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V01.  InOne umber.

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No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK.

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Q’ublis/Lers,

l‘en Cents.

 

 

Hand}; Andy.

BY SAMUEL LOVER.

CHAPTER I.

ANDY Roosnv was a fellowwho had the most singu-
larly enious knack of doing evelrlythi the wron
way; d sappointment waited on a afla rs in whic
he bore at art, and destruction was at his fingers‘
ends; so tiie nickname the neighbors stuck upon
him was Handy Andy, and the jeering jingle pleased
them.

Andy‘s entrance into this world was quite in char-
acter with his after achievements, for he was nearly
the death of his mother. She survived however, to
have herself clawed almost to death while her darling
“ babb ” was in arms, for he would not take his
nouris ment from the parent fount unless he had one
of his little red fists twisted into his mother‘s hair,
which he dragged till he made her roar; while he di-
mted the pain b scratchin her, till the blood
came, With the ot er. Nevert eless, she swore he
was “ the loveliest and sweetest craythur the sun
iver shined u n'” and when he was able to run
about and wie d a little stick, and smash everything
breakable belongiii to her, she onl praised his pre-
cocious powers, an she used to as , “ Did ever any
gnejsfie; a darlin‘ of his age handle a stick so bowld as

e l( .'

Andy grew up in mischief and the admiration of
his mammy; but, to do him ustice, he never meant
harm in the couise of his ife, and he was most
anxious to offer his services on all occasions to those
who would accept them; but they were only the per-
sons who had not already proved Andy’s peculiar

wers.

There was a farmer hard by in this bap y state of
ignorance, named Owen Doyle, or, as e was fa-
miliarly called, Owny no Ooppal, or, “Owen of the
Horses,” because he bred many of these ammals,
and sold them at the neighboring fairs; and Andy
one day oflered his services to Owny when he was in
want of some one to drive 11 ahorse to his house
from a distant “ bottom “ as ow grounds by a river-
side are called in Ireland.

“ 0h, he’s wild, Andy, and you‘d never be able to
ketch him," said Owny.

“Troth, an” I'll eng e I’ll ketch him if you‘ll let
me go. I never seen t 6 horse I couldn't ketch, sir,”
laid Andy.

“ Why, you little spridhogue if he took to ' ‘
over the long bottom it ’ud he more than a day’s
work for you to foil him."

“ Oh, but he won’ run.“

“ Why won‘t he run?"

“ Bekase I won‘t make him

“ How can you help it?"

“ I‘ll soother him.’

“ Well, you're a willin’ brat, anyhow; and sage on,
and God s eed you i" said Owny.

f‘Just 2} me a wisp o‘ hay an‘ a’ han’ful iv oats,"
and Andy, “if I should have to coax him."

“ Sartinly,“ ‘d Owny, who entered the stable and
came forth with the articles required by Andy, and a
halter for the horse also.

“ Now take care " said Owny, “
to ride that horse if you et on him.

“ 0h, never fear, sir. fcan ride owld Lanty Gub-
bins’ mule betther nor any 0' the b0 s on the com-
men, and he couldn’t throw me th‘ at er day, though
he‘ericéléed 1tll‘ietshoes av hixiin.”

. er a you may do anything " said Own '
and indeed it wastrue; for Lant ’s miile which fgd’
on the common, be . ridden slyi’y by all the young
vagabonds in the neig borth hadbecome such an
ade t in the art or to rid of his troublesome
cus omers that it 1mg t we be considered a feat to
stick on him. .

“ Now, take great care of him, Andy, my boy, said
the farmer. . i .

“ Don’t be afeared, sxr,’ said And , who started on
his errand in that peculiar pacew ch is elegantly
called a “ sweep’s trot;" and as the river lay be.
tween Owny Doyle‘s and the bottom and was too
deep for Andy to ford at that season, he went round
by Dinny Dowling’s mill, where 8. small wooden
bridge crossed the stream.

.Here he thought he might as well secure the as-
sistance of Paudeen, the miller’s son, to help him
in catching the horse; so he looked about the place
until he found him, and telling him the errand on
which he was going, said, “ If you like to come w1d
me we can both have a ride." This was tem tation
mtiicient for Paudeen, and the boys ,9 ed to-
gether to the bottom, and they were not long in se-
» -' the hers"  “""" “mi wt the halter

run.”

"at you are able

 

 

over his head, “Now,” said And , “ give me a lift on
him;" and accordingly. b1); audeen‘s catching
Andy’slett foot in hot his ands clas ed together
in the fashion of a stirrup, he hOisted is friend on
the horse’s back; and as scones he was secure there,
Master Paudeen. by the aid of Andy’s hand, contriv
ed to scramble 11 after him; 11an which Andy ap
lied his heel to t e horse's side With many vigorous
'cks. and “hugupl‘: at the page timehen-
deavored to imulate wny s steed in some '
o! a e as he turned his head toward the mill. mg

“ ure am‘t you going to crass the river?“ said
Paggeenl" i to l” e on at home "

‘ 0' m 0 av .

“ 0h: I‘d réhgrg go up to WDY’S. and it‘s the short-

y acrass the river":

I: 1383, alint I doggike.

t eared -Y

“Not I, indeed!” said Andy, though it was really
the fact, for the width of the stream startled him,
“ but Owny told me to_ take grate care 0’ the haste,
and I’m loath to Wet his feet. '

“ Go ’long wid on. you fool! what harm would it
do him? Sure he s neither sugar nor salt that he‘d
melt."

“ Well, I won‘t, anyhow," said And , who by this
time had got the horse into a good high trot, that
shook eve word of argument out o Paudeen’s
body; besi es, it was as much as the boys could do
to keep their seats on Gun "s Buce ihalus who was
not long in reaching 6“ aliens bri e. I-lere voice

  “i

 

 

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I
.‘liillmiiii'. 5
» till!

 

and halter were employed to pull him in, that he
might cross the narrow wooden structure at a quiet
pace. But whether his double load had given him the
idea of double exertion, or that the pair of legs on each
side stickl into his flasks (and perhaps the horse

was ticklish made him go thr- faster, we know not;
but the horse charged the bridge as if an Enniskill-
iner were on his back, and an enemy before him;
and in two minutes his hoofs clatteer like thunder
on the bridge, that did not bend beneath him. No
it did not bend but it broke: proving the falsehood
of the beast, “i may break, but I won't bend;" for,
after all, the really strong may bend, and be as strong
as ever: it is the unsound that has only the seeming
of strength, which breaks at last when it resists too

long .

Su rising was the spin the young equestrians took
over t e ears of the horse, enou h tomakc all the ar-
tists of Astley’s envious; and p ump they went into
the river, where each formed his own ring, and exe-
cuted some comical “scenes in the circle,” which
were suddenlfiphanged to evolutions on the “ flying
cord " that "my Dowling threw to the per-
formers, which became suddenly converted into a
“ tight rope," as be dragged the 'voltige'urs out of the
water; and for fear their blood mig t be chilled by
the accident, he ave them an enormous thrashing
with a (1 end 0 the rope, ust to restore circu-
lation; an his exertions ha the been witnessed,
would have charmad the llnmane Si’ociety.

As for the horse, hi» legs stuck through the brides.

 

I

2

 

as though he had been put in a thir last, and he went
playing; away on the water with consi erablc execution.

as if he were ucrompanying himself in the son which
ncwasi squealing ut the top of his voice. alf the
saws-t, had-hots, ropes, and poles in the parish were put

in rcouisltion immediately, and the horse’s first lesson
in (Jim 01/!{l.~‘/i(3 cxvruisc was performed with no other
was than some skin and a good deal of hair. Of course
Andy did not vent urn on taking, Owny’s horse home; so
".lll? miller sent him to his owner, with an account of
th accident. Andy for years kept out of Owny n8.
Ooppal‘s way; and at any time that his presence was
troublesome the inconvenienced party had only to say
" Isn‘t that évrny na Coppal coming this Way?" and
Alriy tied for his life.

When Andy grew up to be what in country parlance
is called “ a brave. lump of a boy," his mother thought
he was old though to do something for himself; so she

' tool; him one day along with her to the s uire’s, and
waited outside the door, loitering u ) an down the
yard behind the house, among a crow of beggars and
groutluzy dogs, that were thrusting their heads into
m-ry iron pot that stood outside the kitchen door,
until chance might give her “ asight o’ the squire afore
he wint out, or al’ore he wiut in;” and after spending
her entire day in this idle way, at last the squire made
his appenrunce, and Judy resented her son, whokept
scraping his foot, and pu ing his forelock_, that stuck
out like a piece of ragged thatch from historehead,
making hi3: obeisance to the squire, while his mother
mu; soinidinn his: praises for being the “handlest cra -
{bur alive—and so willin’-nothing comes wrong
lint.“

“l suppose the highsh of all this is, you want me to
take him?” :aaid the squire. _

“Tl-0th, an’ your honor, that’s Just it—if your honor
would be blazed."

“ What can he do?"

“ Anything, your honor.”

“That means mil/12111], I sup

" h, no, sir. Everything,
desire him to do."

To every one of these assurances on his mother’s part
Andy made a bow and to scrape.

“ Can he take care of horses?”

“The best of care, sir,” said the mother, while the
miller, who was standing behind the squire, waiting for
ordcrs, mudca grimacc at Andy, who was ob ' ed to
cram his face into his hat to hide the laugh, which he
could hardly smother, from being heard, as well as seen.

“ Let him come, then, and help in the stables, and
we’ll see what we can do."

“May the Lord—”

“ That’il (lo—there, now, go.”

“ Oh sure, but I’ll pray for you, and—”

“Will you go?”

“And may the angels make your honor’s bed this
blessed night, I pray. '

“ If you don’t go your son shan’t come.”

so,“ said the squire.
mane, that you would

Judy and her hopeful boy turned to the right-about, I

double-quick time, and hurried down the avenue.

The next day Andy was duly installed into his office
of stable-helper, and, as he was a good rider, he was
.~.oon made whippcr-in to the hounds, for_there was a.
want of surll a functionally m the establishment, and
Andy’s boldness in this capacity soon made him _a .
write with the squire, who was one of those rollicking
boys on the pattern of the old school, who scorned the
attentions of a regular valet, and let any one that
chance threw in his way bring him his boots, his hot
water for shaving, or his coat, whenever it was
brushed One morning Andy, who was very often the
attendant on such occasions, came to his room with hot
water. He tapped at the door.

“ Who’s that?" said the squire who had 'ust risen,
and did not know but it might be one of t ewomen
servants.

“It’s me, sir."

“ Oh—Andyl Come in.”

“Here’s the hot water, sir," said Andy, bearing an
enormous tin can.

“wn ,what the d—l h ‘ that enormous tin can
hero? on might as well b the stable bucket.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Andy, retreating. In
two minutes more And came back, and, gas?) in at‘
the door, put in his lies cautiously. and , “ e
maids in the kitchen, your honor, says there’s not so
much hot water ready. ’

“ DidI not see it a moment since in our hand?"

“ Yes, sir; but that's not nigh the o' the stable-
bucket."

“Go along, you stupid thief, and get me some hot
water directly I”

“ Will the can do, sir?"

“ Ay, anything, so you make haste."

011' posted Andy, and back he came with the can.

" Where’ll 1 put it, 311‘?"

" Throw this out," said the squire,handlng Andy a.
jug containing some cold water, meaning the jug to be
replenished with the hot.

Andy took the jug, and the window of the room being
open, he very deliberately threw the jug out. The
squire stared with wander, and at last said—

“ What did you do that tor?" . . ,

" Sure you mwlu' 1m: to throw it out, sir]. 7

“Go out of this you thick-headed Villain!" send the
squire, throwing IS boats at Andy’s head, along With
some very neat. curses. Andy retreated, and thought
himself a very ill-used persou._ “ ‘ .

Though Andy‘s regular busxness was whi per in,”
yet he was liable to he called on for the Pe ormance
of various other duties: he sometimes .attended ta-

, bio when the number of guests required that allthe
subs should be put in rcquisnion, or rode on some dis
tunt errand for the " nn’stress,” or drove out the nurse
and children on the jaunting-car; and many were the
mistakes, delays, or accidents arismg fiom Handy
Andy’s interference in such matters; but as they were
seldom serious and generally laughable, they never cost
him the loss of his place, or the squlre’s favor. Who
rather enjoyed Andy‘s blunders.

The firsjv time Andy was admitted into the mysteries
of the dining-room t. was his wonder. The butler
took him in to .give ‘ some previous instructions, and
Andy was so lost in admiration at the sight 0f the 93'
sembled glass and plate that he stood with his mouth
and eyes Wide 0 en, and scarcely heard a Word that was
smdtohim. rtheheadmanhadbeen ' ‘ his
instructions into him for some time he said he might go
until his attendancewas required. But And moved
not; he stood with his eyes flx bye. sort 0 fascina-
tion, on some ohaect that seem to rivet them with the
same unaccountable .mlluence which the rattlesnake
exercises over its victim.

