it would be better to wind up this business now that our hand's in for it? Let us hear what you'll do, and I'll follow you on my part, for there's no use in losing time about it—upon my credit there's not."

"What would you think, then, of the farm we're in now—that is, the O'Hagan property, as you call it? Suppose I gave him that, what will you come down with for the girl? I know it can't be under three hundred—come, say three hundred, and it's a match."

"Three hundred! Oh! Val, you're too soft—too moderate—too mild—indeed you are—why three hundred would be nothing against the O'Hagan property, as you call it—and, indeed, I don't intend to put my daughter off under five hundred, and that's nearly double what three is—eh, Val, what do you say, upon your credit now?"

"Faith, I'll not quarrel with you if you make it six or eight."

"Well now," said M'Loughlin, rising up, whilst his honest features were lit with indignation, "this joke or this impudence on your part, has gone far enough—listen to me. What did I or my family do, I ask my own conscience in the name of God—what sin did we commit—whom did we oppress—whom did we rob—whom did we persecute—that a scoundrel like you, the bastard spawn of an unprincipled profligate, remarkable only for