“Why, mother,” said one of her daughters “how could Barny _Dhal_, a blind man, see anybody?” Alley herself laughed at her blunder, but wittily replied, “Faith, avourneen, maybe he can often see as nately through his ear as you could do wid your eyes open; sure they say he can hear the grass growin'.” “For that matther,” observed the farithee, joining in the joke, “he can see as far as any of us--while we're asleep.” The conversation was thus proceeding, when Barney _Dhal_ and young Frank M'Kenna entered the kitchen. In a moment all hands were extended to welcome Barney: “_Millia failte ghud_, Barny!” “_Cead millia failte ghud_, Barny!” “Oh, Barny, did you come at last? You're welcome.” “Barny, my Trojan, how is every cart-load of you?” “How is Granua Waile, Barny?” “Why, thin, holy music, did you never see Barny _Dhal_ afore? Clear off from about me, or, by the sweets of rosin, I'll play the devil an' brake things. 'You're welcome, Barny!'--an' 'How are you, Barny?' Why thin, piper o' Moses, don't I know I'm welcome, an' yit you must be tellin' me what everybody knows! But sure I have great news for you all!” “What is that, Barny?” “Well, but can yez keep a sacret? Can yez, girls?” “Faix can we, Barny, achora.” “Well, so can I--ha, ha, ha! Now, are,yez sarved? Come, let me to the hob.” “Here, Barny; I'll lead you, Barny.” “No, I _have_ him; come, Barny, I'll lead you: here, achora, this is the spot--that's it. Why, Barny,” said the arch girl, as she placed him in the corner, “sorra one o' the hob but knows you: it never stirs--ha, ha, ha!” “Throth, a colleen, that tongue o' yours will delude some one afore long, if it hasn't done so already.” “But how is Granua Waile, Barny?” “Poor Granua is it? Faith, times is hard wid her often. 'Granua,' says I to her 'what do you say, acushla? we're axed to go to two or three places to-day--what do you say? Do you lead, an' I'll follow: your will is my pleasure.' 'An' where are we axed to?' says Granua, sinsible enough. 'Why,' says I, 'to Paddy Lanigan's, to Mike Hartigan's, to Jack Lynch's, an' at the heel o' the hunt, to Frank M'Kenna's, of the Mountain Bar.' 'By my song,' says she, 'you may go where you plase; as for me, I'm off to Frank M'Kenna's, one of the dacentest men in Europe, an' his wife the same. Divil a toe I'll set a waggin' in any other place this night,' says she; 'for 'tis there we're both well thrated wid the best the house can afford. So,' says she, 'in the name of all that's musical, you're welcome to the poker an' tongs anywhere else; for me, I'm off to Frank's.' An' faith, sure enough, she took to her pumps; an' it was only comin' over the hill there, that young Frank an' I overtuck her: divil a lie in it.” In fact, Barney, besides being a fiddler, was a senachie of the first water; could tell a story, or trace a genealogy as well as any man living, and draw the long bow in either capacity much better than he could in the practice of his more legitimate profession.