her
for that--an' see, before you mix it, go an' bring my own darlin' Art,
till he dhrinks his mother's health."

"Why now, Art," began his brother, "is it possible that you can have the
conscience to taich the poor boy sich a cursed habit so soon? What
are you about this minute but trainin' him up to what may be his own
destruction yet?"

"Come now, Frank, none of your moralizin'," the truth is, that the punch
was beginning rapidly to affect his head; "none of your moralizin',
throth it's a preacher you ought to be, or a lawyer, to lay down the
law. Here, Madgey, bring him to me; that's my son, that there isn't the
like of in Ballykeerin, any way. Eh, Frank, it's ashamed of him I ought
to be, isn't it? Kiss me, Art, and then kiss your uncle Frank, the best
uncle that ever broke the world's bread is the same Frank--that's a good
boy, Art; come now, drink your darlin' mother's health in this glass of
brave punch; my mother's health, say, long life an' happiness to her!
that's a man, toss it off at wanst, bravo; arra, Frank, didn't he do
that manly? the Lord love him, where 'ud you get sich a fine swaddy as
he is of his age? Oh, Frank, what 'ud become of me if anything happened
that boy? it's a mad-house would hould me soon. May the Lord in heaven
save and guard him from all evil and clanger!"

Frank saw that it was useless to remonstrate with him at such a
moment, for the truth is, intoxication was setting in fast, and all his
influence over him was gone.

"Here, Atty, before you go to bed agin, jist a weeshy sup more to drink
your little sisther's health; sure Kate Sharpe brought you home a little
sisther, Atty."

"The boy's head will not be able to stand so much," said Frank; "you
will make him tipsy."

"Divil a tipsy; sure it's only a mere draineen."

He then made the little fellow drink the baby's health, after which he
was despatched to bed.

"Throth, it's in for a penny in for a pound wid myself. I know, Frank,
that--that there's something or other wrong wid my head, or at any rate
wid my eyes; for everything, somehow, is movin'. Is everything movin',
Frank?"

"You think so," said Frank, "because you're fast getting tipsy--if you
arn't tipsy all out."

"Well, then, if I'm tip--tipsy, divil a bit the worse I can be by
another tumbler. Come, Frank, here's the ould blood of Ireland--the
Maguires of Fermanagh! And now, Frank, I tell you, it would more become
you to drink that toast, than to be sittin' the