bog for his 'an'r!" said Andy, grinning as he turned round on his seat.
Dick Sutherland, I was glad to see, did not suspect the joke. He took Andy's remark quite seriously, and said to me:—
"My dear fellow, it is delightful to find you so interested in my own topic."
I could not allow him to think me a savant. In the first place he would very soon find me out, and would then suspect my motives ever after. And again, I had to accept Andy's statement, or let it appear that I had some other reason or motive—or what would seem even more suspicious still, none at all; so I answered:—
"My dear Dick, my zeal regarding bog is new; it is at present in its incipient stage in so far as erudition is concerned. The fact is, that although I would like to learn a lot about it, I am at the present moment profoundly ignorant on the subject."
"Like the rest of mankind!" said Dick. "You will hardly believe that although the subject is one of vital interest to thousands of persons in our own country—one in which national prosperity is mixed up to a large extent—one which touches deeply the happiness and material prosperity of a large section of Irish people, and so helps to mould their political action, there are hardly any works on the subject in existence."
"Surely you are mistaken," I answered.
"No! unfortunately, I am not. There is a Danish book, but it is geographically local; and some informa-
