able to determine
on what particular friend he should first call. That his welcome would
be hospitable, nay, enthusiastically so, he was certain. In the meantime
he vigorously pursued his journey; and partook neither of refreshment
nor rest, until he arrived, a little after dusk, at a turn of the
well-known road, which, had it been daylight, would have opened to him a
view of Tubber Derg. He looked towards the beeches, however, under which
it stood; but to gain a sight of it was impossible. His road now lying
a little to the right, he turned to the house of his sterling friend,
Frank Farrell, who had given him and his family shelter and support,
when he was driven, without remorse, from his own holding. In a
short time he reached Frank's residence, and felt a glow of sincere
satisfaction at finding the same air of comfort and warmth about it
as formerly. Through the kitchen window he saw the strong light of the
blazing fire and heard, ere he presented himself, the loud hearty laugh
of his friend's wife, precisely as light and animated as it had been
fifteen years before.

Owen lifted the latch and entered, with that fluttering of the pulse
which every man feels on meeting with a friend, after an interval of
many years.

"Musha, good people, can ye tell me is Frank Farrell at home?"

"Why, thin, he's not jist widin now, but he'll be here in no time
entirely," replied one of his daughters. "Won't you sit down, honest
man, an' we'll sind for him."

"I'm thankful to you," said Owen. "I'll sit, sure enough, till he comes
in."

"Why thin!--eh! it must--it can be no other!" exclaimed Farrell's wife,
bringing! over a candle and looking Owen earnestly in the face; "sure
I'd know that voice all the world over! Why, thin, marciful
Father--Owen M'Carthy,--Owen M'Carthy, is it your four quarthers that's
livin' an' well? Queen o' heaven, Owen M'Carthy darlin', you're
welcome!" the word was here interrupted by a hearty kiss from the kind
housewife;--welcome a thousand an' a thousand times! _Vick ne hoiah!_
Owen dear, an' are you livin' at all? An' Kathleen, Owen, an' the
childhre, an' all of yez--an' how are they?"

"Throth, we're livin' an' well, Bridget; never was betther, thanks be to
God an' you, in our lives."

Owen was now surrounded by such of Farrell's children as were old enough
to remember him; every one of whom he shook hands with, and kissed.

"Why, thin, the Lord save my sowl, Bridget," said he, "are these the