The old man gave a sigh, and raising himself with great pain, on his staff, he looked at Bill in a very beseeching way. "Musha, God save you kindly!" says he; "maybe you could give a poor, hungry, helpless ould man a mouthful of something to ait? You see yourself I'm not able to work; if I was, I'd scorn to be behoulding to anyone." "Faith, honest man," said Bill, "if you knew who you're speaking to, you'd as soon ask a monkey for a churn-staff as me for either mate or money. There's not a blackguard in the three kingdoms so fairly on the _shaughran_ as I am for both the one and the other. The wife within is sending the curses thick and heavy on me, and the childhre's playing the cat's melody to keep her in comfort. Take my word for it, poor man, if I had either mate or money I'd help you, for I know particularly well what it is to want them at the present spaking; an empty sack won't stand, neighbour." So far Bill told him truth. The good thought was in his heart, because he found himself on a footing with the beggar; and nothing brings down pride, or softens the heart, like feeling what it is to want. "Why, you are in a worse state than I am," said the old man; "you have a family to provide for, and I have only myself to support." "You may kiss the book on that, my old worthy," replied Bill; "but come, what I can do for you I will; plant yourself up here beside the fire, and I'll give it a blast or two of my bellows that will warm the old blood in your body. It's a cold, miserable, snowy day, and a good heat will be of service." "Thank you kindly," said the old man; "I _am_ cold, and a warming at your fire will do me good, sure enough. Oh, it _is a bitter, bitter day; God bless it!" _ He then sat down, and Bill blew a rousing blast that soon made the stranger edge back from the heat. In a short time he felt quite comfortable, and when the numbness was taken out of his joints, he buttoned himself up and prepared to depart. "Now," says he to Bill, "you hadn't the food to give me, but _what you could you did_. Ask any three wishes you choose, and be they what they may, take my word for it, they shall be granted." Now, the truth is, that Bill, though he believed himself a great man in point of 'cuteness, wanted, after all, a full quarter of being square; for there is always a great difference between a wise man and a knave. Bill was so much of a rogue that he could not, for the blood of him, ask an honest wish, but stood scratching his head in a puzzle. "Three wishes!" said he. "Why, let me see--did you say _three_?" "Ay," replied the stranger, "three wishes--that was what I said."