was niver thought av foolishness in, An' for that very reason, mark you, he was niver caught. He came close to ut wanst or twice, but caught he niver was, an' that cost him more at the ind than the beginnin'. He talked to me more than most, bekaze he tould me, barrin' the accident av my educashin, I'd av been the same kind av divil he was. " An' is ut like," he wud say, houldin' his head high—"is ut like that I'd iver be thrapped? For fwhat am I when all's said an' done?" he sez. "A damned privit," sez he. " An' is ut like, think you, that thim I know wud be connect wid a privit like me? Number tin thousand four hundred an' sivin," he sez grinnin'. I knew by the turn av his spache when he was not takin' care to talk rough-shod that he was a gentleman-ranker.

• "T do not undherstan' ut at all," I sez; "but |

know," sez I, "that the divil looks ont av your eyes, an' I'll have no share wid you. A little fun by way av amugemint where 'twill do no harm, Larry, is right and fair, but 1am mistook if 'tis any amusemint to you," I sez.

• • You are much mistook," he sez. " An' I counsel you not to judge your betters."

'"My betthers!" I sez. "God help you, Larry. There's no betther in this; 'tis all bad, as ye will find for yoursilf."

• • You're not like me," he says, tossin' his head.

'* Praise the Saints, I ain not," I sez. " Fwhat I have done I have done an' been crool sorry for. Fwhin your time comes," sez J, "yell remimber fwhat 1 say."

«« An' whin that time comes," sez he, " U'H come to you for ghostly consolation, Father Terence," an' at that