Year: 1872

Pat was as nice boy as old Ireland
holds; and clever at his trade he'd have
been, if only he'd learned one. But
he'd never had any parents to speak
of, and they taught him nothing, so
when he was come to years of discretion
he earned his living by running errands
used to tramp to the town with commis-
sions from country folks who couldn't
spare time to go; and Pat could always
be trusted to make the best of a bar
gain, and bring back all the change, for
he was the soul of honesty and kind
ness.


It's no wonder then that he was be-
loved by everyone, and got as much
work as he could do, and if the pay
had but fitted the work, he'd have been
comfortable too. But as it was, what
he got wouldn't have kept him in shoe
leather, but for his making both ends
meet by wearing his shoes in his pocll-
ct, except when he was in town, and
obliged to look genteel for the credit of
the place he came from.


Now Pat was as sober boy as you'll
meet with anywhere in the world, from
Ballyhillin to Kenmare but the best
of us may be overtaken, and Pat be-
thought him afterward of cup of tea
that some one had given him, that had
taste through it that was neither sl-
gar nor cream. This was on a market
day that am going to speak of, and
when he started home in the evening,
with his parcels all correct, as usual, he
never bethought him to take off his
brogues, but tramped on us if shoe
leather were Just made to be knocked
to bits on the kings highway.


Well, everybody knows there are two
ways home from the town; and that's
not meaning the right way nor the
wrong way, which my grandmother
(rest her soul y said there was to every
place but one that it's not genteel to
name. There could only be wrong
way More, she said. The two ways home
from the town were the highway, and
the way by Murdochs Rath.


Now Murdoch's Rath was pleasant
enough spot in the day time, but not
many persons cared to go by it when
the sun was down. And in all the
years Pat had been going backward or
forward to the town, he had dnever come
home except by the high road. But
on this particular evening, when he
came to the place where the two roads
part, he got, as one may say, into a
sort of confusion. And this was how it
was. He knew, as we'll as anyone, that
he was bit overtaken, and that it be-
hoved him to take uncommon care,
both of himself and what he carried
so says he to himself, "Halt |" says he
(for his own uncle had been a soldier,
and Pat knew the word of command).
''The left turn is the right one," said he :;
"and what Pm naming is, that the right
turn is to the left" And he was going
down the high road as straight as he
could 60 (which was pretty steadily,
considering the ruts) when suddenly
he bethought himself, "and what am |
doing" says he; "Mother Martins
strong tea is to be the ruin of me, that's
clear. This was my left haLd going to
town, and how in the name of good
luck could it be my left going back, con.
sidering that I've turned round? IT..
well that | looked into it in time,n
said he. And he went as fast down
the other road as he had started down
that.





rough and narrow one, and Pat got
along but badly. But he was a good
humored soul, and when he tumbled
first against one hedge and then against
the other, all that he said was, "rhere
isn't far to fall" And when he caught
his shoe on stone, and fell with his
lace IN the grippe of the ditch, he said
II assure your honor it's my head to
blame, though it looks to be my feet"
Tor Pat knew his own meaning at the
worst of times, and had as much reason
IN him rs any other man in Ireland.


NOW, as good luck would have it, there
nad been some rain lately, and Pats
lace was in the water, and this was how
ne came out of it as sober as if Mother
martin tea had never passed his lips
And after that he got on Lrayely, though
he could not bethink himself which par,
OF the road he was in and all of a sud
den the moon shone out as bright al