“Ay did I, an' it's truth too; but it's wid joy she's dyin' to see you kiss one of the purtiest young boys in all the barony of Lisnamona--myself's over head and ears in love wid him already.” He gave a rapid glance upwards, so much so that it was scarcely perceptible, and immediately accompanied her into the house. The child, in the meantime, had been dressed, and lay on its mother's arm in the bed when its father entered. He approached the bedside and glanced at it--then at the mother who lay smiling beside it--she extended her hand to him, whilst the soft, sweet tears of delight ran quietly down her cheeks. When he seized her hand he stooped to kiss her, but she put up her other hand and said-- “No, no, you must kiss him first.” [Illustration: PAGE 191-- Imprinted the father's first kiss] He instantly stooped over the babe, took it in his arms, looked long and earnestly upon it, put it up near him, again gave it a long, intense gaze, after which he raised its little mouth to his own, and then imprinted the father's first kiss upon the fragrant lips of his beloved first-born. Having gently deposited the precious babe upon its mother's arm, he caught her hand and imprinted upon her lips a kiss;--but to those who understand it, we need not describe it--to those who cannot, we could give no adequate notion of that which we are able in no other way to describe than by saying that it would seem as if the condensed enjoyment of a whole life were concentrated into that embrace of the child and mother. When this tender scene was over, the midwife commenced-- “Well, if ever a man had raison to be thank--” “Silence, woman!” he exclaimed in a voice which hushed her almost into terror. “Let him alone,” said the wife, addressing her, “let him alone, I know what he feels.” “No,” he replied, “even you, Honora, don't know it--my heart, my heart went astray, and there, undher God and my Saviour, is the being that will be the salvation of his father.” His wife understood him and was touched; the tears fell fast from her eyes, and, extending her hand to him, she said, as he clasped it: “Sure, Fardorougha, the world won't be as much in your heart now, nor your temper so dark as it was.” He made no reply; but, placing his other hand over his eyes, he sat in that posture for some minutes. On raising his head the tears were running as if involuntarily down his cheeks. “Honora,” said he, “I'll go out for a little--you can tell Mary Moan where anything's to be had--let them all be trated so as that they don't take too much--and, Mary Moan, you won't be forgotten.” He then passed out, and did not appear for upwards of an hour, nor could any one of them tell where he had been. “Well,” said Honora, after he had left the room, “we're now married near fourteen years; and until this night I never see him shed a tear.”