After some further conversation, a comfortable breakfast was prepared for them, of which they partook with an appetite sharpened by their long abstinence from food. Their stay here was particularly fortunate, for as they were certain of a cordial welcome, and an abundance of that which they much wanted--wholesome food--the pressure of immediate distress was removed. They had time to think more accurately upon the little preparations for misery which were necessary, and, as the day's leisure was at their disposal, Kathleen's needle and scissors were industriously plied in mending the tattered clothes of her husband and her children, in order to meet the inclemency of the weather. On the following morning, after another abundant breakfast, and substantial marks of kindness from their entertainers, they prepared to resume their new and melancholy mode of life. As they were about to depart, the farmer's wife addressed them in the following terms--the farmer himself, by the way, being but the shadow of his worthy partner in life-- Wife--“Now, good people, you're takin' the world on your heads--” Farmer--“Ay, good people, you're takin' the world on your heads--” Wife--“Hould your tongue, Brian, an' suck your dhudeen. It's me that's spakin' to them, so none of your palaver, if you plase, till I'm done, an' then you may prache till Tib's Eve, an' that's neither before Christmas nor afther it.” Farmer--“Sure I'm sayin' nothin', Elveen, barrin' houldin' my tongue, a shuchar” (* my sugar). Wife--“Your takin' the world on yez, an' God knows 'tis a heavy load to carry, poor crathurs.” Farmer--“A heavy load, poor crathurs! God he knows it's that.” Wife--“Brian! _Gluntho ma?_--did you hear me? You'll be puttin' in your gab, an' me spakin'? How-an-iver, as I was sayin', our house was the first ye came to, an' they say there's a great blessin' to thim that gives, the first charity to a poor man or woman settin' out to look for their bit.” Farmer--“Throgs, ay! Whin they set out; to look for their bit.” Wife--“By the crass, Brian, you'd vex a saint. What have you to say in it, you _pittiogue_?* Hould your whisht now, an' suck your dhudeen, I say; sure I allow you a quarther o' tobaccy a week, an' what right have you to be puttin' in your gosther when other people's spakin'?” * Untranslatable--but means a womanly man a poor, effeminate creature. Farmer--“Go an.” Wife--“So, you see, the long an' the short of it is that whenever you happen to be in this side of the counthry, always come to us. You know the ould sayin'--when the poor man comes he brings a blessin', an' when he goes he carries away a curse. You have as much, meal as will last yez a day or two; an' God he sees you're heartily welcome to all ye got?” Farmer--“God he sees you're heartily welcome--”