“‘ What are you lookinsr at 9" said the butler.

 

The New Yoi‘k, Liberia

 

“Them things, sir," said Andy, pointing to some sil-
ver forks.

“Is it the forks?“ said the butler.

“ Oh, no, sir! I know what forks is very well; but I
never seen them things afore."

“What things do you mean 1’”

“These things, sir,” said Andy, taking up one of the
silver forks, and turning it round and round in his hand
in utter astonishment, while the butler nned at his
ignorance, and enjoyed his own superior owledgg

“ Well," said Andy, after a long pause “ the defll be
gromime if ever I seen a. silver spoon split that way be-

ore ’

The butler gave a horse lau h, and made a standing
joke of Andy’s split spoon; gut time and experience
made Andy ess m ressed with wonder at the show of
plate and lass, an the split spoons became familiar
as “ house old words ” to him; yet still there were
things in the duties of table attendance beyond Andy’s
com rehension—he used to hand cold lates for fish,
and 0t plates for jelly, etc. But “one ay," as Zanga
says—“ one day " he was thrown off his center in a re-
markable degree by a bottle of soda-water. ,

It was when that combustible was first introduced in-
to Ireland as a dinner beverage that the occurrence
took place. and Andy had the luck to be the person to
whom a gentleman applied for some soda-water.

“ Sir?” said Andy.

" Soda-water,” said the guest, in that subdued tone
in wthigli people are apt to name their wants at the din-
ner- a e.

.Andy went to the butler. “Mr. Morgan, there’s a
gmtleman—

“ Let me alone, will you i“ said Mr. Morgan.

Andy maneuvered round him a little longer, and
again essaycd to be heard.

“ Mr. Morgan!”

“ Don‘t you see I’m as busy as I can be? Can’t you
do it yourself l”

“I dunno. what he wants.”

“Well, go and ex him,” said Mr. Morgan. .

Andy went on? as he was hidden, and came behind the
thirsty gentleman’s chair, with, " I beg Your Pardon.
Sll‘.

“ Well!“ said the gentleman.

f “yLbeg your pardon, air; but what’s this you axed me
or '

“ Soda-water.”

“ What, sir?"

“ Soda-water: but perhaps you have not aw.”

“ Qh there’s plenty in the house, sir! ould you

like it hot, sir P”
_ The gentleman laughed, and supposing the new fash-
ion was not understood in the present company, said,
‘flNever mind." . ,

But Andy was too anxious to please to be so satisfied,

I

and nine HedtoMr.Moran.
. “signalii’im ‘

, .

“ Bad luck to youl—can’t you let me alone?"

‘f There’s a gentleman wants some soap and wather. ”

“Some wha '2"

“ 80:8 and wather, sir."

“ Dl sweep you l—soda wather you mane. You’ll
get it under the side-board."

‘ “Is it in the can sir?"

“ The curse o’ Crum’ll on you! in the bottles.”

“ Is this it, sir?” said Andy, producing a bottle of ale.

“ N 0, bad cess to you l—the little bottles.”

“ Is it the little bottles with no bottoms, sir?”

“I wish you wor in the bottom 0’ the sayl” said Mr.
Morgan, who was fuming and pulling and rubbing
down his face with a napkin, as he was hurrying to all
quarters of the room, or, as Andy said, in prai ng his
activity, that he was ‘ like bad luck—everywhere."

“ There they are ” said Mr. Morgan at last;

“ 0h, them bottles that won‘t stand," said Andy;
“sure them’s what I said, with no bottoms to them.
How‘ll 1 open it l—lt's tied down." ,

“ Cut the cord, you fool!”
Andy did as he was desired, and he hap ed at the
time to hold the bottle of 5 water on a. evel with the

candles that shed light 0v 1‘ the festive board from a.
silver branch and the moment he made the in-

c on, bang went the bottle of soda, knocking out two
of the lights with the rojected cork, which performing
its parabola the lengt of the room, struck the squire
himself in the eye at the foot of the table: while the
hostess at the head had a cold bath down hex-back.
Andy, when he saw the soda-water um mg out of the
bottle, held it from him at arm’s 6 every fizz it
e, exclaiming, “ owl—owl—owl" An at last when

the bottle was empty, he roared out, “Oh, Lord l—lt’s

us

Great was the commotion; few could resist laughter
except the ladies, who all looked at their gowns, not
' the mixture of satin and sodarweter. The ex.

ed candles were relighted—the sqmre got us
eye open again—and the next time be perceived the
butler sufllclently near .to speak to he said in a.
low and hurried tone of deep 1 W 3 he knit his
brow, “Send that fellow out of e room! but, mum“
the same instant, resumed his former smile ' that
beamed on all yoga as-lf nothing had happen .

Andy was expell 'the mile a mangerln disgrace, and
for days kept out of the master’s and misrtess’ way: in
the meantime the butler madea ood story of the thing
in the servants’ hall; an when he held up And ’s lg-
norance to ridicule, by te ' g how he asked for ‘309,
and water," Andy was 'ven the name 01 " Suds."

“'38 called by no other gr months after.

Bufithough Andy’s functions in the interior were sus-
Pfindedq 1118 services in oumfdmr affairs were 000»
Slonwy put in requisition. But here his evil, enlus
Still haunted him, and he put his footin a. piece 0 busi-
11985 1118 master sent him u n one (1337- Wthh as so
simple as to defy almost 6 chance of Andy making
ally mistake about it; but Andy was very ingenious in

own particular lme.
“Ride into the town and see if there‘s a letter for
1115,; nightlife squire one day to our hero , I

You know where to 80?”

“To the town, sir.” I:
: But do you know where to 80 m the town,

‘ No sir. '

u ’ stu thief?"

"muss a“... W“ P”

“Didn’tl often tell you so ask what you're to do,
wheyn you agop’t know?

“ wh don’t on?

“I don’t gke to lag throublesome, sir."

“ Confoundyoul” said the squire; tho hheoould not
help laughing at Andy‘s excuse for in ignor-

1

 

 

 

“Well,” continued he, “go to the post ofllce. You
know the post-office I supfiose ?"

“ Yes, sir, where they so gunpowder,”

“You’re right for once," said the s uire; for his ma»
jesty’s ostmaster was the rson w 0 had the privil-
age of call in the aforesaid combustible. “Go then
to the post-o co, and ask for a. letter for me. Remem
her—not gunpowder, but a letter."

“Yis, sir,” said Andy, who 0t astridc of his hack,
and trotted away to the post~o ce. On arriving at the
sho of the postmaster (tor that person carried on a
brls trade in groceries, mlets, broadcloth, and linen-
drngmryg Andy rcsente hpnself at the counter, and
sai “ want a etther, sir, If you plaze."

“Who do you want it for?" said the postmaster, in :1
tone which Andy considered an ag ression upon tln
sacredness of private life: so Andy t ought the coolest
contempt he could throw upon the prying im pertinencl
of the postmaster was to repeat his question.

“1 want a letther, sir, if you plaze. ‘

“And who do you want it for?” repeated the post
master.

“ t’s that to on i” said Andy, ' .

The postmaster, laughing at his supphctty, told him
he could not tell what otter to give him unless he tolo
him the direction.

“ The directions I got was to get a letther here—that‘i
tbs directions."

“Who gave you those directions."

The masther.”

“And who‘s your master?”

“What concern is that 0’ outs?"

“Wh you stupid rascal if you don’t tell me his
name, ow can I give an a letter?" ’

“You could give it you liked: but you‘re fond of
axin’ impident questions, bekase you think I’m simple.’i

“Go along out 0’ this! Your master must be at
great a goose as yourself, to send such a messenger."

“ Bad luck to your impidence,” said Andy; “ is it
Squire Egan you dare to say goose to?"

‘ 0h, Squire Egan‘s your master, then?"

“ Yes, have you anything to say ag’in’ it?"

“Only that never saw you before.” _ .

“Faith, then you’ll never see me ag’m if I have my
own consint,"

“ I won’t give you any letter for the squil'e, unlessd
know you’re his servant. Is there any one in the town
knows you?” , ~

“ Plenty," said Andy, “ it’s not every one is as iguo«
rant as you."

Just at this moment a person to whom Andy was
known entered the house, who vouched to the post-
master that he might give Andy the squire‘s letter
“ Have you one for me?’ . ~

“Yes, sir,“ said the postmaster. producing one——
“iroh an?” aid h 1 tag dlf

egen eman to 0 once as e,an er
the shop with his otter. urp p
“ Here’s a letter for the squire," said the postmaster;
pu’ve to pa me elevenpence postage."

What ’ud pgy elevenpence or?"

“ For'fiostage.

“To t a devil wld you! Didn’t I see you give 11:
Durfy a letther for fourpence this mlnit, and a. bigge‘i
letther than this? and now you want me to pay eleven

111%,6, for this scrap of a. thing. Do you think I’m a

00

“ NO‘ but I’m sure of it,” said the postmaster.

“ Well, you’re welkum to be sure, sure ;——but don't be
dela in‘ me now; here’s fourpence for you, and gl’ me
the etther."

“ Go alo , you stupid thief i” said the postmaster,
taking up t a letter, and going to serve a customer
with a. mouse-trap.

While this person and many others were served
Andy lounged up and down the shop, every now and
then putting in his head in the middle of the customers,
and saying, “ Will you " me the letther?"

He - waited for above all an hour, in defiance of the
anathema: of the postmaster, and at last left, when he
found it lm ossible to gift common Justice for his mas-
ter, which 0 thought 6 deserved as well as another
man; for, under this impression, Andy determined to
give no more than the fourpence.
millsiéi’iinmaifl". he“??? “33 gill“ “we”

_ , v en 11 m e a
asked if there was a. letter for him. ppwmce'
“There is, sir,” said Andy.
“Thengive it to me.”
“I haven’t it, sir.” '
“What do you mean?”
2: He wouldn’t give it to me, sir.”
iii‘iil‘iw‘iidnclgéfé’wl”; a. hug
ow a e an n etown-wan ‘ to
use his “3' “g; 1’ w...
ay 5 a on e etter. the devil didn’t on

pay what he asked, sir?” y

“ Arrah, sir, why would I let you be chated! It’s not

adoubleletther at all: not,above half the size 0' cm
. got before myface for foul-pence.”
“You’ provoke me to break your neck some day,
on vagabondl 'Ride back for your life, you omad‘
t«gau‘x'lunld pay whatever he asks, and get me the let-

r.

“ Why, sir, I tellyou he was sellin‘ them before my
face for fourpence apiece.“

“ Go back, you scoundrell or I’ll horsepr you; and
if you‘re longer than.“ hour, I’ll have you ducked in
the horsepond l"

9 Andy vanished, and made a. second visit to the post
office. When he amved, two other persons were get
ting letters and the potmaster was selecting the epls
ties for each, from a large parcel that lay before him
on the counter; at the same time many shop mmtomers
were waiting to be served.

- “ I’m come for that letther ” said Andy.

" I’ll attend to you by-and- y.”

f‘ The masther‘s in a hurry.’

‘2 Let him wait till his hurry's over.”

: He’ll murther me if I’m not back soon.”
“I‘mglad to hear it.”
While the

5‘

went on with such provoking
‘ answers to ese a. for dispatch Andy’s eye
ca. ht the heap of l which on e counter: so
w certain‘weig of soapan tobacco was going
forward, he contrived to become
tars from the hang and, having effected that, waited
patiently eno 1: ll it was the great man‘s pleasure to
give him the ve to his master.

Then did Andy besln‘idehlsback,nndlntrlumph at
his trick on the r, rattled along the road
homewardasfastas the beast could carry him. He
came into the squire}: presence, his face bemhg um.
delight, and an air of self-satisfied superior-iv m m.
muggy, gum unaccountable to his master. mm 1.

I

 

Vol. 1. I

 

 

1

y .-

1.

"4‘4

,rfiwr».

 

.. mp1:

 

 

Y

A

.m- ..~< ~

 

. 1.4-!»

No. 9.
pulled l'orili his hand. wiiii h had been grllbbiiigx u ) his
prizes from the bottom nl' his )llUKOt; and holding hru.»
li-tters over his head, \vllill‘ lie s: id. “Look at that!"
ho lll‘XL slapped them ilqul under his broad flat on the
table before the squire. saying:

“Weill ii‘hc did make me pity elevenponcc. by gor,
i brought your honor the. worth 0‘ your money, any-
howl"

 

CHAl’l‘lilll ll. ‘

ANDY walked out of the room with an iur of supreme
triumph, having laid the letters on the table. and left
.iio squire staring after him in perfect amazement:

" Well, by the pow "' that's lllelllilSlr extraordinary

     

'oiiiiis l i-Vier Cillllv' a. H ” was the soliloquy the mus-
.ur uttered us the. servant closed the door ai'tcr him;
hid the squire broke tho seal of the letter that Andy’s
llundering had so long: delayed. It was from his law-
.Lgent on the subject of an expected election in the
county, which would occur in case of the demise of the
then sitting member; it ran thus:

“DUBLIN, THURSDAY.

