A few small birds made their appearance from the southward, and these were hailed as harbingers of the coming summer.
One day O'Riley sat on the taffrail, basking in the warm sun, and drinking in health and gladness from its beams.

He had been ill, and was now convalescent.

Buzzby stood beside him.
"I've bin thinkin'," said Buzzby, "that we don't half know the blessin's that are given to us in this here world till we've had 'em taken away.
Look, now, how we're enjoyin' the sun an' the heat, just as if it wos so much gold!" "Goold!" echoed O'Riley, in a tone of contempt; "faix I niver thought so little o' goold before, let me tell ye.

Goold can buy many a thing, it can, but it can't buy sunshine.

Hallo! what's this ?" O'Riley accompanied the question with a sudden snatch of his hand.
"Look here, Buzzby! Have a care, now! jist watch the openin' o' my fist." "Wot is it ?" inquired Buzzby, approaching, and looking earnestly at his comrade's clinched hand with some curiosity.
"There he comes! Now, then, not so fast, ye spalpeen!" As he spoke, a small fly, which had been captured, crept out from between his fingers, and sought to escape.