“No use, no use in that, except to bring him into drink an' other bad habits; a bad way, Honora, of showin' one's love for him. If you had your will you'd spoil him; I'm keepin' whatsomever little shillin's we've scraped together to settle him dacently in life; but, indeed, that's time enough yet; he's too young to marry for some years to come, barrin' he got a fortune.” “Well, one thing, Fardorougha, if ever two people were blessed in a good son, praise be God we are that!” “We are, Honor, we are; there's not his aquil in the parish--_achora machree_ that he is. When I'm gone he'll know what I've done for him.” “Whin you're gone; why, Saver of arth, sure you wouldn't keep him out of his---- husth!----here he is, God be thanked! poor boy he's safe. Oh, thin, _vich no Hoiah_, Connor jewel, were you out undher this terrible night?” “Connor, _avich machree_,” added the father, “you're lost! My hand to you, if he's worth three hapuns; sthrip an' throw my Cothamore about you, an' draw in to the fire; you're fairly lost.” “I'm worth two lost people yet,” said Connor, smiling; “mother, did you ever see a pleasanter night?” “Pleasant, Connor, darlin'! Oh thin it's you may say so, I'm sure!” “Father, you're a worthy--only your Cothamore's too scimpt for me. Faith, mother, although you think I'm jokin', the devil a one o' me is; a pleasanter night--a happier night I never spent. Father, you ought to be proud o' me, an' stretch out a bit with the cash; faith, I'm nothin' else than a fine handsome young fellow.” “Be me soul an' he ought to be proud out of you, Connor, whether you're in arnest or not,” observed the mother, “an' to stretch out wid the _arrighad_ too if you want it.” “Folly on, Connor, folly on! your mother'll back you, I'll go bail, say what you will; but sure you know all I have must be yours yet, acushla.” Connor now sat down, and his mother stirred up the fire, on which she placed additional fuel. After a little time his manner changed, and a shade of deep gloom fell upon his manly and handsome features. “I don't know,” he at length proceeded, “that, as we three are here together, I could do betther than ask your advice upon what has happened to me to-night.” “Why, what has happened you, Connor?” said the mother alarmed; “plase God, no harm, I hope.” “Who else,” added the father, “would you be guided by, if not by your mother an' myself?” “No harm, mother, dear,” said Connor in reply to her; “harm! Oh! mother, mother, if you knew it; an' as for what you say, father, it's right; what advice but my mother's an' yours ought I to ask?” “An' God's too,” added the mother. “An' my heart was nevir more _ris_ to God than it was', an' is this night,” replied their ingenuous boy. “Well, but what has happened, Connor?” said his father; “if it's anything where our advice can serve you, of coorse we'll advise you for the best.”