“MY DEAR SQUIllE—I am making all ossiblo exertions
To have every and the earliest inforinut on on the subject
of the election. I say the ell-etlou.—becauso, tho h the
seat of the county is not yet vacant. it is linpossil) o. out
that it must soon be so. Any other man than the present
number must have (lied long ugo' but Sir Timothy Trim-
mer has been so undecided all h 5 life that he cannot at
present make n his mind to die; and it is only by Death
himself giving fine casting Vote that the qucsizlon can be
decided. The writ for the vacant county is expected to
arrive by every mail, and in the meantime I am on the
alert for information. You know we are sure of the bar-
on of Bullysloughguttlicrv. and the boys of Killanmnul
will murder an ' one. tliut daros to give A vote against you.
We are sure 0 Knockdouuhty also and the very pigs in
Glanuinuck would return you; but I must put you on your
guard on one point where you least expect to be betrayed.
You told me you were sure of Neck-0r~nothing Hull; but I
can tell you you're out there; for the master of the afore-
said is working henvcn, earth, ocean, and all the little
.lshes. in the other interest; for he is so over head and ours
in debt. that he is looking out for a pension. and hopes to
Pet one by giving his interest to the Honorable Sackville
\ attarbrnln, who sits for the BUN)th of Old Gooseberry
at present, but whose friends think h s talents are worthy
of a county. If Sack wins. Neck-or-uothing at: a euslon
—that's poz. I had it from the best authori y. I odge at
.1 mllllncr's herez—no matter- more when I see you. But
don't be afraid; we’ll bug back, and distance Nook-or-
uothing. But, seriously speaking. it's too ood a joke that
O‘Grady should usc'you in this In nner. w 0 have been so
kind to him in money matters; ut as the old son says.
'Povei-ty parts ood conipany;’ and he 13 so curse poor
that he can’t a 0rd to know you any longer, now that you
have lent him all the money you had, and the ionsion in
prospectu is too much for his feelings. I ll be own with
vou aln as soon as I can. for I hate the diabolical town
113 Iago poison. They have altered Stephen’s Green—-
ruined it I should say. They have taken away the big
ditch that was round it. where I used to hunt wnlcrrats
when a boy. They are destroying the lace with their
:l—d improvements. All the dolls are we , I ho c. and m
favorite bitch. Remember me'to Mrs. Egan, w iom all -
mire. .
“ My dear squire, yours per quire,

“ MURTOUGH MURPHY.

“ To Edward Egan. Esq., Merryvnle.”

Murtougli Murphy was a great character, as may be
guessed from his letter. He was a country attorney of

mod practice; good, because he could not help it—for -

lie was a clever, ready-witted fellow, up to all sorts of
traps. and one in whose hands a cause was very safe;
therefore he had plent of clients without his seeking
them. For if Murtoug '3 practice had depended on
his looking for it, he might have made broth of his
own parchment: for though to all intents and. ur-
poses a good attorney, he was so full of fun and. 0nd
of amusement, that it was only by dint of the busmess
being thrust upon him he was so extenswe a prac-
:itloner. He loved a-good bottle, agood hunt agood
joke. and a 0d song, as well as an fellow in relnnd;
and oven wggn he was obliged ill t 9 way of busmess
to press a gentleman hard—to hunt‘bis man to death-
he did it so good-humorcdly that his very victim could
not be angry with him. As for those he served. he
was their prime favorite: there wasnotlnng they could
want to be done in the parchment hne, that Murtough
would not find out some we. of doing: and he was so
pleasant a fellow, that be red in the hospitality of
:ill the best tables in the count . He kept good horses,
was on every race-ground wi bin twenty miles, and a
steeple-chase was no steeple-chase Without him. Then
he batted freely. and, What's more. Wonhip bets very
generally; but no one found fault with him for that
and he took your money with such agood race, and
mostly gave you a ban mat in exchange for i so that,

next to winmng the money yourself, you were‘glad it

was won Murtou h-Murphy. .

The s 113.9 read letter two or three times. and
made his comments as he roceeded. “ ‘YVork
heaven and earthto ’-hal-—sot- at‘s the workO Grad s
lit—that's old fflendshlp,——foull——foull and after all i; e
money I lent him, tom—he’d better take claret-I’ll be
down on him if he Plays false ;—not. that I_ d hke that
much either ;-—but— et‘s see who‘s this comu down to
0 se mc?—-Sack Scatterbrain—tho biggest 001 from
L to himself ;—the fellow can‘t ride a. bit,—-a pretty
member for a sporting county! ‘ I lodge at u milhner s
—divil doubt on Murtouoh; I’ll engage you do. Bad
luck to him 1— e’d rather be fooling away his time in a
back parlor. behind a. bonnet shop. than minding the
interests of the count . - ‘Pension hhal—wants it‘sure
enough—take care. ’Grizdily, or, by the powers, I ll be
at you. You may balk the bailifls, and defy
other man to serve on with a. writ; but by jl 0! it
take the matter in hand I'll be bound i‘ll get i: done.
‘Stephen’s Green—big ditch—where 1 used to hunt
water-rats) Divil sweep ou, Murphy, youvd rather be
hunt” water-rats any ay than minding your busi-
nessmfi ’s a clever fellow fox-all that. ‘ Favorite bitch,
Mrs. Egan.’ A i there’s the end of it—wlthhlsibit o
po’tbry, tool he divd!” ‘

The s uire threw down the letter, and. then his eye
ca ht the other two that Andy had rloined.

“ ore of that stupid blackqu 8 worm—robbing
the mail—noiessi—that fellow will be hanged some
time or other. Egad, maybe they ll him for thisi
What’s best to be done? Maybe it  
way to seedwhom thegt argifiogé;§%t89nd_thfi}s It.” 6
parti an re uestt e v

Thgs’ squire hqere tookyup the'letters t at lay bethfi-g
him. to read their superscriphons; and the 
turned over was directed to Gustavus Granby 0 , Y.
Esq. Neck-or-no Hall. Knockbotherum. Tins was
“be...” ‘5 W i scram“sightings:

readin a a. ut :- ’s in
here wgs a letter to that individual, and-with the
Dub ' post-Mk too, and a very zmnd

 

7777 .1 Handy Andy. M

The squim examined the arms and, thou h not versed
‘ in the mysteries of heraldry, lie though he remem-
bered enough of most of the arms he had seen to say
‘ that this armorial bearing was a strange one to him.
He turned the letter over and over again and looked
' at it back and front, with an expression in his face that
said, as plain as countenance could s oak. “I‘d 'vo
l a trifle to know what is inside of this.‘ He lookc at
l the seal again: " Here‘s a—goose I think it is. sitting on
’. a bowl with cross-bars on it, and a spoon in its mouth:
 like the follow that owns it, may be. A goose with a
1 silver spoon in its mouth—well here‘s the gable-end of
‘ a house, and ii bird sittin ’ on the to of it. Could it he
, Sparrow? There is a. fol ow called grian an under-
secretary at the Castle. D—n it! I wish I knew what
i it’s about." -

- The squire threw down the letter as he said, “ D—n
’ it i” but took it up again in a few seconds and catching
‘ it ed ewise licthen his forefinger and thumb, ave a
i gent e pressure that made the letter gape at ts ex-

tremities, and than, exercising that s delon glance
l‘ which is peculiar to postmasters, waiting-ms. ds, and

magpies who inspect marrowbones, pooped into the
I interior of the epistle, saying to himself as he did so,
i “ Ali's fair in war, and why not in electioneering?” His
1 face, which was screwed up to the scrutinizing pucker,
l gmdually lengthened as he caught some words that

l were on the last turnover of the sheet, and so could be -
 read thorough] , and his brow darkened into the deep

est frown as 19 scanned these lines: “As you very
properly and pungently remark, poor Egan is a. spoon
—a more spoon.‘ “Am I a. spoon you rascal?” said
the squire, tearing the letter into (pieces and throwing
it into the fire. “And so, Mlatlwr end
a. spoonl" and the blood of the E. ans rose as the head
of that‘pii nacious family at a up and down the
room: ‘ '
l hash! maybe ‘m a sgioon ou'llsup sorrow with yeti"

Here he took u t 9 pa er, and made avery angry
lunge at the fire at did not want stir and there
1 he beheld the letter blazingmerrlly ‘aWa . e dro ped
,thc pokeras if hehml can ht l byt a hot on , as
; he exclaimed “What the —-1 shall I do? ‘I've burnt
l the letter!" This threw the s ulre into 9. fit of what he

was wont to his “consl ering cap;’l and he sat
with his feet on the fender for some minutes, occasion-
allyhmutteri to himself what he had begun with,—
i “ at the --1 shall I do? It’s all 0 to that m-
femal Andy—I’ll murder that fellow some time or other.
i If he hadn t brou ht it—I shouldn‘t have seen it, to be
sure, if I hadn’t ooked' but the temptation—a saint
i couldn’t have withstood t. Confound ltl what a stu id
, trick to burn itl Another here too—must burn t at
as well, and say nothing about either of them;” and he
took up the second letter, and merely looking at the
address, threw it into the fire. He then rung he bell,
and desired And to be sent to him. As soon as that
ingenious indivil ual made his appearance, the s uire
desired him, with peculiar emphasis, to shut the cor,
and then 0 nedu n himwi b:

“You 11 ortunu e rascall”

“ Yis. your honor.”

“Do(you know that you might be haugedfor what
you dl to-da. i” r r ,
“Whath do, sir?" ‘

“ You robbed the post-0mm."

“ HowdldIrob it sir?” ' ' ‘ »

“ You took two letters that you bad no right to."
“It’s no robbery for a man to get the worth of his

mone ” »
stupid villainl I‘m

“win you hold your tongue.
not joking; you absolutely mlg t be hanged for rob-
b' the ost-oi‘flce."

“ ure- didn't know there war on harmln whatI
done; and for that matter sure, if t a ’re sitch won-
derful value. can’t I lgo back again wid em?”

“No, you thief! hope you’ve not said sword to
on one about it." '
‘ Not the sign of a word passed my lips about it."

” You‘re sure?" .

“Sariinl” ~

“Take care, then. that {Ion never 0 11 your mouth
"to mortal about it, or you .be , as sure as your
muneisAnd Rooney." » i

“Oh! at t rate I never will. But maybe your
honor thinks I ought to be hanged?"
th“No;bbecia.xtlilseI ou dilignot intemli tomdioh: wrong

' - ntoy vep Onyou'rco 11 you
to??? 'rrgiv'for what, you have done.“ v 3

“ a you, . ‘ 1‘

“I‘veburnt the letters. so no one-can know an
about the business unless you tell‘on yourselflzysoifg
member—not a word." . - ‘ , -

“Faith, I‘ll be dumb asthe dumb haste.” ,

“Go now; and :once for all. remember you‘ll be
hanged so sure as you ever mention one word about
‘hlsn‘lfla‘flli ho "a. i and lettth. ' l

m e a w an a sen e uqu re,
who hyoped the secret was scrape a then took a in
hating walk round the pleasure maids. revel
Erna of retaliation upon his false friend O'Grady, an

'ving determined to put the most-severe and sudden
measure of the law in area ainst him for the money
in which he was indebted to , hei an‘iK ' awaited the
arrival of Murtough M hyfrom Dub :1 waxwute
1m vengeance. Havingse led thian his own mind, he
became more contented, and said, with a sell-satisfied
110d of the head, “ We’ll‘see who’s the spoon.”

‘ In a few days Mnrtough Murphy returned from Dub-
lin, and to Men'yvale he immediately proceeded. ‘ The
squire o a 1;]: him directly his mtgngténafif con:
men. one wproceedlngsasdnm r y,an
aske‘duwfimt most aummm-yrmeuures couldbeput in
practice against him. . , ~ . .

“Ohl various, various, my dear sqmre," said-Mur-
EEE: “but‘l don’tsee any-great use in doing go “5.1.3

not openly avowed himself." .
“Biggdoes be not intend to coalesce Vwith the other

I “ believe so—that if he’s to get the pension." .

“Well, and that’s “mgood as done, you know; for}!
they want him, the pension is easily managed."

“Iamn tsosureofthat." '

“ Why, t ey’re as plenty as blackberries.”

“V true; but you see, Lord Gobblestown swal-
lows t the pensionshfwfii family;
agree. many com 9 mar et against mm
for plucwmtpbm -buah very bare Mead;
and unless k Scatterbrain has W,
the sensicm mg not be such an easy thing." ,

m“ am, still ‘Grady has shown; hlmseltrnot my
on .’ ._ ,j ,7 »- .
“Myde squire. don’tbe so hot; he hflinmm
himse yet." . 

