Now, while he had only to provide for his own immediate wants, and settle the whisky scores of his riotous friends, he had easy work of it. It was only to keep putting his hand into his pocket two or three dozen times a day, and there was more than sufficient. But this kind of existence soon began to grow monotonous, and Terry sighed for the more enviable pleasures of a domestic life, and inasmuch as it was now well understood that Terry was an "eligible party," he had no great difficulty in making a selection. Many of the "down hill" spinsters gave evident indications that they would be nothing loth to take him for better or for worse; and--I'm sorry to have to record the fact--not a few even of the more youthful maidens set their curls at the quondam piper. Neither his age, nor the doubtful source of his revenue, rendering him an unmarketable commodity in the shambles of Hymen.
In process of time, Terry wooed and won a demure-looking little _collieen_, and after having shut himself up for two or three days, accumulating money enough for the interesting and expensive ceremony, was duly bound to her for life. Now, it was that his inexhaustible pocket began to be overhauled continuously, and Terry cursed his imprudence in not asking for guineas instead of shillings. Mrs. Terry Magra possessed a somewhat ambitious desire to outvie her neighbors. Silk dresses were in demand and shawls and bonnets by the cart-load. The constant employment gave Terry the rheumatism in his muscles, until at last it was with the greatest difficulty he could force his hand into his pocket.
Before many months had elapsed, Terry was prostrated upon a sick bed, his side--the pocket-side--completely paralyzed, and as he was not one of those who lay by for a rainy day, his inability to apply to his fairy exchequer caused him to suffer the greatest privation--and where were the boon companions of his joyous hours, now? Vanished--not one of them to be seen--but haply fluttering around some new favorite of fortune, to be in his turn fooled, flattered, and when the dark day came--deserted.
When Terry grew better in health, which he did very slowly, there was a considerable back-way to make up, and the best part of his time was occupied in the mere mechanical labor of bringing out his shillings. Mrs. Magra also became more and more exacting, and the care-worn piper began to acknowledge to himself that, his good fortune was not at all comparable with the anxiety and annoyance it had produced. Again and again he deplored the chance which had placed the temptation in his way, and most especially blamed his own selfish greed, which prevented him from behaving with proper generosity toward the captured leprechaun.