[Midlands] Rning the old farmer, who claimed the ownership of our

[Miene]

AMONG THE IRISH However, the butcher and I parted company. I went back
to the tavern I had been resting at, and explained matters to the
landlady and her good master. He did not receive me very acceptably, and
told me that he "could sleep on a clothes-line this weather." I didn't
like to contradict him. His wife rather pitied me, and said there were
half-a-dozen harvesters in the taproom and I might arrange to spend the
night with them. Acting on the principle that half-a-loaf is better than
no bread, I allowed the landlord to introduce me to the company in the
taproom. The company consisted of half-a-dozen Irish harvesters "on the
spree." "Can you take this man as a lodger?" asks the landlord. "Oh,
yes, if he behaves himself," one readily exclaimed, and another chimed
in, "If he doesn't, be jabers! we'll mak' him." I fully ingratiated
myself into their good graces for the night by "standing a gallon
round." I took part in the general amusement, and sang for them the
song, "Shan Van Vocht," in Irish Gaelic, until they all swore I was a
countryman of theirs. The night wore on with song and clatter, And ah!
the ale was growing better. THE BARN DORMITORY--THE FIRE Sometime late
at night we retired to rest--or to try to rest. The prospective scene of
our slumbers was a barn at the back of the tavern. By the light of a
candle we had with