“ Well, but he means it."

 

y, you say I’m‘

s can you, my buckl—I‘ll' settle your '

 

3 .

“My dear squire, you oughfn’t to jinn at n. conclu—

slotn as you would at n twelve-foot drn n or alive-bur
a e.“ '

“Well, he‘s a black hard 1"

‘ “No denying it; am therefore keep him on your side,

if on can, or in: il be ntroublunmuo cusloincr on the

ot er."

“ I’ll keep no terms with him; I‘ll ship at him direi-i-
ly. What can you do that‘s \Vll‘kl'llPSI—llltltllt, capias
~fee—i'aw tum, or whatever you ('illl it?" I

“Halloo, squirm, you‘re ovorruuning your game:
ma be 'izfter all, he won’t join the Svattorhraiuag
an ——

"I tell you it’s no mailer; he intruded doing it, and‘
that’s all the some. I’ll slap at him—I‘ll blister him.“

Mutton h Murphy wondered at this blind fury of the
s uire, w 10, being a good-humoer and good-natured
fe ow in general puzzled the attorney the more by his

resent manifest malignity against O’llriidy. But lie

ad not seen the turn-over ol‘ the letter: he had not
seen “spoon”—ilio rr-al and secret cause of the “war-
tovthe-knil’e " spirit which was kindled in the squire’s
breast.

“Of course, you can do what you please: but, it
you’ll take a fr'eud‘s ztilviue—”

“ I tell you I‘ll blister him."

“He certainly bier! you very frcel ."

“I’ll blister liiin. Ilell you, and i not smart. Lose no
time, Murphy. my llO ': let loose the do '8 or law on
him and harass him ii he'd wish the d— lad him."

" ust as you like, but—”

“I‘ll have it my own way. I tell you; so say no
more."

“I‘ll commence against him at once. then as on
wish it; but it’s no use, l'oryou know very well thn. it
will be impossible to serve him."

“Let me alone for thatl IU be bound I’ll find fellows
to get the inside of him." '

‘ Why, his house is barricaded like a. jail, and he has
dogs enough to halt all the bulls in the country."

‘ No matter: just send me the blister for him, and
I‘ll engage I’ll stick it on him.”

“Very well, squire; you shall have the blisterassoon
as it can be got read . I‘ll tell you when ylou may send
over to me for it, an your messenger slut have it hot
and warm for him. Good-bye, squire."

“good bye, Murphy l—losc no tune."
“ the twinkling of a. hedpost. Are you going to
Tom Durfy‘s steeple-chase?“

“ I‘m not sure.’

“I’ve a bet on it. Did you see the widow Flannagan
lately? You didn’t? They say Tom’s pushing it strong
there._ The Widow has money, you know, and Tom
does it all for the love 0’ God; lfor you know, squire.
there are two things God hates—u. coward and a poor
man. Now, Tom‘s no coward; and. that he may be sure
of the love 0’ God on the other score he‘s making up to
the widow; and as he’s a slashing fellow, she’s nothing
10th, and for fear of any one cutting him out. Tom
keeps as sharp a lookout after her as she does after
him. He’s fierce on it, and looks‘pistols at any one that.
attempts putting his comether on the widow, while she
looks ‘as soon as you plaza ’ as plain as an o tical
lecture can enlighten the cart of man: in short. ’ om‘a
all rani’s horns, and the widow all sheep’s eyes. Good
bye, squire." And Murtough put his spurs to his horse,
and centered down the avenue, whistling the last.
p0 ular tune.

dy was sent over to Munough Murphy's for the

process at the appointed time; and as he had to

' through the village, Mrs. Egiui desired him to call

at the apothecary’s lor some niedichie that was pre-
scribed for one of the children.

“What’ll I ax for, ma‘am?"

“I’d be so to‘ trust to you, Andy, for remember-
ing. Here's t o prescription; take care of it, and Mr.
Manrry Will give you something to bring back; and
mind. if it's 8. powder~”

“ Is it gunpowdher, ma’am 9",

“No—you stu iid—will you listen! I say, if it’s a.
powder, don’t is it get wet as you did the sugar the
other day."

“ No. ma‘am.”

“Andif it’s-a. bottle, don't break its: you did the
last."

“No, ma‘um."

"And make haste."

“ Yis, ma‘am;" and off went And . ‘

In going thrm h the village, he ¥orgot to leave the
prescription at t e apothecar s and ushed on for the
attorney’s; there he saw Klurtou Kl: Murphy, who
handed him the law process, incl in a cover, with a
not?i to the squllre. cl 1” 1y

“ ave you een (loin an 'thin' 3 ve ever 6
And f”said Murtough. g 3 Ty ' '

“ don’t know. sir. ‘ said Andy.

“ Did you shoot any one with soda-water since I saw
you instil".

Andy grinned. '
“ Did you kill any more dogs lately, A l”

“ Fifi-ix. you‘re too hard on me. sir; sure never killed
but one dog, and that was an accident-w

“An accidentl—curse 'our iinfudence, you thiefl
Do you think, if you kill one of he pack on purpose.
we Wouldn’t cut the very heart out 0‘ you with our
hunting whips?"

“Faith, I wouldn't doubt you, sir; but, sure, how

could I help that divil of a more ruiniin‘ away wid me.
and thramplin’ the dogs?"

“ Why didn’t you ho d licr, ou thief l’

“ Hould her. indeedi—yuu 'ust might as well expect
to stop flre among flux 11 that one."

“Well, be 03 with you now, Andy, and take care of
What I gave you for t i squire."

“01:, never fear, sir ” said Andy,-as he turned his
horse’s head homewal . He stopped at the upotho-
cary‘s in the lo execute his commission for the
“misting.” On to n; the son of Qalen that he wanted
some pl: ic “for one o’ the childre' up all the ‘ big
house, when distgednser of the healing art mu what

a he wan . ~ l -\

‘ Felt Idunm: what hysic." 
‘: siscihg‘rgzigtter w th the child?" ‘
- ‘ Ho’s , -
u so, indeed, or you wouldn’t be j t for
You’re always making some binder. You
game here gad‘don’t lmow what description of medi-

cine ism ‘
“Don’t I?” said Andy, with a great alr- ‘
Mum-you don’t, you omadha i" said the apathe-
Am .fumbledln his ockets and could not hold
otthepggg his mistrepss'lntrusted him with. 33m he
hadam them thoroqu of their contents upon

  

the counter of the shop: and then. taking the prescrlp

4

tion from the collection, he said: “
don‘t know the description of the ph s 0 I‘m to get.
Now, you see, you're out; for that‘s t e dueliition.” ‘
and he slapped tho, counter impressively with h hand, 1
as he threw down the recipe before the apothecary. 1

While the medicine was in the course of pre aration l
for Andy, he C!)llll!ll'nl:('il restoring to his 0 ets the '
various parcels ln- had taken from them in untl for .
the recipe. .‘Ju. it happened that he had laid t em‘

down close beside some articles that were compounded,
and sealed u for going out, on the apothecary‘s coun-
ter; and as t 10 law process which Andy had received
from Murtough Murpli chanced to resemble in form
another inclosurc that ay beside it, containing a blister
And , under the influence of his peculiar genius, po

the lister into his pocket instead of the pack e w ich
had been confided to him by the attorney ant having
obtained the necessary medicine from ‘Garry, rodei
home with great self-complacency that he had not for- v
gotten to do a single thing that had'been intrusted to
him. “ I’m all rig t this time," said Andy to himself.

Scarcer had he left the apothecary‘s when another
messenger alighted at its door, and asked “If Squire
O‘Grady‘s things was read .9“

“There they are,“ said t e innocent M‘Garry, int-
ing to the bottles, boxes, and blister, he had in e up
and set aside, little dreaming that the blister had been
exchanged for a law rocess; and ulre O‘Grady’s own I
messenger popped nto his pocke the legal instru-
ment that it was as much as any seven men‘s lives
ivcre worth to bring within gunshot of Neckor-nothing

Iall.

dome he went, and the sound of the old gate creak-
mg on its hinges, at the entrance of the avenue, awoke
the deep-mouthed dogs around the house, who rushed
infiiriate to the spot to devour the unholy intruder on
the peace and privacy of the pati'lcian Q’Grady; but
they recognized the old gray hack and his rider, and

uietl wa ged their tails and trotted back, and licked ,
t eir ips a the thou hts of the bailiff they had hoped I
to eat. The door of eck—or-notlilng Hall was carefully
unbarred and unchained, and the nurse-tender was I
handed the puree! from the apothecaii's, and re-as» ’
cended to the sick room with slip red t as quiet!
as she could; for the renowned ’Grady was, accori -
ing to her account, “as cross as two sticks;" and she
protested, furthermore, “ that her heart was gray with
11m."

Whenever O’Grady was in a bad humor, he had a
strange fashion of catching at some word that either he
himse f or those with whom he spoke, had uttered, and
after often repeating it, or rather mumbiin it over in
his mouth, as if he were chewing it, of! he s arted into
a cantor of ridiculous rhymes to the aforesaid word,
and sometimes one of these rhymes would su gest a
new idea, or some strange association which the
oddest effect possible; and to increase the absurilty,
the jingle was one through with as much solomnity as
if he were indu 'ng in a eep and interesting reverie;
so that it was di cult to listen without 1138111118, which
mi ht rove a serious matter when 0133' y was in one
of he antarums, as his wife used to cah them.

Mrs. O‘Grady was near the bed of the sick man as the
nurse/tender entered. _

“ Here‘s the things for your honor, now." said she, in
her most soothln tone. .

“ I wish the d— had you and them!" said O‘Grady.

“Gusty dear!" said his wife. (She might have said
stormy instead of gusty.)

“ Oh! they‘ll do you good
nurse-tender curtseying, and
opening a pill-box.

O'Grady made a face at the pill-box, and repeated
the word “ ills“ several times, with an expression of
extreme d st. “ Pills—pills—kills— ~wills—ay—make

our wills—make them—take them—shake them.
Vhen taken—to be well shaken—show me that bottle."

The nurse-tender handed avial, which O'Grady shook ,
violently.

“ Curse them all!“ said the squire.

 

your honor," said the
uncorklng bottles, and

“ A pretty thing

to have a entleinan‘s body made a perfect sink, for
these blac ard doctors and apothecaries to pour
their dirty rugs into—fat oh!-—( rugs—inugs—jugs i"

he shook the pvial again an looked thro h it.
a “Isn’t it nice and pink, dai-lin‘ ?" said i: e nurse-ten- .
er.

“ Pink!" said O’Grady, eying her askance, as if he .
could have eaten her. “Pink, you old bosom, 'nk“—
he uncorked the vial, and put it to his nose. ‘ Pink—
phew—l” and he repeated a rhyme to pink which would
not look well in print.

“Now, sir, dear, there‘s a little blister just to go on
your chest—if you plaze."

“ A what .2' "

“A warm plasther, dear.“

“A blister you said, youpld dim."

“Well, sure, it‘s something to relieve you."

The squire gave a deep Wl, and his wife put in the
usual a pool of “ Gusty, earl

“ Hold your tongue, Will you? How would you like it!
I wish you had it on your —-"

“ Deed-an-deed, dear." said the nurse-tender.

“ By the “tonal war, if you say another word, I‘ll
throw the jug at you i “

“ And there‘s a nice dhrop o' gruel I have on the tire
for you,“ said the nurse, pretending not to mind me
rising anger of the s uire, as she stirred the gruel with
one nd, while with be other she marked herself with
the sign of the cross, and said in a mumbhng manner,
“ God presarvc us! he‘s the most cantankerous Chris-
tian I ever keni across!“ . , ,

“ Show me that internal thing,“ said the squire.

“What thing, dear?" 1

“You know well enough, you old hagl—that black-t
guard blister! “ I

“ Here it is, dear. Now just open the burst 0‘ your 1
shirt and let me put it on you." ,

" ive it into my hand here, and let me see it.“

“ Sartinly, sir ;—but I think, if you‘d let me Just— "

“Give it to me, I tell you,” said then uire, in a tone so
fierce that the nurse aused in her unfdl ' of the pac - ;
st and handed it wit 1 fear and tremblingto the already 2
indignant O‘Grady. But it is only imagination can fig-
ure the outrageous fury of the squire when on open-
ing the envelOpe With his own hand, he be held the law
process before him. There, in the heart of his castle,
with his bars and bolts, and bulldogs and blunder-
husses aroun him, he was served—am utely served—
iind hggad no doubt the nurse~tender was bribed to be-
tray ' . i
' Aroar and a jumgup in bed, iii-st startled his wifoi
iiito terror and ut t e nurse on the defensive. 1

“ You info old strap!“ shouted he, as he clutched i
up a handful of bottles on the table near him and flung ,
than. at the nurse. who was near the fire at the time;

 

I
1 me ain; 1"ll blister on, my buck!" and

The New York" Library.

on tell me I ‘ and she whipped the pot of gruel from the grate, and I “Ba! ba! ba!“ shouted Tom, makingacrying facoat

converted it into a means of defense, against the vial-

pelting storm.
Mrs. O'Grady rolled herself u in the bed-curtains

while the nurse screeched “Murt er!" and at last, when

O‘Grady saw that bottles were of no avail, he scram- !

bled ou of bed, shouting “ Where‘s my blunderbuss?"
and the nurse-tender, wh le he endeavored to et it down
from the rack where it was suspended over t e mantel-
plece, bolted out of the door, and ran to the most re
mote corner of the house for shelter.

