50 THE SHAMROCK. 



this for a long while ; and most pathetically en- 

 treated me to pray to God for poor Ireland. All 

 that day he continued very sad : and on bidding 

 me good night, he gave a significant nod to one 

 side, and joined his hands, signifying his intention 

 to have a ' long prayer,' as he used to call it. The 

 next morning I went to the garden ; and most ve 

 hemently did he beckon for me to run till I came 

 to where he stood ; when, with a face flushed with 

 joy, he turned rapidly over the well-moistened 

 earth, then stuck his spade exultingly into it, and 

 told me that he prayed a long while before he 

 went to bed — got up soon after, to pray again — 

 and, on returning to his little couch, slept till morn- 

 ing ; — that while Jack was asleep, God who had 

 looked at his prayer, made a large cloud, and sent 

 much rain ; and now potatoes, would grow, poor 

 Irish would be fat and strong ; and God, who sent 

 the rain, would send them bibles. He then lifted 

 up his face to heaven, and with a look of unbound- 

 ed love — so reverential, yet so sweetly confiding 

 — such as I never beheld on any other countenance, 

 he said, 'Good, good Jesus Christ!' Often when 

 my heart is particularly heavy, for the wants and 

 woes of Ireland, do I recall that triumphant faith 

 in which the boy pleaded for it, day by day, for 

 seven years ; and it gives me comfort more solid 

 than can well be imagined. 



His expression, that God looked at, or saw his 



