THE SEVEN SHANTIES.
"Jemmy, come here—come quick, will ye," said a poor, dirty, good-natured looking fellow, to a man as ragged and poor as himself—"step faster, will ye, and help me to raise this wagon."
They lifted up the overturned light carriage and dragged out of the mud—first, a trunk and carpet bag, then a gun case, and lastly the owner of all this, a middle aged man, apparently, who had been stunned by the fall, although in so soft a spot.
He recovered his senses, however, as soon as the men raised him from the ground, and the next thing was to know what to do with him. One of the men, Jemmy Brady, scratched his head and said, "If I had ever a room but the one in which the wife and childer are, I would take the gentleman there any how, but the noise would be too great for him I'm thinking."
"Och! but he'll never mind the childer, God bless them," said the other. "I dare say his honour has plenty of them—the likes of these jontlemen are always fond of young childer."
"You are very much mistaken, my friend," said the stranger, "I do not like children. Is there no