In the meantime, how fared it at Merryvale. Andy
returned with his parcel for the s uire, and his note
from Murtaii h Murphy, which ran hus:

“ MY DEAR inns—I send you the blister for O’Grady
as you insist on it; but I think you won‘t find it easy to

I serve him with lt.—Your obedient and obliged

“ Mun-roves nanny.

" 7b Edward Egan, Esq” Merry/tale."

The squire opened the cover, and when he saw a real
instead of a figurative blister, grew crimson with r e.
He could not B ak for some minutes, his in at on
was so excess ve. “So,” said he at last, “ . Mur-
tough Murphy you think to cut your jokes iwith me,de
you ! By all t at‘s sacred, I‘ll out such a Joke on you
with the biggest horsewhip I can find, that ou’ll re-
member lt. “Dear Squire, I send the bus -.’ Bad
luck toyour im idencel Wait t awhile ago—that’s
all. By this an hat, you'll get such a blistering from
me. that all the spermaceti in M‘Garry‘s shop won't
cure you.

 

CHAPTER III.

‘ inns EGAN was as good as his word. He icked out
the most suitable horsewhi for chastising t e fancied
impertinence of Murtmigh u by; and as he switched
it u and down with a werf arm, to try its weight
an pliancy, the whist ng of the instrument through
the air was music to his ears, and whispered of prom-
isedd‘roy in the flagellation of the joculai' attorney.

“ a 11 see who can make the sorest blister," said the

ulre.
sq“I’ll back whalebone a ainst Spanish flies any day.
Will you bet, Dick!“ said e to his brother-in-law, who
was a wild, helter-skelter sort of fellow better known
over the country as Dick the Divll than Dick Dawson.

“ I'll back your bet, Ned.“

“There‘s no fun in that, Dick, as there is nobody to
take it ugh“

“ May Murtough will. Ask him before you thrash
him; you'd better.’

“As for him," said the squire, “I‘ll be bound he‘ll
back my bet after he gets a taste 0‘ this;“ and the
horsewhi whistled as he s ke.

“1 thin he had better ta 0 care of his back than his
bet,“ said Dick, as he followed the squire to the hall
door, where his horse was in waiting for him, under the
care of the renowned An , who little dreamed of the
extensive harvest of in lot which was ripening in
futurlty, all from his sowing.

“ Don‘t kill him quite, Ned," said Dick. as the squire
mounted to his saddle.

“ Wh , if 1 went to horsewhip a gentleman, of course
I shoul on! shake my whip at him; but an attorney
is another air. And, as I’m sure he'll have an action
again’ me for assault, 1 think I may as wellfget the
worth of my money out of him, to say nothing 0 teach-
ing him better manners for the future than to pla off
his jokes on his employers." With these words 0 he
rode in search of the devoted Murtquglh, who was not
at home when the squire reached his ouse: but as he
was returning through the village, he es led him com-
mgdown the street 11 company with om Durfy and
the widow, who were laughing heartily at some joke
Hui-tough was telling them, which seemed to amuse
him as much as his hearers.

“ I'll make him laugh at the wrong side of his mou ,"
thought the squire alighting and giving his horse to
the care of one of the little ragged boys who were idling
in the street. He ap reached M y with
threatening aspect an confronting and his
so as to produce a halt, he said, as distinct!
would permit him to speak ‘ You little n flea
blackguard 'll teach you how you'll cut yap; hands

ng

on t e astonished urtough with the last word, he
began a very smart horsewhi ping of the attorney.
The widow screamed, Tom D
roared, with some interjectional curses. At last e
escaped from the ulre‘s grl , leavl‘ililg. the lapel of his
coat in his posses on; and om D interposed his
person between them when he saw an tention on the
part of the if llator to repeat his dose of horsewhip.

“ let me at air, or by—“

Party

“Fie, tie squire !—to horsepr agentleman like a j

cart-horse. "
“ A gentleman l—an attorney ou mean.

“Isay a gentleman, Squire an,‘ cried Murto h

fiercely, roused to gallantry by t a presence ofn y,

and smart under a sense of injuryI and Whalebone.

“ I‘m a gent eman, sir, and demand t e satisfaction of

a gentleman.
Din-f "

“ tween his era and thumb, you mean, for
there‘s not a handf of it," said the squire.

“ Well, sir," re lied Toni Durfy, “little or much, I‘ll
take charge of t. That’s ht, mycock,’ said he to
Murtough, who, notwithstand n his desire to assume
awarlike air, could not resin 9 natural impulse of
rubbing his back and shoulder which t! led w th pain,
while he exclalm “Satisfaction! sat action!"
Mug?”  deheul

r. urp ‘s on ."

“The same, sir." said Tom.
u 10‘1"?" k Dl k the Divili"

‘ su pose on now one 0 ~

,“ A vgry prgper person, sin-no better; I‘ll go to him

ed he to Durf
“ Whomy

The widow clun to Tom‘s arm, and icoking tenderly
Smiles-led, “ g Tom, Tom. take care of your pm-
one o!"

“ Bother!" said Tom. ,

1: Ah. Squire Egan, don’t be so bloodthirsty."
‘1 , Womanl' said the squire. ‘

“All. . Murphy, I‘m sure he squire I very sorry

for beating o
“ Divil a bligg'said the uire. '
“ There. m‘a‘am,” said urphy, “you see he 1! make

no apology.

,“ POI !" said Durfy, “apol for a horseth
ufi, in eed! Nothing but ban ling a horsewh
{w oh I wouldn't ask any gentleman to do.) or a sho ,

can settle the matter."
“0h, Tom! Tom! Tom!” said the widow.

a very .
as his rage .

m .
okes on ,

swore, and Murto h .

I put my honor into your hands, Mn ,_

uu-e, " you name yourself as ,
do you name 

Vol. I.

,. . -,..,_L.

 

her. “ Arrah, woman, don‘t be making a fool of your.

' self. Go in to the 'pothecary‘s, and get something un.

‘ der your nose to revive you: and let mi mind our own
business."

The wid0w with her eyes turned up, and an exdania-

j tion to Heaven, was retiring to M‘Garry’s shop, wring.

‘ lug her hands, when she was near! knocked down by
M Garry himself, who rushed from s own door, at “I”

v same moment that an awful smash of his shop-window
and the demolition of his blue and red bottles alamn-r!

; the ears of the bystanders, while their eyes were drav n

I from the late be ligerent artles to a chase which 100?:

; lace down the street of t eagothe roaring “ ltlur»

1 cat'lfollowed by Squire 0’ radycmh an enormous
cu e .

‘ OFGrady, behaving thatOM‘Garry and the nurse-tender
had combined to serve him with a writ, determined to
wreak double vengeance on the a thecary, as the

‘ nurse had escaped him; and, not thstand all his

} illness and the appeals of his Wife. he left his ed and

, rode to the village, to “ break every bone in M‘Ga ‘s

5 skin." When he entered the shop, the pharmacopo is!

‘l was much surprised. and said, with a congratulatory

, grin at the great man, “Dear me, Squire Grady, I'm

1 elighted to see you."

i “ re mu, you scoundrell" said the squire, making a

' blow of cudgel at him, which was fended of! by an

I “'01! pestle the apotheca fortimatelK had in his hand.

I The enraged 0‘ rady m e a rush be ind the counter,

} which the‘ apothecary nimbl jumped over, crying

Murder! as he made for t e door, followed by his
* firmer, who gave a back-handed slap at the window-
ttles en Want, and produced the crash which aston-
ished the Widow, who now oined her screams to the
gnaw! hue and cry; for an discriminate chase of all

j e ragamufflns in the town, with bar ours and
‘ :fimc childiien, followed the flight of ‘Garry and
e s u re.

ursu
f “What the d vil is all this about!“ said Tom Durfv
; laughing. “By the powers! I sup there‘s some-
I thing in the weather to produce 1 this fun—though
! it‘s earlyin the ear to begin thrashing, for the harvest
1 isn‘t in yet. ut, however, let us manage our little
, affair now that we’re left in e and uletness, for
i the b kguards are all overt e brid a ter the hunt.
, I’ll go to Dick the Divil immediate y, squire, and ar-
, ran time and lace."
1 “ here‘s not iig like saving time and trouble on
{these occasions," said the squire. “ Dick is at m
! house. I can arrange time and place with you thii
' minute, and he will be on the und with me.”
1, “Very well," said Tom; “w ere is it to be?"
‘ “Sup we say the cross-roads, halfway between
this an Merryvale!’ There’s very pretty ground there,
i and we shall be able to get our pistols and all that.
ready in the meantime between this and four o‘clock—
: and it will be pleasanter to have it all over before din-
. ner."
! {Termini ,5:unde To: Durfyixié‘we’ll be there
: a our. en -morn . u ;" and he an
i his man walked od.‘ 8 sq d
‘ The widow, in the meantime, had been left to the
care of the apothecag‘s boy, whose tender mercies
; were now for the fl time in his life, demanded to-
, wards a faint! lady; for the poor raw country lad,
: having to do
1' matters, had never before seen the capers cut by n
‘ lady who thinks it pro r, and delicate, and becoming,
, to displa her sensibi ty in a. swoon; and truly her
hobs an small screeches, and little stampings and
, kickl , amazed younglgallipot. Smellin salts were
; a pli ;— they were rat or weak, so the wi ow inhaled
. t e leasing odor with a si h, but did not recover. Sal
! vols he was next put nto requisitionz—this was

isomet stro r, and made her w 1e on her
chair, an throw or head about with sun “0113!”
and “Aha!” The ho to be rmed at

v, beginning
the extent of the widow’s syncope, bethought him-
self of assafoetidn; and, down a ly
bottle of that sweetsme st mulant, ave the
, widow the benefit of the who e jar under er nose.
Scarce! had the stopper been withdrawn, when she
gave a ouder screec than she had yet executed and
exclaim “ Faughl“ with an expression of the ,most
concentra disgust, o ned her e es fiercely upon the
offender, and shut u er nose be ween her forefinger
and thumb gainst he offence, and snuflied forth at
the ‘astonish boy “Get out 0' that, you di cur!
Can t you let a lady faint in peace and quie ness?
Gracious Heavens! would you smother me, you nasty
brute? Oh, Tom where are you?“ and she took to
sobbing forth “Tom! Tom!" and put her handker-
chief to her eyes, to hide the tears t at were not there,
- while from behind the corner of the cambric she kept
a sharp eye on the street, and observed what was going
on. S e went on ac her part “31711000111 15'. un-
til the moment Tom walked on With “Why:
but then she could feign no 10 I" and film lug u
from her seat, with an exclama ion of “ ellirute! ‘
she ran to the door, and looked down the street
after them. “The savage!" sobbed the widow; “the
hardhearted monster! to abandon me here to die—oh!
, to use me so—to leave me like a—like a "~(the widow
; was fond of similes “ like an old shoe—like a dirtv
glove—like a—like don’t know what!" (the usual fate
of similes). “ Mister Du , I’ll punish you for this—I
will i" said the widow, wit an energetic em basis on
the last word: and she marched out of the s o , boil-
over with ind tion, through which nevert eless
a tile bubble of ove now and t en rose to the surfaci-l
“a 'by the time she reached her own door, love prv:
dommated,“and she bed as she laid her hand on tbu
‘ knocker: After 311;, loghe dear flellow should be killed
me —o !——and that w \'
Dick Dawson. too—two of them. The worst of 29153.1
mi?! “31'; light” “a” “3"”  “at
en immediate! omew and
fingla Dawson the piece of worlg that was below.-
"And so he will have a shot at on, instead of ar
action?“ said Dick. “Well there‘sy pluck in that: J
wish he was more of a gentleman, foryoursake. It‘;~
dirty! work, shooting attorneys."
e s enough of a gentleman, Dick, to make it im-
possible for me to refuse him.“
Certain! , Ned!" said Dick.
:‘ Do on ow s be anything of a shot!"
‘Fai h, he makes very pretty snipe shooting but]
gimp?“ he has experience 0 the mssbefore

" You must try and find out from some one on the
ground; because, if the poor divil isn‘t a good shot I
wouldn t like to kill him and I‘ll let him on easy—ivy
give it to him in the pistolvarin. or so.”

 

th a sturdy peasantry in every-day '

xre‘”

- W'.

