ne little
plot of ground remaining; and I put it on you, Peter,--as ye wish to
live a good man, and die with the same easy heart I do now,--that ye
mind my last words to ye here. Are ye listening? Are the neighbors
listening? Is Billy Scanlan listening?"

"Yes, sir. Yes, father. We're all minding," chorused the audience.

"Well, then, it's my last will and testament, and may--Give me over the
jug." Here he took a long drink. "And may that blessed liquor be poison
to me if I 'm not as eager about this as every other part of my will.
I say, then, I bequeath the little plot at the cross-roads to poor Con
Cre-gan; for he has a heavy charge, and is as honest and as hard-working
a man as ever I knew. Be a friend to him, Peter, dear; never let him
want while ye have it yourself; think of me on my death-bed whenever he
asks ye for any trifle. Is it down, Billy Scanlan? the two acres at the
cross to Con Cregan and his heirs in _secla seclorum_. Ah, blessed be
the saints! but I feel my heart lighter after that," says he; "a good
work makes an easy conscience. And now I 'll drink all the company's
good health, and many happy returns--"

What he was going to add, there 's no saying; but Peter, who was now
terribly frightened at the lively tone the sick man was assuming,
hurried all the people away into another room, to let his father die in
peace.

When they were all gone Peter slipped back to my father, who was putting
on his brogues in a corner. "Con," says he, "ye did it all well; but
sure that was a joke about the two acres at the cross."

"Of course it was, Peter," says he; "sure it was all a joke, for the
matter of that. Won't I make the neighbors laugh hearty to-morrow when I
tell them all about it!"

"You wouldn't be mean enough to betray me?" says Peter, trembling with
fright.

"Sure ye would n't be mean enough to go against yer father's dying
words," says my father,--"the last sentence ever he spoke? And here he
gave a low, wicked laugh, that made myself shake with fear.

"Very well, Con!" says Peter, holding out his hand; "a bargain's a
bargain; yer a deep fellow, that's all!" And so it ended; and my father
slipped quietly home over the bog, mighty well satisfied with the legacy
he left himself.

And thus we became the owners of the little spot known to this day as
Con's Acre; of which, more hereafter.

CHAPTER II. ANOTHER PEEP AT MY FATHER

My father's prosperity had the usual effect it has on similar