fly off in a tangent," said he, "and, when called upon to exhibit his
skill in Greek, will be found proficient in Irish; I have observed the
poor lad attentively, and really do not know what to make of him; but I
am afraid he will never make a churchman!" And I have no doubt that my
excellent father was right, both in his premises and the conclusion at
which he arrived. I had undoubtedly, at one period of my life, forsaken
Greek for Irish, and the instructions of a learned Protestant divine for
those of a Papist gassoon, the card-fancying Murtagh; and of late, though
I kept it a strict secret, I had abandoned in a great measure the study
of the beautiful Italian, and the recitation of the sonorous terzets of
the Divine Comedy, in which at one time I took the greatest delight, in
order to become acquainted with the broken speech, and yet more broken
songs, of certain houseless wanderers whom I had met at a horse fair.
Such an erratic course was certainly by no means in consonance with the
sober and unvarying routine of college study. And my father, who was a
man of excellent common sense, displayed it, in not pressing me to adopt
a profession which required qualities of mind which he saw I did not
possess.

Other professions were talked of, amongst which the law; but now an event
occurred which had nearly stopped my career, and merged all minor points
of solicitude in anxiety for my life. My strength and appetite suddenly
deserted me, and I began to pine and droop. Some said that I had
overgrown myself, and that these were the symptoms of a rapid decline; I
grew worse and worse, and was soon stretched upon my bed, from which it
seemed scarcely probable that I should ever more rise, the physicians
themselves giving but slight hopes of my recovery; as for myself, I made
up my mind to die, and felt quite resigned. I was sadly ignorant at that
time, and, when I thought of death, it appeared to me little else than a
pleasant sleep, and I wished for sleep, of which I got but little. It
was well that I did not die that time, for I repeat that I was sadly
ignorant of many important things. I did not die, for somebody coming,
gave me a strange, bitter draught; a decoction, I believe, of a bitter
root which grows on commons and desolate places; and the person who gave
it me was an ancient female, a kind of doctress, who had been my nurse in
my infancy, and who, hearing of my state, had come to see me; so I drank
the draugh