'Well, Patrick, what do you think of this beautiful spot?'
'Och, yer honor, and I think its just the most illigant little spot in the world, where the pratees, [meaning, possibly, the oranges and lemons,] grow on the trees, and where one never sees a snake, nor a sarpint at all, at all. Sure, and I think that the blessed Saint Patrick must have stopped at this place in the course of his travels, and killed all the snakes, and the frogs, and the vipers, bad luck to them, as he did in ould Ireland.'
'But how should you like to live here altogether?' asked Henry.
'Live, is it, master Henry? Sure, an I had rather live here than any place in the wide world, besides barrin my own blessed ould Ireland.'
'What, alone?' again asked Huntington.
'By the powers, sir, no, not a bit of it,' replied the Patlander. 'The devil a bit would Pat O'Leary wish to live alone in any place, bat I was just thinking, master Henry, that if you and Miss Hamilton, bless the light of her blessed black eyes, would only consint to be married, and live upon this pretty, convanient little island, what a nate, clane, comfortable serving man you might have in Patrick O'Leary.'
Not knowing exactly, in what way to reply to Patrick's last speech, Henry remained for the time silent, and they thus proceeded on their journey, ascending first to the top of one hill, then after passing through a fertile and beautiful valley, ascending another, until at last they got completely tired. As they reached the second valley, Henry spoke as follows:
'I think we had better rest here awhile, Patrick.'
'Just as you plase, sir,' answered his companion, 'rest or go on, it's all one to Paddy O'Leary.'
'Then I guess we will stop here,' said Henry.