d been twenty years at the
business, and lilted up 'Sheela na guira' in the finest style
imaginable.

All were in astonishment: the poor woman crossed herself. Tim, who, as
I said before, was _dark_, and did not well know who was playing, was
in great delight; and when he heard that it was a little _prechan_ not
five years old, that had never seen a set of pipes in his life, he
wished the mother joy of her son; offered to take him off her hands if
she would part with him, swore he was a _born_ piper, a natural
_genus_, and declared that in a little time more, with the help of a
little good instruction from himself, there would not be his match in
the whole country. The poor woman was greatly delighted to hear all
this, particularly as what Tim said about natural _genus_ quieted some
misgivings that were rising in her mind, lest what the neighbours said
about his not being right might be too true; and it gratified her
moreover to think that her dear child (for she really loved the whelp)
would not be forced to turn out and beg, but might earn decent bread
for himself. So when Mick came home in the evening from his work, she
up and told him all that had happened, and all that Tim Carrol had
said; and Mick, as was natural, was very glad to hear it, for the
helpless condition of the poor creature was a great trouble to him. So
next day he took the pig to the fair, and with what it brought set
off to Clonmel, and bespoke a bran-new set of pipes, of the proper
size for him.

In about a fortnight the pipes came home, and the moment the chap in
his cradle laid eyes on them he squealed with delight and threw up his
pretty legs, and bumped himself in his cradle, and went on with a
great many comical tricks; till at last, to quiet him, they gave him
the pipes, and he immediately set to and pulled away at 'Jig Polthog,'
to the admiration of all who heard him.

The fame of his skill on the pipes soon spread far and near, for there
was not a piper in the six next counties could come at all near him,
in 'Old Moderagh rue,' or 'The Hare in the Corn,' or 'The Fox-hunter's
Jig,' or 'The Rakes of Cashel,' or 'The Piper's Maggot,' or any of the
fine Irish jigs which make people dance whether they will or no: and
it was surprising to hear him rattle away 'The Fox-hunt'; you'd really
think you heard the hounds giving tongue, and the terriers yelping
always behind, and the huntsman and the whippers-in cheering or
correcting the dogs; it w