Larry O'Sullivan was a poor orphan boy, the child of a sister of Michael O'Shaughnessy, by whom he had been adopted, when his father and mother died of the fever. Larry was very handsome, and what was better, very good, but he led rather a hard life of it at his new home. His uncle was kind, but he was a gentle, meek sort of a man--his wife ruled every thing at the cabin, and she did not like Larry overmuch. She thought it hard that he should not only eat the food and wear the clothes that her own children needed, but should be more liked and admired in the neighborhood than they. She doted on her own boy, Teddy, and thought him not only good-looking, but wonderfully clever--when, in fact, a plainer or more stupid young bog-trotter could hardly be found in all Ireland. She was a strong-minded woman, and did not make much account of her girls--and there she was not far wrong--except in regard to the youngest, Katy, who was a pretty, blue-eyed darling, as sweet and as bright as a May morning. Katy and Larry were famous good friends--Larry was the pulse of Katy's heart, and Katy was the light of Larry's eyes. The children all went to school in the village, about a mile away. Dermot Finnigen, the schoolmaster, was also a tailor, a barber, a bit of a doctor, and a fiddler. He did very well at all his professions, but he was greatest at fiddling. From the first, Larry was the master's favorite--not because he was particularly studious, but because he took to the fiddle as naturally, Dermot said, "as a ducklin' takes to the wather, just." Indeed, the boy showed such extraordinary talent for music, that, for the mere love of it, Dermot gave him lessons, and often lent him an old fiddle to practise on. Larry had also a very sweet voice, and in singing the wild ballads of the country, could make people laugh or cry, just as it pleased him to do. Larry coveted, more than any thing in the world, the old fiddle of his master. Dermot was willing to sell it, as he had a better, but he said he could not part with it even to his favorite pupil, for less than a crown. Now Larry in all his life had never held so much money--so he despaired of ever being rich enough to have a fiddle of his own. One spring-time, when Larry was about twelve and Teddy fourteen, a great trouble came upon the house of the O'Shaughnessys--the pig died! One morning, soon after this sad event, as the two boys were on the way to the little village, on some errand, a travelling carriage passed them, driving rapidly. As it turned a corner, a small writing-case was jolted off from one of the seats, and fell into the road. Larry picked it up, and the two boys ran after the carriage, shouting to the driver to stop. But he took them for beggars, and drove on the faster. So they followed, for more than a mile, running at the top of their speed, calling and holding up the writing-case.