H???” ends

 

5

 

! |
“Very well, Ned. Where are the flutes! I musti “wouldn't it be an iligant thing to put two balls Into
uk over them.“ the pistle instead 0‘ one, and give the masther a chance
Here," said the squire, gemducing a very handsome over the 'torney f"
.naho any case of Rigby’s st. Dick opened the_case “ Oh, you murdherous villain l“
with e utmost care, and took up one of the pistols “Arrah! why shouldn‘t the masther have a chance
tenderly, hand it as delicately as if it were a youn 3 over him—sure he has childre, and ‘Torney Murphy has
child or a lady’s and. He clicked the look back an i none." ,-
forward a few times; and, his ear not beln satisfied at l “ At anfi rate, Andy, I suppose you’d ive the mas- !
the music it produced, he said he shoul like to ex- ‘ theraba additions or every child he as, and that
airline them: ‘ At all events they want a touch of oil." ! would make ei ht. So you might as well give him a ;
“Well, kee them out of the misthriss‘ sight, Dick, blunderbuss an slugs at once." . i
for she migh be alarmed." 1 Dick loaded the pistol-case, having made all right, !
“Divil a taste," says Dick: “she‘s a Dawson, and ‘ and desired An to mount a horse, carry it by a back
there never was a Dawson yet that did not know men 1 road out of the emesne, and wait at a certain gate he
must be men." ‘ named until he should be .1 lned there by himself and
" That‘s true, Dick. I would not mind so much if she ‘, the squire, who proceeded a the appointed time to the i
wasn‘t in a delicate situation Just now, when it couldn’t i und.
be expected of the woman to be so stout; so go, like a I, Andy was all ready, and followed his master and Dick
good fellow, into y0ur own room, and Andy will bring - with great pride. bearin the istol~case after them to
you anything you want." i the ground where Murp y an Tom Durfy were ready
Five minutes after, Dick was e aged in cleaning the to receive t em; and a great number of spectators were ‘
dueling pistols, and Andy at his e bow. with his mouth i assembled, for the noise of the business had gone
wide open, wondering at the interior of the locks which  abroad and the und was in con uence crowded.
Dick had just taken off. I ’I‘om burfy h warned Murtou h ul'phy. who had
“0b, in heavens! but that’s a quaro thing, Misther , no experience as a istol man, t at the squire was a 1

Die slr,’ said Andy, going to take it up. ‘ (a ital shot, and t at his onl chance was to fire as ,
“ eep our fingers off it, you thief, do!" roared q ckly ashe could. “ Slap at im, Morty, m b0 , the
Dick, in ng a rap of the turnscrew at Andy's knuck- ; minute you get the word; and if you don‘ it him it- 

les. ‘ self, it will revent his dwelling on his aim.“ .

“Shure, I‘ll save you the trouble 0' rubbin' that, Tom Dur and Dick the Devil soon settled the preli-

Misther Dick. if you let me: here‘s the shabby leather.‘ ! minaries of he ground and mode of firing, and twelve
“I wouldn‘t let your clumsy fist near it, And nor i ces h been marked. both the seconds opened

a

your shabby leather, you villain, for the world. get ' heir istol-cases and prepared to load. Andy was close 1

me some oil." to Die all the time. kneeling beside the lstol-case, ‘
Andy went on his errand, and returned with acan of which lay on the sod; and as Dick turn round to

lamp-oil to Dick, who swore at him for his stupidity;

“The divil ii away with you—you never do anything

settle some other int on which Tom Durfy questioned ‘

him, Andy though he might snatch the opportunity of 1

 

right' on b ng me lamp-oil fora pistol.“ , giving his master “the chance" he su ested to his
‘ oil] sure though lamp-oil was the right thing , second. “Sure, if Misther Dick wouldn‘ like to do it, :
for bur n‘". What‘s no raison I wouldn't," said Andy to himself,

“And who wants to burn it. on save !" i “and b the powers! I‘ll pop in a ball onknowmt to

“Aren‘t you going to fire it. girl?“ 8° ! him.” find, sure enough, Andy contrived, while the {

"Choke on, you vagabond,“ said Dick, who could ‘; seconds were engaged with each other, to put a ball ,
not resth hing, nevertheless; “beoff, and t 1118 i into each pistol ore the barrel was loaded with
some sweet oi ; but don‘t tell any one what it‘s or.“ : wder, so that when Dick took up his pistols to load a I

Andy retired, and Dick pursued his polishing of thei ullet lay between the powder and the touch-hole.
locks. Why he used such a blundering fellow as And 1 Now, this must have been discovered by Dick, had he .
for a messe er mi ht be wondered at, only that Dic been cool; but he and Tom Durf had wrangled very
was fond of un,an Andy‘s mistakes wereaparticular much about the int they had n discussi , and ‘
source of amusement to him, and on all occasions Dick, at no time v oquietest person in the worl , was’
when he could have Andy in his company he made him in such a rage that the pis ols were loaded by him .
his attendant. When the sweet oil was reduced, Dick without any of Andy's ingenious interference, and he
looked about for a feather; but, not nding one, do handed aharmless weapon to his brother-in-law when
sired And to fetch him a pen. Andy went on his er- he'PWaced him on his ground. . !
rand, an returned, after some delay, with an ink eword was given;Murtough,followm.g his friend‘s
bottle. advice, fired instantly—banghe went, whi e the squire

“ I brought you the ink, sir‘ but I can‘t find a pin.“ returned but a flash in the pan. He tumed a look of ,

“Confound our nums I! I didn't say a word reproach upon Dick, who took the istol silently from
about ink—I as ed for a pen “

 

 

. him, and handed him the other hav nE carefully looked

“And what use would a pin be without ink, now I ax to the rlming after the accident w ich happened to
yourself, Misther Dick?" , I the first?

" I‘d knock our brains out if you had any, you omad- , Durfy handed his man another pistol also; and before
(lava! ‘ Go ong, and get me a feather, and make ‘ h; Raft his side, said in a whisper, I‘Don‘t forget—have .
las 1.‘ t e rst re.‘

Andiv went off, and having obtained a feather, re- A in the word was given. Murphy blazed away a
uu-ne was the uire‘s

the lock ve delicate with oil. \ sa ty, while Andy‘s murderous inten ions were h s sal-
“ What's at for, ether Dick. sir, if you plaza?" v va on. ,
“To make it work smooth." . “ -—n the istcl!“ said "to squire, throw it down ,
“ nd what’s that thing you‘re grazin' now, sir?" . in a rage. D ck took it up with manifest in gnation, 3
“ ha ‘s the tumbler." ’ and d—d the powder. “ 1
“0 Lord! 9. tumbler—what a quare name for it. It “ Your powder's damfi)‘,a 13:111.

to Dick, who began to tip certain portions of 1 rap d and harmless shot; for his bu
e
ti

thOu ht there was no tumbler but a tumbler forl “ No, itsnot,"saidt re, “it‘s you who have,
punch.“ | bungled the loading."
“ That's the tumbler you would like to be cleaning! “ el" said Dick with alook of mingled r and !

~ 1
the nside of, And ." astonishment. ‘ I ungle theloadiug of istols! ,that ,
“'il‘hrue for 03’, sir. And what's that little thing have stepped more ground and am more affairs !
you have your nd on now, sir!“ , than an man in the countr l Arrah aisy, Ned! I
“That‘s the cock." | Tom urf now interfe , and sai for thepresent it 1
“Oh, dear, a cock! Is there e‘er a. bin in it, sir?" , was no mat er, as on thwart of his friend, he begged
“ No, nor a chicken either, then b there is a feather." 3 to express himself satisfl ‘ n 1
“The one in your hand, sir, hat you‘re grazin‘ it! “But it's very hard were not to have a shot, said i

t 1 Dick poldng the touch-hole of the pistol witha pricker, 3
$11.10,. but this little thing—that is called the feather- = which he had just taken from the case which Andy was I
a . ‘
p“ figs the feather, I suppose, makes it fly.“

l oldii before him i
i a. “a
“ No doubt of it, Andy.

, m dear Dick," said Durfy, “as Murphy has
‘ had twoyshog; and the uire has not had the return of E
“Well, there‘s some alone in that name, then; but 3 either, he declares he 1 not flreat him again; and, ‘
Who’d] thing (at sisal; attlhitng as a tilumbler and adcolrktin 1 under circumstances, I must take my man of! the r
s nw ’salacetato nsansus roun. !
313;} e? p m ' is “Very well,“ said Dick. still tracking the touch-hole, .
“The pan." { and examining the point of t e p cker as he with- §
“Well, there's sinse in that name, too, bekase there‘s , drew it. , .
ii re in the thing; and it's as nath'ral to say pan to that i “ And now Murphy wants to know. Since the affair Is 3
as to a fryin'-pan-—-isn‘t it, Misther Dick r“ all over and his honor satisfied, what was your brother- !
“Oh! there was a great gunmaker lost in ou, 1 in-law‘s motive in assaulting him tlllflnmorning, for he ,
Andy," said Dick, as be screwed on the locks, whic he , himself cannot conceive a cause for it.
had regulated to his mind, and began to elamine the i “on, be algy, Tom."
various de ments of the pistol-case, to see that it , “ ‘Ponmy soul it‘s true ‘ a
was proper y rovided. He took the instrument to cut ! “ he sent him a blister—a regular apothecar s I
some circles 0 thin leather, and Andy again asked him 5 blister—instead of some law process, by way of a 10 e,
for the name 0‘ that thing. 1 and Ned wouldn‘t stand it.
“ This is called the punch, Andy." I Durfy held a moment s conversation with Murphy, I
“ So there is the punch as well as the tumbler, sir." , who now advanced to the squire. and begged to assure .
“A , and very stron punch it is, you see, Andy;" 1 him there must be some mistake in the usiness, for
and ick struck it with

is little mahogany mallet. and I that hhg had never committed the impertinence of"
cut his tches of leather. l w c ewas accu . «
“An what's that for, sin—the leather 1 mane.“ i “ All I know is," 3d the squire, “ that I got a blis-
“ That’s for putting round the ball." ter, which my messenger said you gave him. '
“ Is it for fear 'twould hurt him too much when you “ By virtue of my oath, squire, I never did it. I gave ,
“hot him 1‘“ And an inclosure of the law ess.
, “You're a queer customer, Andy,“ said Dick, smil- ,
m l

g.

" And what weeshee little balls thim is, sir.“

" They are always small for dueling-pistols.“
“ Oh, then [him is jewelin’ istles. Why,

1

‘n

“ en it‘s some mistake that vagabond has made.“
said the squire. “ Come here, you sir!" he shouted to
‘ And . Now Andy at this moment stood trembling un.

1. der he angry eye of Dick the Devil. who, having de. ‘

musha = tected a bit of lead on the point of the pricker, guessed ,

“lather Dick, is it goin‘ to flgh a. jule you my" said , ina moment Andy had been at work, and the unfor- i all

And ,looking at him with earnestness. tunate rascal, from the furious look of Dick, had a!
“ 0, Andy, but the master is; but don‘t say a word misging that he had made some blunder. “Why 1
..bout it.“ don‘t you come here when I call you: said the ‘
“ Not a word for the world. The masther‘s oin‘ t9 ! squire. Andy laid down the pistol-case, and sneaked 1
nghtl God send him safe out iv it! amin. An who Is u to the squire. “What did you do “with the letter
he going to ht, Misther Dick i“  Murph gave you for me yesterday.
‘~ M by, t e attorney, Andy."

“ I brou t it to our honor.‘ ‘

" Oflon’t the masther disgrace himself by flghtin' “No ogu didn‘f." said Murphy. “ You've made
the ’torney?" some take. ‘ ,, ,
“ How dare you say such a thing of your master!" , “ ivil a mistake I made. answered Andy, very !

“ I ax our rd‘n, Misther Dick“ but sure you know ‘ stout] . “I wint home the minityou gov it to me.“ !
what I Janey} hope he‘ll shoot “In.” very to  “ D 9 ,you 80 home W “1 my 1101180 to the ‘
‘ Why 11 h was WE good uires .
70 madam? h m to be shoal: 1 sq“ I did—I wint direct home, and called at Mr.
‘l‘lkure, why wouldn't I rather have him kiit more . M'Garry’s by the way for some vsic for the childre." ;
man the masher?" “ That's it!" said Murtough; ‘ he changed myin- i
“ But neither may be killed.” v closure for a blister there; and if ’M‘Garrthn only 4,
“Mather Dick,“ said Andy, lowering his voice, . bad the luck to send the bit 0 parchment to i

‘ extens

‘rolli

, land
! nals of the Old

O'Grad , it will he the best joke I've heard this month
of Sun a s."

“He d d! he did!“ shouted Toni Duri‘y; “for don't
you remember how O‘Grady was after M’Garry this
morning?"

