hoighth of good thratemint of all kinds. I did not stay an hour in Belfast, but tuk to the road to look afther the ould man an’ little Biddy. Well, sorrows the tidins’ I got. The ould man had died, an’ the grief an’ disthress of poor little Biddy had even touched her head a little. The dacent people where she was, may the Lord reward ’em, though they found little use in her, kep her, hoping I would be able to come home an’ keep her myself, an’ so I was. I brought her away wid me, an’ the sight iv me put new life in her. I was set upon not being idle, an’ I’ll tell yees what I did next. “When I was little _bouchaleen_ iv a boy I used to be a head on the mountain face, an’ ’twas often I sheltered myself behind them gray rocks that’s at the gable iv my house, an’ somehow it came into my head that the new Squire, being a grate man for improvin’, might let me try to brake in a bit iv land there, an’ so I goes off to him, an’ one iv the sarvints bein’ a sort iv cousin iv mine, I got to spake to the Squire, an’ behould yees he guv me lave at onst. Well, there’s no time like the prisint, an’ as I passed out iv the back yard of the mentioned (mansion) house, I sees the sawyers cutting some Norway firs that had been blown down by the storm, an’ I tells the sawyers that I had got lave to brake in a bit iv land in the mountains, an’ what would some pieces iv fir cost. They says they must see what kind of pieces they was that I wished for, an’ no sooner had I set about looking ’em through than the Squire himself comes ridin’ out of the stable-yard, an’ says he at onst, Mc Nale, says he, you may have a load iv cuttins to build your cabin, or two if you need it. ‘The Heavens be your honour’s bed,’ says I, an’ I wint off to the room where I an’ Biddy lived, not knowin’ if I was on my head or my heels. Next day, before sunrise, I was up here five miles up the face of Slieve-dan, with a spade in my fist, an’ I looked roun’ for the most shiltered spot I could sit my eyes an. Here I saw, where the house an’ yard are stan’in, a plot iv about an acre to the south iv that tall ridge of rocks, well sheltered from the blast from the north an’ from the aste, an’ it was about sunrise an’ a fine morning in October that I tuk up the first spadeful. There was a spring then drippin’ down the face iv the rocks, the same you see gushin’ through the crockery pipe in the farm-yard; an’ I saw at once that it would make the cabin completely damp, an’ the land about mighty sour an’ water-_slain_; so I determined to do what I saw done in Scotland. I sunk a deep drain right under the rock to run all along the back iv the cabin, an’ workin’ that day all alone by myself, I did a grate dale iv it. At night, it was close upon dark when I started to go home, so I hid my spade in the heath an’ trudged off. The next mornin’ I bargined with a farmer to bring me up a load iv fir cuttins from the Squire’s, an’ by the evenin’