"So now, my boy, I'll come to an anchor on the topsail halyard rack, and you may squeeze your thread-paper little carcass under my lee, and then I'll tell you all about it. First and foremost, you must know that I am descended from the great O'Brien Borru, who was king in his time, as the great Fingal was before him. Of course you've heard of Fingal?"
"I can't say that I ever did," replied I.
"Never heard of Fingal!--murder! Where must you have been all your life? Well, then, to give you some notion of Fingal, I will first tell you how Fingal bothered the great Scotch giant, and then I'll go on with my own story. Fingal, you must know, was a giant himself, and no fool of one, and any one that affronted him was as sure of a bating, as I am to keep the middle watch to-night. But there was a giant in Scotland as tall as the mainmast, more or less, as we say when we a'n't quite sure, as it saves telling more lies than there's occasion for. Well, this Scotch giant heard of Fingal, and how he had beaten everybody, and he said, 'Who is this Fingal? By Jasus,' says he in Scotch, 'I'll just walk over and see what he's made of.' So he walked across the Irish Channel, and landed within half-a-mile of Belfast, but whether he was out of his depth or not I can't tell, although I suspect that he was not dry-footed. When Fingal heard that this great chap was coming over, he was in a devil of a fright, for they told him that the Scotchman was taller by a few feet or so. Giants, you know, measure by feet, and don't bother themselves about the inches, as we little devils are obliged to do. So Fingal kept a sharp look-out for the Scotchman, and one fine morning, there he was, sure enough, coming up the hill to Fingal's house. If Fingal was afraid before, he had more reason to be afraid when he saw the fellow, for he looked for all the world like the Monument upon a voyage of discovery. So Fingal ran into his house, and called to his wife Shaya, 'My vourneen,' says he, 'be quick now; there's that big bully of a Scotchman coming up the hill. Kiver me up with the blankets, and if he asks who is in bed, tell him it's the child.' So Fingal laid down on the bed, and his wife had just time to cover him up, when in comes the Scotchman, and though he stooped low, he broke his head against the portal. 'Where's that baste Fingal?' says he, rubbing his forehead; 'show him to me, that I may give him a bating.' 'Whisht, whisht!' cries Shaya, 'you'll wake the babby, and then him that you talk of bating will be the death of you, if he comes in.' 'Is that the babby?' cried the Scotchman with surprise, looking at the great carcass muffled up in the blankets. 'Sure it is,' replied Shaya, 'and Fingal's babby too; so don't you wake him, or Fingal will twist your neck in a minute.' 'By the cross of St Andrew,' replied the giant, 'then it's time for me to be off; for if that's his babby, I'll be but a mouthful to the fellow himself. Good morning to ye.' So the Scotch giant ran out of the house, and never stopped to eat or drink until he got back to his own hills, foreby he was nearly drowned in having mistaken his passage across the Channel in his great hurry. Then Fingal got up and laughed, as well he might, at his own 'cuteness; and so ends my story about Fingal. And now I'll begin about myself. As I said before, I am descended from the great O'Brien, who was a king in his time, but that time's past. I suppose, as the world turns round, my children's children's posterity may be kings again, although there seems but little chance of it just now; but there's ups and downs on a grand scale, as well as in a man's own history, and the wheel of fortune keeps turning for the comfort of those who are at the lowest spoke, as I may be just now. To cut the story a little shorter, I skip down to my great-grandfather, who lived like a real gentleman, as he was, upon his ten thousand a year. At last he died, and eight thousand of the ten was buried with him. My grandfather followed his father all in good course of time, and only left my father about one hundred acres of bog, to keep up the dignity of the family. I am the youngest of ten, and devil a copper have I but my pay, or am I likely to have. You may talk about _descent_, but a more _descending_ family than mine was never in existence, for here am I with twenty-five pounds a-year, and a half-pay of 'nothing a day, and find myself,' when my great ancestor did just what he pleased with all Ireland, and everybody in it. But this is all nothing, except to prove satisfactorily that I am not worth a skillagalee, and that is the reason which induces me to condescend to serve his Majesty. Father M'Grath, the priest, who lived with my father, taught me the elements, as they call them.