“Sure enough," said Munough, enjoying the double
mistake. “Bv dad! Andy, you‘ve made a mistake this
time that I‘ll forgive on.“

“By the were 0 war!" roared Dick the Devil; “i
won‘t for ve him what he did now, though. What do

on thinkli ' said he, holding out the pistols, and grou-
ng crimson with rage, “ may I never iii-e another slim.
if 18 hasn‘t crammed a brace of bullets down the pistol»:
lfieigre I loaded them; so no wonder you burned prime,

6 . ‘

There was a universal laugh at Dick‘s expense, whose
ride in bein considered the most accomplished regu-
ator of the uello was well known. I

“ Oh, Dick Dick! you're a pretty second!“ was
shouted by all.

Dick, stung by the lau hter, and feeling keenly the
ridiculous posit on in whic he was placed, made a rush
at An edv, who, seein the storm rewin , gradually
sneak away from 8 up, and when le perceivml
the sudden movement 0 Dick the Devil, took to his
heels with Dick after him.

“ urral" cried Murphy, “a race—a race! I‘ll bet
on Andy—five nude on Andy."
"Done!" sail the squire: ‘ I‘ll back Dick the Devil.“

“Tare an‘ ouns!" roared Murphy, “how Andy runs!
Fear‘s a fine a ma"

“So is rage, ‘ said the uire.
him. Will you double the eti“

“ Done!" said Murphy.

The infection of bet ing caught the bystanders, and
various gages were thrown and taken 11 upon the
a d of the runners, who were fiettin rap dly into the

stance, flyin over hedge ant ditc \ritll surprising
velocity, and, mm the level nature of the ground all

ve view could not be obtained, therefore om
Durfy, the steeple-chaser, cried, “Mount, mount! or
we‘ll lose the fun—into our saddles, and after them."

Those who had steeds took the lunt and a numerous
field of horsemen ioined in the pursuit of Handy And
and Dick the Devi, who still maintained reat s .
The horsemen made for a ne hboring iii], w once
they could command a wider v cw; and the betting
went on briskly, varying according to the vicissitudes
of the race.

“Two to one on Dick—he‘s closing."

“ Donel And will wind him yet. ‘

“Well done— here‘s a lea ! Hurral Dick’s downl
Well done l—~up again and i0 ng.“

“ Mind the next quickset edge—that‘s a rasper, it's a
wide ripe, and the hedge is as thick as a wall—Andy
'll st ck in it—mind h m—weil leaped, by the were:
Ha! he‘s stickin in the hedge——I)ick‘ll catch h in now.
No, by jlngo! he s pushed his way through—there, he‘s

“ Dick‘s hot-foot after

- gone again on the otherslde. Ha! ha! ha! ha! look at

im—he‘s in tattersl he has left half of his breaches in

i the hedge!“

“Dick is over now. Hurra! he has lost the skirt of
hisdcoati Andy is gaining on him—two to one on
An .“

“D’own he oesl“ was shouted asAndy‘s foot slipped
in making a ash at another ditch, into which he wenl

:head over heels, and Dick followed fast, and disap.

peared after him.

“Ride! ride !" shouted Tom Durfy; and the horse-
men put their spurs into the flanks of their steeds, and
were soon up to the scene of action. There was And

over and over in the muddy bottom of a ditch
flounr ering in rank weeds and duck‘s meat, with Dick
fastened on him, Rummcling away most unmercifull '
but not able to ki him altogether, for want of breath:
he horsemen, in a. universal street-h of laughter dis~
mounted, and disen agcd the unfortunate And rom
the fangs of Dick t 6 Devil, who was drsgge out of
the ditch much more like a scavenger than agentle-
man.

The moment And got loose, two. he r n a in
with a rattling “Ta ho!“ after hin’i’, and lhe rig/en'-
cried stop till e cart ed himself under his mother's
be]?I irlit the {lent clabini‘

u oug u y c aracterlstical] remarked that
the affair of the fly had taken a veryywhimsical turn:
— ‘ Here are you and I, squire who went out to shoot
each other, safe and well, while one of the seconds has
come off rather worse for the wear; and a poor devil,
who had nothing to say to the matter in hand, good.
bad or indifferent, is nearly killed."

The squire and Murtough then shook hands, and
parted friends half an hour after they had met as foes:
and even Dick contrived to forget his annoyance in an
extra stoup of claret that day afterdinner—fllllng more
than one bumper in drinking Wilden to Handy Andy.

I which seemed a. rather [unnecessary malediction.

 

CHAPTER IV.

Anna the friendly parting of the foes (fora tempera),
there was a general scatter of the part w 0 had come
tosee the duel: and how strange is t e fact, that as
much as human nature is prone to shudder at death
under the gentlest circumstances. yet men will congre-
gate to be its witnesses when violence aggravates the
calamity! A public execution or aduel is a focus where
burning curiosity concentrates: in the latter case, Ire-

bears the hn for a crowd; in the former, the an-
ley can amply testify. Ireland has
its own interest, too in a place of execui ion, but not in
the same de ree as England. They have been too used
to hanging n Ireland to make it piquant: “letdown
per-dike" s a saying which applies in this as in many
other cases, The gallows. in its palm days was about
of its gem“; it became rather a pastime. or the vic-
tim it was a pastime with a vengeance; for through it
time was past with him. For the rabble who beheld
his agon , the frequency of the si ht had blunted the
edge of orror. and only shat en that of unnatural
excitement, The great schoo . where law should be the
respected master, failed to inspire its intended awe:—
the legislative lesson became a mockery' and death, in-
stead of frowning with terror. grinned in a fool‘s cap
from the scaffold.

This may be doubted now, when a milder spirit pre~
sides in the conncils of the nation and on the bench;
but those who remember Ireland not very long age.
can bear witness how lightly life was valued, or death
regarded. Illustrative of his, one ma refer to the
sto of the two basket-women in Du lin, who held
ire?i le converse on the subject of an approaching exe-
cu on.

“ Won’t you so see de man die to-morrow Jud i“

“on no darlin‘," said Judy. (By-the-h o'. Juiyypro
named the 7! through her nose, and ya! " du.")

 

 

'43:“

 

“ Ah do, jewel,“ said her friend.

Judy again rcspondmi, “ llo.”

“ .And why won’t you go, dear?” inquired her friend
again.

“I’ve to wash de child,” said Judy. ‘ ' ,

“ Sure, didn’t you wash it last Week i?” said her friend,
in an cxpostulatory tonu. ,

“ Oh, well, I won t go,” said Judy.

“'l‘roth, Judy, you’re ruinin’ your health,” said this
soft-hearted acquaintance: “ (leru‘s a man to die to-
morrow, and you won‘t come—aughi—you dever take
:10 divarshinl”

And wherefore is it thus? Why should tears bedew
the couch of him who dies in the bosom of his family,
surrounded by those who love him, whose pillow is
smoothed by the hand of filial piety, whose past is
without reproach, and whose future is bi'i rht with
hope? and why should dry eyes behold the uellst or.
the culprit, in whom foil or guilt may be the cause of
a death on which the sea of censure or infamy may be
set, and whose futurity we must tremble to consider?
With more reason might we weep for the fate of either
of the latter than the fonner, and yet we do not. And
why is it so? If I may venture an o inion, it is that
nature is violated: a natural death emands and re-
ccives the natural tribute of tears; but a death of vio-
lence falls with a stunning force upon the nerves, and
the fountain of pity stagnates and will not flow.

Though there was a general scattering of the persons
who came to see the duel, still a good many rode home-
ward With Murphy, who, with his second, Tom Durfy
beside him, headed the party, as they rode gay? towari
Biegown, and laughed over the adventure 0 ndy and

1c .

“ N 0 one can tell how anything is to finish" said Tom
Durfy; “ here we came out to have a duel, and, in the
cud it turned out a bun ."

“I am glad you were not in at my death, however,”-
said Murphy, who seemed particularly happy at not
bei killed.

“ on lost no time in firing, Murtough," said one of
his friends.

“And small blame to me, Billy," answered Murphy;
“E an is a capital shot, and how did I know but he
mig t take it into his head to shoot mefL—for he’s very
hot when roused, though as good-natured a fellow in
the main as ever broke bread; and yet I don’t think,
after all, he’d have liked to do me much mischief,
either; bu you see, he couldn‘t stand the joke he
thou htI p ayed him."

“ ill you tell us what it was i” cried another of the
party, [grossing forward. “ for we can’t make it out ex-
actl , t ougli we’ve heard something of itawasn’t it
leec es you sent to him, telling him he was a blood-
sucking villain?”

A. roar of laughter from Murtough followed this ques-
tion. “ Lord, how a story gets mangled and twisted!”
said he, as soon as be con (1 speak. ‘1 Leecbesl what an
absurdit l No, it was—-” >

“ A bo tie of castor oil, wasn’t it, by way of a. present
of noyeau?” said another of the party, hurrying to the
front to put forward his version of the matter.

A second shout of laughter from Murphy greeted this
third edition of the story. “If you will listen to me, I‘ll
give you the genuine version,“ said Murtough, “which

is better, I promise on, than any which. invention
(could su . ply. The act is, Squire Egan is enraged
against ’Urady, and applied to me to harass him in
the parchment line, swearing he would blister him;
and this phrase of blistering occurred so often, that
when I sent him over a bit 0‘ archment, which be en-
flitged to have served on my old O’Grady, I wrote to

'm, ‘Deal: Squire I send you the blister;’ and that

most ingenious pfall blunderers, Handy Andy, being the
bearer, and calling at Mr. M‘Garry’s sho on his wa
home, picked up from the counter a real lister, whic
was folded up in an inclosure something like the pro-
cess and left the law-stinger behind him. '-‘

“ That’s gratel” cried Doyle.

“ Oh, you have not heard the best of it yet,” added
Murphy. “ I am certain the bit of parchment was sent
to O Grady, for he was limiting M Garry this morning\
through the town, with a cudgel of portentous dimen-
sions-put that and that together."

“No mistakei” cried Doyle; “ and divil pit O‘Grady,
for he‘s a blustering, swaggering, overbe ng, ill-tem-

cred—
p “ Hillo, billo, Bill!” interrupted Murphly, “ you are
too hard on the adjectives; besides, ou’ spoil your
appetite if you ruflie your temper, an that would fret
me. for I intend you to dine with me to-day. ’ '

“Felt an” I‘ll do that same, Mimough, my boy, and
glad to asked, as the old maid said.”

“I’ll tell you‘what it is,” said Mu by; “boys, you
must all dine With me to-day, and drip long life to me,
since I‘m not killed."

“ There are seventeen of us,” said Durfy; “ the little
parlor won’t hold us all."

“ But isn’t there a big room at the inn, Tom?" return-
ed Murphy, “ and not better drink in Ireland than Mrs.
Fay‘s. What do you say, lads—one and all-will you
dine with me?”

“Will a. duck swim?" chuckled out Jack Koran, an
oily veteran, who seldom opened his mouth but to put
something into it,.and spared his words as if they were
of veg? and to 4 make them appear so, he spoke in
3P0 egms- ' ‘ -

“Bl/hat say you, James Reddyf".said Murtough.

“ Ready, sure enough, and willing, tool answered
James, who was a small wit, and made the aforesaid
play upon his name at least three hundred and sixty-
iive times ever year. _

“Oh, we’ll a 1 come," was uttered right and left;

“Good men and tmei“ shouted Murphy; ‘won t we
make the rafters shake, and turn the cellar inside out!
Wliool ,I’m in cat heart to-day. But who is this
powdhgfi up t 8 road? By the powers! ’tie the doc:

11% , '; ’tis—I know his handy but over the cloud
of this .‘ ' ‘ ' r

The individual thus dhslgnatcd as the doctor now
emerged from the obscurity in which he had been en—
velOped, and was received with a loud shout by the
whole cavalcade as he approached them. Both parties
(new rein and the doctor, liftin from his head the
aforesaid band y hat. which was s ouched over, one e c,
with a sinister droop, made a low obeisance to Murp y,
and said, with a mock solemnity, “Your servant,
so you‘re not killed?” I

, ‘ No,” said Murphy' “and you’ve losta job which I
see you came to look for; but you’re not to have the
carving of me yet.” _

” Considering it's so near Michaelmas, I think you’ve
had a great escape, 5: nor,” returned the doctor.

 Ne York Library,

self with carving something more innocent than an at-
torney today—though at an attorney’s cost. You
must dine With-1116.,

“ Willing] , Signor,” said the docto; “ but pray don’t
make use 0 the word ‘cost.’ Ihate to hear it out of
an attorne ’s mouth—or bill, I should say.”

