“I'm thinkin', Art,” said Frank, “that it wouldn't be aisy to find two men that has a betther right to be thankful to God for the good fortune we've both had, than yourself and me. The Lord has been good, to me, for I'm thrivin' to my heart's content, and savin' money every day.” “And glory be to his holy name,” said Art, looking with a strong sense of religious feeling upward, “so am I; and if we both hould to this, we'll die rich, plaise goodness. I have saved up very well, too; and here I sit this night as happy a man as is in Europe. The world's flowin' on me, an' I want for nothin'; I have good health, a clear conscience, and everything that a man in my condition of life can stand in need of, or wish for; glory be to God for it all!” “Amen,” said Frank; “glory be to his name for it!” “But, Frank,” said Art, “there's one thing that I often wonder at, an' indeed so does every one a'most.” “What is that, Art?” “Why, that you don't think o' marryin'. Sure you have good means to keep a wife, and rear a family now; an' of coorse we all wonder that you don't.” “Indeed, to tell you the truth, Art, I don't know myself what's the raison of it--the only wife I think of is my business; but any way, if you was to see the patthern of married life there is undher the roof wid me, you'd not be much in consate wid marriage yourself, if you war a bachelor.” “Why,” inquired the other, “don't they agree?” “Ay do they, so well that they get sometimes into very close an' lovin' grips togather; if ever there was a scald alive she's one o' them, an' him that was wanst so careless and aisey-tempered, she has now made him as bad as herself--has trained him regularly until he has a tongue that would face a ridgment. Tut, sure divil a week that they don't flake one another, an' half my time's, taken up reddin' them.” “Did you ever happen to get the reddin' blow? eh? ha, ha, ha!” “No, not yet; but the truth is, Art, that an ill-tongued wife has driven many a husband to ruin, an' only that I'm there to pay attention to the business, he'd be a poor drunken beggarman long ago, an' all owin' to her vile temper.” “Does she dhrink?” “No, sorra drop--this wickedness all comes natural to her; she wouldn't be aisy out of hot wather, and poor Jack's parboiled in it every day in the year.” “Well, it's I that have got the treasure, Frank; from the day that I first saw her face till the minute we're spakin' in, I never knew her temper to turn--always the same sweet word, the same flow of spirits, and the same light laugh; her love an' affection for me an' the childher there couldn't be language found for. Come, throth we'll drink her health in another tumbler, and a speedy uprise to her, asthore machree that she is, an' when I think of how she set every one of her people at defiance, and took her lot wid myself so nobly, my heart burns wid love for her, ay, I feel my very heart burnin' widin me.” Two tumblers were again mixed, and Margaret's health was drunk.