“And so you see, dear mother, that notwithstanding all the neighbours said, it’s as lucky after all that I turned the Vosther, for it has made a man of me, and with the help of the holy St Patrick I am well able to spare the twenty pounds you will get inside, which is half for yourself to make your old days comfortable, or to come out to me, if you’d like that better, and the other half for my poor darling Nelly, the _colleen dhas dhun_, that I am afraid spent many a heavy hour on my account; but you may tell her that with the help of God I will live to make up for them all. I will expect her at New York by the next ship, and you may tell her that the first thing she is to buy with the money must be a grand goold ring, and let her put it on her finger at once, without waiting for either priest or parson, for I’m her sworn husband already, and will bring her straight to the priest the minute she puts her foot on America shore, and until then who dare sneeze at her? You must write to me to say where I am to meet her, and by what ship she will come out; and above all, _whether she is to bring any thing out with her besides herself_--you know what I mean. And, dear mother, when you write to me, you are to put on the back of the letter, Dennis M’Daniel, Esq. for that’s what I am now--not a word of lie in it. So wishing the best of good luck to all the neighbours, and to yourself and to Nelly, I remain, &c. &c. &c.” “Glory to you, Dinny!” was ejaculated on every side, while they all rushed tumultuously forward to congratulate the unwedded bride. In their uproarious hands we leave her, drawing this moral from the whole thing, that it’s very hard to spoil an Irishman entirely, if there be any good at all in him originally. A. M’C. [1] Collector of county cess. THE THREE MONKS. “It was with the good monks of old that sterling hospitality was to be found.”--HANSBROVE’S IRISH GAZETTEER. Three monks sat by a bogwood fire! Shaven their crowns, and their garments grey; Close they sat to that bogwood fire, Watching the wicket till break of day-- Such was ever the rule at Kilcrea;[2] For whoever passed, be he baron or squire, Was free to call at that abbey, and stay, Nor guerdon or hire for his lodging pay, Though he tarried a week with the Holy Quire! Three monks sat by a bogwood fire! Dark look’d the night from the window-pane! They who sat by that bogwood fire Were Eustace, Alleyn, and Giles by name: Long they gazed at the cheerful flame, Till each from his neighbour began to inquire The tale of his life, before he came To Saint Bridget’s shrine, and the cowl had ta’en: So they piled on more wood, and drew their seats nigher!