“He every day comes as evening approaches and gives me a demi-florin; I know not from whom. It is not, indeed, always proper to learn all things; so I do not breathe a word. I am sometimes tempted to believe, that it is the devil who is anxious to buy my soul; but it matters little, I have not consented to the bargain, therefore it cannot be valid.”

“I verily believe that grey surtout has some malice in his head: so follow me; and you shall have a quarter-florin over and above the bargain.”

Francis conducted the old man to a distant corner, near the ramparts of the city, stopped before a newly-built house, and knocked at the door. As soon as the door was opened, he thus addressed the old beggar:—“You have procured a very agreeable evening for me in the course of my life; it is but just, therefore, that I should shed some comfort and joy over your declining days. This house and every thing appertaining thereto belongs to you. The kitchen and cellar are both well stocked; there is a person to take care of you, and every day at dinner you will find a quarter-florin under your plate. It is now time for you to know that the man in the grey surtout is my servant, whom I every day sent with my alms till this house was ready to receive you. You may, if you please, consider me as your guardian angel, since your good angel did not acquit himself uprightly in return for your gratitude.”

Saying this, he made the old man go into the house, where the latter found every thing he could possibly desire or want. The table was spread; and the old man was so much astonished at his unexpected good fortune, that he thought it must be a dream; for he could in no way imagine why a rich man should feel so much interest for a miserable beggar. Francis having again assured him that every thing he saw was his own, a torrent of tears expressed his thanks; and before he could sufficiently recover to express his gratitude by words, Francis had vanished.

The following day, mother Bridget’s house was filled with merchants and shopkeepers of all descriptions, whom Francis had sent to Meta, in order that she might purchase and get ready every thing she required for her appearance in the world with suitable éclat. Three weeks afterwards he conducted her to the altar. The splendour of the wedding far exceeded that of the King of Hops. Mother Bridget enjoyed the satisfaction of adorning her daughter’s forehead with the nuptial crown, and thereby obtained the accomplishment of all her desires, and was recompensed for her virtuous and active life. She witnessed her daughter’s happiness with delight, and proved the very best of grandmothers to her daughter’s children.

THE SLEEPING FRIAR;
OR,
THE STONE OF FATHER CUDDY.

Above all the islands in the Lakes of Killarney, give me Innisfallen—“sweet Innisfallen,” as the melodious Moore calls it. It is in truth a fairy isle, although I have no fairy story to tell you about it; and if I had these are such unbelieving times, and people of late have grown so sceptical, that they only smile at my stones and doubt them.

However none will doubt that a monastery stood once upon Innisfallen Island, for its ruins may still be seen; neither, that within its walls dwelt certain pious and learned persons called monks. A very pleasant set of fellows they were, I make not the least doubt; and I am sure of this, that they had a very pleasant spot to enjoy themselves in after dinner:—the proper time, believe me, and I am no bad judge of such matters, for the enjoyment of a fine prospect.

Out of all the monks you could not pick a better fellow nor a merrier soul than Father Cuddy;—he sang a good song, he told a good story, and had a jolly, comfortable-looking paunch of his own that was a credit to any refectory table. He was distinguished by the name of “the fat Father.” Now there are many that will take huff at a name: but Father Cuddy had no nonsense of that kind about him; he laughed at it, and well able he was to laugh, for his mouth nearly reached from one ear to the other,—his might in truth be called an open countenance. As his paunch was no disgrace to his food, neither was his nose to his drink. ’Tis a question to me if there were not more carbuncles upon it than ever were seen at the bottom of the lake, which is said to be full of them. His eyes had a right merry twinkle in them, like moonshine dancing on the water, and his cheeks had the roundness and crimson glow of ripe arbutus berries.

He ate, and drank, and prayed, and slept,—what then?
He ate, and drank, and prayed, and slept again!