vil a farthing I'll take off
it. Sure, av ye were a raal gentleman ye'd be givin' a fippenny-bit to
the gossoon there, that sarved you. Never mind, Corny dear, I'll buy a
bag of marbles for you at Banagher.'

Fearful of once more giving way to unseasonable mirth I rushed from the
room and hurried downstairs; the crowd that had so lately accompanied me
was now scattered, each to his several home. The only one who lingered
near the door was the poor idiot (for such he was) that wore the
huntsman's dress.

'Is the Loughrea car gone, Joe?' said I, for I remembered his name.

'She is, yer honour, she's away.'

'Is there any means of getting over to-night?'

'Barrin' walkin', there's none.'

'Ay; but,' said I, 'were I even disposed for that, I have got my
luggage.'

'Is it heavy?' said Joe.

'This portmanteau and the carpet-bag you see there.'

'I'll carry them,' was the brief reply.

'You 'll not be able, my poor fellow,' said I.

'Ay, and you on the top of them.'

'You don't know how heavy I am,' said I laughingly.

'Begorra, I wish you was heavier.'

'And why so, Joe?'

'Because one that was so good to the poor is worth his weight in goold
any day.'

I do not pretend to say whether it was the flattery, or the promise
these words gave me of an agreeable companion _en route_; but, certain
it is, I at once closed with his proposal, and, with a ceremonious bow
to the Grand Canal Hotel, took my departure, and set out for Loughrea.

CHAPTER XXI. LOUGHREA

With the innate courtesy of his country, my humble companion endeavoured
to lighten the road by song and story. There was not a blackened gable,
not a ruined tower, not even a well we passed, without its legend. The
very mountains themselves, that reared their mighty peaks towards
the clouds, had their tale of superstitious horror; and, though
these stories were simple in themselves, there was something in
the association of the scene, something in the warm fervour of his
enthusiasm that touched and thrilled my heart.

Like a lamp, whose fitful glare flickers through the gloomy vault of
some rocky cavern, too feeble to illumine it, but yet calling up wild
and goblin shapes on every side, and peopling space with flickering
spectres, so did the small modicum of intellect this poor fellow
possessed enable him to look at life with strange, distorted views.
Accustomed to pass his days in the open air--the fields, the flowers,
the streams, his companio