His pillow was his small clothes, and his quilt
his own coat, under which he slept snugly enough.
The father having proposed, and the son acceded to these arrangements,
the next thing to be done was to pitch upon a proper girl as his wife.
This being a more important matter, was thus discussed by the father and
son, one evening, at their own fireside, in the presence of Sheelah.
"Now, Phelim," said the father, "look about you, an' tell us what girl
in the neighborhood you'd like to be married to."
"Why," replied Phelim, "I'll lave that to you; jist point out the girl
you'd like for your daughter-in-law, an' be she rich, poor, ould, or
ugly, I'll delude her. That's the chat."
"Ah, Phelim, if you could put your comedher an Gracey Dalton, you'd be a
made boy. She has the full of a rabbit-skin o' guineas."
"A made boy! Faith, they say I'm that as it is, you know. But would you
wish me to put my comedher on Gracey Dalton? Spake out."
"To be sure I would."
"Ay," observed the mother, "or what 'ud you think of Miss Pattherson?
That 'ud be the girl. She has a fine farm, an' five hundre pounds. She's
a Protestant, but Phelim could make a Christian of her."
"To be sure I could," said Phelim, "have her thumpin' her breast,
and countin' her Padareens in no time. Would you wish me to have her,
mudher?"
"Throth an' I would, avick.
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