* When a country girl is said to have a large fortune, the peasantry, when speaking of her in reference to matrimony, say she's a “Great Match.” When Phelim presented himself at home, he scarcely replied to the queries put to him by his father and mother concerning his interview with the priest. He sat down, rubbed his hands, scratched his head, rose up, and walked to and fro, in a mood of mind so evidently between mirth and chagrin, that his worthy parents knew not whether to be merry or miserable. “Phelim,” said the mother, “did you take anything while you wor away?” “Did I take anything! is it? Arrah, be asy, ould woman! Did I take anything! Faith you may say that!” “Let us know, anyhow, what's the matther wid you?' asked the father. “Tare-an'-ounze!” exclaimed the son, “what is this for, at all at all? It's too killin' I am, so it is.” “You're not lookin' at Sam Appleton's clo'es,” said the father, “that he lent you the loan of, hat an' all?” “Do you want to put an affront upon me, ould man? To the divil wid himself an' his clo'es! When I wants clo'es I'll buy them wid my own money!' “Larry,” observed the mother, “there's yourself all over--as proud as a payoock when the sup's in your head, an' 'ud spake as big widout the sign o' money in your pocket, as if you had the rint of an estate.” “What do you say about the sign o' money?” exclaimed Phelim, with a swagger. “Maybe you'll call that the sign o' money!” he added, producing the ten guineas in gold. The father and mother looked at it for a considerable time, then at each other, and shook their heads. “Phelim!” said the father, solemnly. “Phelim!” said the mother, awfully; and both shook their heads again. “You wor never over-scrupulous,” the father proceeded, “an' you know you have many little things to answer for, in the way of pickin' up what didn't belong to yourself. I think, too, you're not the same boy you wor afore you tuck to swearin' the alibies. “Faith, an' I doubt I'll haye to get some one to swear an alibi for myself soon,” Phelim replied. “Why, blessed hour!” said Larry, “didn't I often tell you never to join the boys in anything that might turn out a hangin' matther?” “If this is not a hangin' matther,” said Phelim, “it's something nearly as bad: it's a marryin' matther. Sure I deluded another since you seen me last. Divil a word o' lie in it. I was clane fell in love wid this mornin' about seven o'clock.” “But how did you get the money, Phelim?” “Why, from the youthful sprig that fell in love wid me. Sure we're to be 'called' in the Chapel on Sunday next.” “Why thin now, Phelim! An' who is the young crathur? for in throth she must be young to go to give the money beforehand!” “Murdher!” exclaimed Phelim, “what's this for! Was ever any one done as I am? Who is she! Why she's--oh, murdher, oh!--she's no other than--hem--divil a one else than Father O'Hara's housekeeper, ould Biddy Doran!”