160
AN GAODHAL.
bualtán coill do bhuailfinn griosach as
an d-talmhain & doghéanfainn mionbhrus
den' easair ó luingir an lae ghil go tui¬
tim na neall um thráthnóna." "Atá go
maith," ar an Sgológ, "buail isteach chum
do choda & teasbhach na teine."
Do dhruidsead araon rompa go roch¬
tain an tighe dhóibh; leagas an buailteoir
a shuiste fa chúl an doruis, agus muna
raibh teine & teagair, togha bidh & tarr¬
aing ar bhaine ramhar maille le fáilte
fairsing ag an bhean an tighe mhiochair
mhúinte, rés an dtaistealach, ní lá fós
é. Do shuidh sé i n-iomlachán an chláir &
do chrom gan spás gan faothamh léir-
ruathar craos-sluige d' imirt ar na
prátaidhibh le neart a ochrais gur líon¬
adh a ghoile fa dheireadh den réim sin.
Annsan adubhairt bean an tighe gur
náir lé' a innsin acht níor bhféidir lé'
aon bhluire beag muic-fheola do chur os
a chomhair mar nach raibh sí ar n-a bruith¬
neadh acu an t-am sin d'oidhche.
"Níor ghabha dhuit teacht tairis a bhean,"
ar sé, "bhí lá agam-sa & níor chleachtas
bheith folamh acht is fad ó do fhoglamas
deimhin an sgeul sin, an tí nach blais¬
eann an fheoil gur mór an t-sodh leis an
t-anbhruith."
Ar g-caiteamh a choda dón bhuailueoir
do shuidh go sámh sásta ar suidhiste bhí
re h-ais an h-iarta & d'innis sé a sgéul
go mhuintir an tighe ó thosach go deireadh
mar atáim ag cur síos annso :
"Is duine mé," ar sé, "do bhí saidhbhir,
lán-ghradhamach, tamall dom' shaoghal gur
imthigh an miodhádh orm alos mioruin m'
intinne féin gur beanadh gach maoin &
ionnmhas saoghalta dhíom thríd. Agus
gidh go bh-fuilim 'san riocht so 'n-a bh-
faictí mé do láthair anois, & gidh go bh-
fuilim ag eiliomh déirce beagnach, a fhios
do gach seithleach triallta an bhóthair ma
bhódhas-sa na aoinneach dom chineadh a¬
riamh gann fá 'n mbiadh; oir budh ghnáth¬
ach gach duine bocht d'á d-tiocfadh fa
dhíon an áruis sin aguinne lán a mhála
d' faghbhail sul d'imtheochadh. Acht ní
feirrde dhuinn anois an sealbh bhí againn
anallód ná an mheid do dháileamar id¬
ir na bochtaibh, mar do chomhraigsead
morrow morning. But, thresher, tell
me this, what is thy choice of appoint¬
ments for threshing" ? “O," said the
thresher, "if I had a bare floor and a
hazel striking stick I would knock
sparks out of the ground and make bits
of the corn layer from the first showing
of the bright day until the fall of clouds
at eventide." “All is well,” said the far¬
mer, “come in with me to your supper
and the heat of the fire."
They both moved before them (for¬
ward) until they reached the house; the
thresher leaves his flail behind the
door and it is not day yet if the house-
wife of mild deportment, good-natured
had not fire and favour, chioce of food
and churns of thick milk, together with
hearty welcome for the traveller. He
sat down at the middle of the table and
forthwith without delay or abatement
began to inflict gullet swallowing des¬
truction on the potatoes, so great his
hunger, until at length his belly was
filled in that way. Then the house-wife
said she was ashamed to say so but it
was not in her power to lay a single lit¬
tle piece of pork before him because
they had none boiled at such a time of
the night.
“There was no necessity for thee to
mention it woman," said he, “one time
it was not my custom to be empty but
I have learned long since then the truth
of the saying that a person who cannot
get meat is well enough pleased with
the broth."
Having taken his supper the thresher
sat pleased and comfortable on a straw
'boss' beside the hob and told his story
to the people of the house from begin¬
ning to end as I am about to set down
here.
I am one, said he, that had riches and
the esteem of all a part of my life, un¬
til misfortune fell on me on account of
a luckless design of my own that caus¬
ed me to lose my means and store of
wealth. And although I am in this
condition in which you behold me at
present, and although I am, as I may
say, almost seeking alms, still every
wretched one travelling the road knows
