lazing and crackling in
front of them, suffusing their faces and persons and the leaf-canopy
overhead with a deep red glare, that contrasted well with the
ebony-black surroundings, while a rich odour of pork soup exhaled from
the baling-dish.

"Ah! now there's nothin' wantin' to produce parfit felicity but a pipe,"
said O'Connor with a sigh.

"That's so, lad," assented Tomlin, echoing the sigh, and feeling in his
pocket from force of habit, though he knew too well that nothing was to
be found there.

"Here, Terrence," said Massey, handing him an empty pipe, at the same
time asking him to shut his eyes and draw, and try to imagine himself
smoking, but Terrence shook his head.

"I couldn't do that, Bob," he said, "but I'll sing ye a stave in praise
o' the weed."

Without waiting for permission, the jovial Irishman at once began:

"Oh! it's 'baccy as is my chief joy,
At mornin', noon and night;
An' it's verily my belief, boy,
That I love it with all my might.
If your liver an' lungs are squeakin',
An' your head is growin' cracky,
There's nothin' so sure to kill or cure,
As fumes o' the strongest 'baccy."

"If it would improve your voice, Terrence," observed Mr Mitford,
meekly, "I'm sure I wish ye had pounds of it, for it's that harsh--
though, of course, I make no pretence to music myself, but--"

"Just listen to that now, `Harsh!' an' that to a man whose own mother,
by the father's side, towld him he shud make music his purfession!
Arrah, howld on, Black Ned, ye spalpeen; ye've had two helpin's
already!"

This latter remark had reference to the baling-dish of soup which was
being passed round the party, so that each might help himself to two
mouthfuls of soup before passing it on. As they had no spoons, the
doctor had extemporised ladles of folded bark, which served the purpose
pretty well.

"Haven't ye a small bit o' 'baccy in the corner o' wan o' yer pockets,
doctor, dear?" asked Terrence, insinuatingly. "May be ye'd find a
morsel if ye'd try."

"Quite useless to try, my poor fellow," returned the doctor, with a look
of affected pity, "for I'm a non-smoker. I never indulge in such an
absurdity."

"Sure, it's a true proverb that says `doctor's differ,'" retorted
O'Connor, "for most o' the saw-bones of my acquaintance have smoked like
lime kilns."

"More's the pity, Terrence, but if you'll heave on some more firewood
you'll have a smoke that may do as a substitute at present."

B