Let's see, now; how old are ye ?" I made no reply, and my father replied gravely: "My son is eighteen." "Is he, now?
And ye're forty, I suppose ?" "I am sorry to say I am over fifty," replied my father, as I stood chafing at the man's insolent, bullying tone.
"Then ye don't look it, sor.

But there, we'll leave ye alone for a bit.
I dare say we can do without ye this time, and take the bhoy." "What for--where ?" said my father quickly.
"What for--where ?" cried the man.

"For the commando, of course." "The commando ?" said my father, while I felt staggered, only half-grasping the import of his words.
"Yes, sor, the commando.

D'ye suppose ye are to have the protection of the State, and do nothing again' your counthry's inimies?
If ye do ye're greatly mistaken.

Every man must take his turn to difind the counthry, and ye may feel preciously contented that ye don't have to join yerself." "But I have heard of no rising," said my father, looking at me anxiously.