There was a strong farmer one time and he was the boastfullest man in all Ireland. He had a tidy, comfortable place, sure enough, but to hear him speaking you’d be thinking his house was built of silver and thatched with the purest gold.

Herself was a very different sort of a person, kindly and simple-hearted; she took no pleasure in making out she had more property and grandeur than another body; and she was neither envious, uncharitable, nor a clash.

The two had but one child, a daughter, and she was their whole delight. Bride was a beautiful white girl with a countenance on her would charm a king from his golden [116]throne to be walking the bogs with herself. The boys were flocking after her by the score, and she had but to raise her hand to draw any one of them to her side. But, being a seemly, well-reared lass, she took her diversion without any consideration of marriage at all—well satisfied her father would be making a fitting settlement for her when the time came.

The youth of the world will always be playing themselves and chatting together, all the while them that have right wit and a good upbringing do leave their settlement in the hands of the parents have the best understanding for the same.

“I’m thinking,” says himself one evening, “that it’s old and stiff I am growing. It might be a powerful advantage to take a son-in-law into the place, the way I’d get sitting in peace by the hearth, and he out in the fields attending to the management of all.”

“Bride is full young to be joining the world,” says his wife. “But I will not be putting any hindrance in the way of it, for maybe it’s better contented she’d be to have a fine man of her own, foreby to be looking [117]on an old pair like ourselves, and we dozing by the fire of an evening.”

“I’ll be making a little settlement for her, surely,” says himself.

The next day he gave out through the country that Bride was to be married. What with the little handful of money, the fine farm of land and the looks of the girl, the suitors were coming in plenty. There were strong farmers, small farmers, tradesmen and dealers; a cow doctor, a blacksmith, and evenly a man that travelled in tea. Himself was disgusted with all; he put out the farmers and dealers very civil and stiff, but the tea man he stoned down the road for a couple of miles.

The next suitor to come was a beautiful young lad the name of Shan Alec. He was a tasty worker, and he had the best of good money was left him by his da. Now if you were to seek all Ireland ten times through, I’ll go bail you wouldn’t be finding a more suitable match nor Shan Alec and Bride. The girl and her mother were fair wild with delight, but they got an odious disappointment for didn’t himself run the poor boy out of the house. [118]

“I’m surprised at you,” says the wife. “Why couldn’t you have wit and give that decent lad an honourable reception?”

“Is it to give my daughter to yon country coley?” says he. “And I the warmest man in these parts.”

“A better match for her like isn’t walking this earth,” says the wife.

“Hold your whisht, woman,” says he. “I’d sooner let the devil have her than see her join the world with Shan Alec.”

“What is on you at all to be speaking such foolishness?” asks herself.

“I’d have you to know,” says he, “that I’ll have a gentleman for my son-in-law and no common person at all.”

“It is the raving of prosperity is on you,” says she. “And that is the worst madness out.”

“Speak easy,” says he, “or maybe I’ll correct you with the pot stick.”

With that she allowed he be to be gone daft entirely, or he’d never have such an unseemly thought as to raise his hand to a woman.

“Hold your whisht,” he answers. “Surely ’tis both hand and foot I’ll be giving you unless you quit tongueing.” [119]

Not a long afterwar............