“‘Hold on, my brave boy!’ shouted the gentleman, in intense anxiety, ‘and I’ll provide for you for life.’ On he came cautiously. I could not stir, for the weight of the child, half hanging over the cliff on my one hand, was quite as much as I could bear. At length the gentleman reached us, and, holding on by a stout branch of a furze with one hand, he dragged me and my burden up out of danger, and clasping the frightened and crying child in his arms, he said, ‘God be praised! but for this brave boy I should have lost you, my beloved child,’ and he repeatedly kissed the boy till he ceased crying; the lady and her attendant from above anxiously and wildly gazing down on us. The gentleman was in a naval uniform—of course, I did not know it was one then—but his gold epaulette on his shoulders and gold lace attracted my gaze. “‘Now, my fine little fellow, let us get back to the road; luckily we have all escaped, and the postillion is gone into Bantry for help and a post-chaise.’ Well, we soon got up, and then the child was embraced and kissed and made much of by the mother, who was very handsome and young. The chaise or carriage lay on its beam end, that is, it had overturned on its front; so the child was leaning on the door when the accident happened, and its swinging open threw him out. “‘And now, my fine little fellow,’ said the gentleman, sitting down on one of his own trunks thrown out on the road, ‘who are you, and where do you live, for I owe you my child’s life?’ “‘I lives nowhere, sir,’ I replied; and, determined to tell the truth, I said I was a foundling, and had run away because they wanted to make a shoemaker of me, and that I would rather go to sea. “‘Go to sea!’ said the gentleman, his handsome wife standing near us, with her pretty child clasped in her arms; ‘by Jove, that’s just where I am going, and you shall go with me, if you like, and I will take care of you, for it appears by your own account that no one has any claim to you.’ “I kissed the gentleman’s hand, my heart beating with joy. “‘Poor little fellow!’ observed the lady; ‘tell me your name?’ “‘Patrick O’Loughlin,’ I replied. “They both smiled, saying, ‘A very fine name, indeed; very likely his father’s,’ said the gentleman. ‘Don’t think I ever had a father, sir,’ I replied, very quietly. “‘Oh, yes,’ said the gentleman, laughing; ‘you may be quite satisfied you had both father and mother, though they left you to the care of others. But never mind, my little fellow, I will make a man of you.’ Just then we saw the postillion coming up the road, and a post-chaise following, and one or two helpers, and some of the country people attracted by the account of the accident. “The pole only of the gentleman’s carriage was broken, but he and the lady and servant got up into the chaise. I was told to place myself beside the driver, while the postillion remained behind to set up the broken pole and bring the carriage into Bantry.