“Faith, if you want to know who I am; I'm Pettier Connor the mower, that never seen to-morrow. Be Gorra, poor boy, you mustn't let your spirits down at all at all. Sure the neighbors is all bint to watch an' take care of you.--May I take away the shovel?--an' they've built a brave snug shed here beside yours, where they'll stay wid you time about until you get well. We'll feed you wid whay enough, bekase we've made up our minds to stale lots o' sweet milk for you. Ned Branagan an' I will milk Kody Hartigan's cows to-night, wid the help o' God. Divil a bit sin in it, so there isn't, an' if there is, too, be my sowl there's no harm in it any way--for he's but a nager himself, the same Rody. So, acushla, keep a light heart, for, be Gorra, you're sure o' the thin pair o' throwsers, any how. Don't think you're desarted--for you're not. It's all in regard o' bein' afeard o' this faver, or it's not this way you'd be; but, as I said a while agone, when you want anything, spake, for you'll still find two or three of us beside you here, night an' day. Now, won't you promise to keep your mind asy, when you know that we're beside you?” “God bless you,” replied Jemmy, “you've taken a weight off of my heart. I thought I'd die wid nobody near me at all.” “Oh, the sorra fear of it. Keep your heart up. We'll stale lots o' milk for you. Bad scran to the baste in the parish but we'll milk, sooner nor you'd want the whay, you crathur you.” The boy felt relieved, but his malady increased; and were it not that the confidence of being thus watched and attended to supported him, it is more than probable he would have sunk under it. When the hour of closing the day's labor arrived, Major ------ came down to inspect the progress which his mowers had made, and the goodness of his crop upon his meadows. No sooner was he perceived at a distance, than the scythes were instantly resumed, and the mowers pursued their employment with an appearance of zeal and honesty that could not be suspected. On arriving at the meadows, however, he was evidently startled at the miserable day's work they had performed. “Why, Connor,” said he, addressing the nurse-tender, “how is this? I protest you have not performed half a day's labor! This is miserable and shameful.” “Bedad, Major, it's thrue for your honor, sure enough. It's a poor day's work, the I never a doubt of it. But be all the books; that never was opened or shut, busier men! than we wor since mornin' couldn't be had; for love or money. You see, Major, these meadows, bad luck to them!--God pardon me for cursin' the harmless crathurs, for sure 'tisn't their fau't, sir: but you see, Major, I'll insinse you into it. Now look here, your honor. Did you ever see deeper: meadow nor that same, since you war foal---hem--sintce you war born, your honor? Maybe, your honor, Major, 'ud just take the scythe an' sthrive to cut a swaythe?” “Nonsense, Connor; don't you know I cannot.”