I ran after him the way which the child directed, and was so fortunate as just to catch a glimpse of the skirt of his coat as he went into a neat, good-looking house. I walked up and down for some time, expecting him to come out again; for I could not suppose that it belonged to Barny. I asked a grocer who was leaning over his hatch-door, if he knew who lived in the next house? “An Irish gentleman of the name of O’Grady.” “And his Christian name?” “Here it is in my books, sir--Barnaby O’Grady.” I knocked at Mr O’Grady’s door, and made my way into the parlour, where I found him, his two sons, and his wife, sitting very sociably at tea. He and the two young men rose immediately, to set me a chair. “You are welcome, kindly welcome, sir,” said he. “This is an honour I never expected, any way. Be pleased to take the seat next the fire. ’Twould be hard indeed if you should not have the best seat’s that to be had in this house, where we none of us ever should have sat, nor had seats to sit upon, but for you.” The sons pulled off my shabby greatcoat, and took away my hat, and Mrs O’Grady made up the fire. There was something in their manner, altogether, which touched me so much that it was with difficulty I could keep myself from bursting into tears. They saw this, and Barny (for I shall never call him any thing else), as he thought that I should like better to hear of public affairs than to speak of my own, began to ask his sons if they had seen the day’s paper, and what news there were. As soon as I could command my voice, I congratulated this family upon the happy situation in which I found them, and asked by what lucky accident they had succeeded so well.