A laugh allowed the doctor’s pleasantly, but no smile
appeared upon his countenance, for though uttering

uaint and often verngood,‘but, oftener very bitter
t lugs, he never mov a .muscle of his face, while
others were shaking their sides at his sallies. lie was,
in more ways than one, a remarkable man. A massn/c
head, Large and rather protrudin eyes, lank hair,
slouchlng‘ ears, 8. short neck, Ian broad shoulders,
rather inclined to stooplng, a long body, and short le s,
slightly bowed, consti I
lemon-colored comnplexion, which a residence of some
years in the East dies had produced, did not tcndto
increase his beauty. His mind displayed a superior ui-
telli ence, original views, .
opin ons, with a power of satire and ii iculc which ren-
dered him a pleasing friend or a dangerous enemy, as

foe were treated with nearly e ual severity, if a. joke
or a sarcasm tempted the. assa t. , His own profession
hated him, for he uns aringly ridiculed all. stale prac-
tice, which his convic 'on led him to believe was inc -
ficient, and he darineg introduced fresh, to the no small
indignation of the more out and dry portion of the fac-
ulty for whose hate he returned contempt, of which he
ma e no secret. From an extreme coarseness of man-
ner, even those who behaved in his skill were afraid to
trust to his humor, and the dislike of his brother prac—
titioners to meet him superadded to this, damaged his
interest considerably, and prevented his being called
in with extreme d or frightened patients, or their
friends, into sending or Dr. Growling. Ills careless-
ness in dress, too, inspired disgust in the fair portion of
the creation, and “ snuffy” and “dirty,” “savage” and
“brute” were among the sweet words they applied to

him. ,

Nevertheless, those who loved a joke more than they
feared a hit would run the risk of an occasmnal thrust
of the doctor’s stiletto for the sake of enjoying the
mangling he gave other peOple, and such rollicking
fellows as Mu by, and Durfy, and Dawson, and Squire
E an potted th social hedgehog. _

he doctor now turned his horse’s head, and jomed
the cavalcadeto the town. “I have blown my ROSi-
Eiante,” said he; “I was in such a hurry to see the
am.

“Yes ” said Murph , “he smokes.” . - '

“ An his master ta es snuff,“ said the doetor, snit-
ing the action to the word. “ I su pose, signer, you
were thinking a little while a o tho the squire might
serve an ejectment on your tality?”

“ Or that in the trialbetween us I might get dam—
ages,” said M 113'.

“ There is a erence in such case," said the doctor,
“ between a court of law and the court of honor, for in
the form ’ r the man is plaintiff before he gets his dam-
ages, w e in the latter itis after he gets his damages
that he com lalns.”

“I‘m gla my term is not

Muiflhy. ‘ _
“ it had been,” said the doctor, “I think you‘d
have bad a long vacationin limbo."

“And sup ose Ihad been hit," said Murphy, “you
would have een late on the ground. You re a pretty
friendl ,

“It's my luck sir ” said the doctor; “ I'm always late
for a job. By-the-by, I’ll tell on an amusinlg fact of
that musty piece of bumanit , liss J inkins. er niece
was dan erousl ill, and she ad that hcensed slaughtv
erer, Ki anma tryingto tinker her up, till the poor

‘ l was past, hope, and then she seends for me.
glib swore, some time ago, I shall never darken her
doors, but when she an to a prehend that death was
rather a darker gent eman t n I she tolerated my

erson. The old crocodilemet me in the hall—by-the
by did you ever remark she's like a crocodile, only
not with so pleasing an expresslon?——a.nd wringing her
hands she cried ‘ Oh, doctor, I’ll be boun to
you foreverl'-—I hope not, tho hi: I to myself.

Save my Jemima, doctor, an there 3 nothing
I won’t do to rove my gratitude.’ , ‘Is she ion
ill ma'am?’ sal I. ‘A fortnight, doctor ’ I wis
Ihad been called in sooner, ma am,’ says —for, pon
my conscienbe, Murphy, it is too ridiculous the way
the people go on about me. ,I verily believe they think
I can raise peopieout of their graves; and they call
me in to repair the damafiiis diseaserand. the doctors
have been making; and w e the gentlemen in black
silk stockings, wi h gold-headed canes, have been fob-
bin fees for three weeks, perhalps. they 03-“ m 901‘
Jae Growllng, who acorns 'Jac -a—dandyism., 81'! he
gets a solitary guinea for mending the bun 1111:; that
cost something to the tune of twenty or t yper-
haps. And when I have plucked them from the jaws
of death—re ularly cheated the sexton out of them—
thc best W015 they have for. me is to call inc a pig, or
abuse my boots. or wonder that the doctor is not more
particular'about his linen—the fools! But to return to
my gentle crocodile. I was shown upstairs to the 810k
room, and there, sir, I saw the, unfortunate 811‘], Speech-
less, at the last gasp absolutebr, The Killanniaul dandy
had left her to die—absolutely given her up. and, than,
indeed, I’m sent for! Well was in a m ,6. and was,
rushin out or the house, when the croc we laid
me in file hall. ‘ 0h doctor, won is you do some bins
for my Jemima?’ ‘ can’t, ma’am. says: I; but, Mr,
Fogarty call.’ ‘Mr. F0 artyi' says she- .Yes Ilia am.

says I. ‘You have staken my profession. Miss me
kins—I’m a doctor, ma. am; but
for an undertaker /’ ” , ” ,
“Well, you hit her hard doctor, said M111;
, “Sig-avou might aswe Int 3. rhinoceros,
thigh: or'han ‘ edJ kH'

‘ 811 s we dine?” ask ac , 011m. A '

"As soon as Mrs. Fay can let us have the eatsbles,”
answered Murp ; “and, byvthe-by, Jack, I leave the
ordering of the nor to you, for no man on
better ow to do that same: beSides, I want to leave
my horse in my own stable and I’ll be up at the um.
after you, in a brace of shakes.”

The troop now a preached the town. Those who
lived there rode to Emir own stables, and returned to
the party at Mrs. F 5; While they who tended at a
distance-dismoun m; therdoor of the inn, which soon
became a Scene of bustle in all its departments from
this large influx of guests; and the preparation for the
dinner, excee ‘ ,in scale what Mrs, Fay was generally.
called upon tovproylde, exceptwhep the tissuesi or
races. or other such cause of commotio demandc all.

ended, however," said

returned

 

“Sure enough," Salk Murphy, laughing; "but you’re
late this time: so you 1111,15.“wa ' and content your-,7

 

uted his outward man; an a.

contem t of received

the case may be: though, to say thetruth, friend and ‘

I suppose you took me ,

derstands .

- moumful sm

 

W Vol. I.

had them. So the Dinuys, and the Tims, and. the
Mickeys, were rubbing down horses, cleaning knives,
or drawing forth extra tables from their dusty repose;
and the Biddys, and Judys, and Nellys, were washing-
up lates, scouring pans, and brightening up extra
can lesticks, or doiir' deeds of doom in the poultry-
yard, where an audib e commotion gave token of tho
prematuredeaths of sundry superhumerary (‘hlckens

Murphy soon joined his guests, grinning from ear to
ear, and rubbing his hands as he entered. .

“Great news, boys,” said he; “who do you think
was at my house, when I got home, but M‘Garry, Willi
his head bandaged up, and his whole body as he do—
clares, bearing black and blue testimony to the Illel‘t'l-
loss attack of the bold O’Grady, against whom he
mveal's he’ll bring an act ion for assault andbattery.
Now, boys, I thought it would be great fun to have him
here lo dinner—it’s as good as a play to hear him de-
scribe the thrashing—so I askm him to come. He
said he was not in a fit state to dine out; but I egged
him on by saying that a, sight of him in his present
{light would excite sympathy for him, and stir up up

1'0 feeling against O‘G-rady, and that all would to] in
the action, as most likely some of the resent com )any
might be on the jury, and would be t ie better ab e to
judge how far he was entitled to damages, from Wit—
livssillg the severity of the injury he had received. So
he‘scoming; and mind, you must all be deeply affected
at his sufferings, and impressed with the powerful dc-
scri tion he gives of the same.”

“ ery scientific, of course ” said old G rowliug.

“ Extenswely so,” returned Murphy; “he laid on the
Latin [team .”

“ Yes—t e fool!“ growled the doctor; “he can’t help
sporting it even on me. I went into his sho ) one day,
and asked for some opium wine, and he could not resist
callin it 1:anm 01/”; as he handed it ‘to me.”

“ e’ll make him a martyr!” cried Durf .

“We‘ll make him dhrunkl” said Jack Oran, “and
that will be better. He brass that he never was what
he calls ‘inebriatcd ’ in his nit; and it will be great fun
to send him home on a door, with a. note to his wife,
who is roud of his ropriety.”

Asrt y spoke, ‘Gari'y entered, his head freshly
bound up, to look as genteel as possible amongst the
rentlemen with whom he was to have the honor of
(ining. His wife had sug ested a pink ribbon, but
M‘Garry, while acknowledging his wife‘s su rior taste,
said black would look more professions . The odd
fellows to whom he had now committed himself,
crowded, round him, and, in the most exaggerated

‘ phrases, implied the high sense they entertained of At,-

wrongs and O’Grady’s aggression.

“Unprovoked attackl’ cried one.

“ Save e rfl‘fian l” ejaculated another.

“ Wba atrocity 1” said a third. _

“What dignified composurei” added a fourth, in an
audible whisper, meant for M‘G arry‘s ear.

“Gentlemenl” said the a othecary, flurried at the
extreme attention of which 8 became the object; “ I
beg to assure you I am dee ly——that is—tliis proof of~
of—of—of symptoms—gent omen—1 mean sympathy,
gentlemen—in short I reall —”

“The fact is," said Grow ing “1 see Mr. M‘Garry is
rather shaken in nerve—who her from loss of blood
or— A '

“I have lost a quantity of blood, doctor,” said
M‘tfiarry; “much vascular, to say nothing of extrava-
sa ecl.‘

“ Which I’ll state in my case,” said Murphy.

“Murphy, don’t interrupt,” suid Growliug, who, with
avery grave face, rccommenccd: “Gentlemen, from
the cause-ah'eady stated, I see Mr. M‘Gany is not iro-
pared to answer the outpouring of feeling with w ich
you have greeted him, and if I might be permitted—9

Every one shouted. “ Certainly—certainlyi"

“Then as I am perniittcd,,1 will venture to res and
for Mr. M‘Garry, and address 1Eon, as he would ad ress
you. In the words of Mr. ‘Garry, I would say——
Gentlemen—unaccustomed as I am "—Some smothered
laughter, followed this beginning; upon which the doc-
tor, with a mock gravity, proceeded:

“Gentlemen, this interruption I considerto be an 'n-
fringement on the liberty of the subject. I recom-
mence, therefore, in the words of my honorable and

wounded friend. and our honorable and wounded fecl- ,

ings, and so as m friend would sa or t k
classically, MYGarr lgquin/r—” y, ’ o Spea

I The apothecary owed his head to the bit of Latin,
and the doctor continued: ,

“ Gentlemen—unaccustomed to public thrashing. you
can conceive what my feelings are at the resent mo—
ment in mind and body. [Brawl] You be old an out-
rage . uch confuswn,./Lln8hall an exaggerated savagely
like t is/etca e puuis cut, and ‘the calm sequester-
ed vale ’ (ast ie poet calls it) of private life ravaged
With impunity? [Brava, brat-o! Are the learned pro-
fessions to be trampled under oot by barbarian i nor
ance andbrutalityi NO' I read in the indignant ooks
of my auditory their high-sowed answers. Gentlemen,
your sympathy is better than diachylon to my wounds,
and this is the proudest do of my life.”

Thunders of applause f0 owed the doctor’s address
and every one 5 00k M‘Garry’s hand, till his bruised
bones aclied again. Questions poured upon him from
all sides as to t a nature and quantity of his drubbing,
to allof winch M‘Garry innocently answered in terms
of exaggeration, $131ch With selentiflc phrases. Muscles.
tendons, bones, and mnews were particularized with the
precision of an anatomical demonstration; he swore“ he
was (pulverized, and paralyzed, and all the other lies be
can] think of.

“ A_ lar estick you say i” said Murphy.
“ Sir never saw such a stick—’twas like a weaver’s
bemlnfin . ‘ I

“ ‘ make a note of that ” saidi Mm h .
.weaver’s beam—’twill tell well with a jury!”13 y

“ And beat you all over?” said Dui‘fy. '

-“ From shoulder to flank, sir, I am one mass of welts
and weals; the abrasures are extensive, the bruises
ter‘rlfic, particularly in the lumbar region."

“ Where s that i” asked Jack IIoran.
loiughe lumbar region is what is commonly called the
, . , Sll'.

“ hot-always,” said the doctor. “It varies in differ—
entgubgects: I have known some people whose I‘UmLtl‘
region lay in the head.” , ' ,

You laugh, gfntlemen,” said M‘Garry, with a

e; “ ut you know the doctor will be jocu—
lar._” .Hethen continued to describe the various other
re ions of his injuries, amidst the well-acted pitde
in . nation of the queer fellows who drew, him out,
unto they were satui‘atec so far, with the fun of the
s-illJcct. After which

“A

‘ _ ’ ‘ ‘ llurph , “hose restlcs tem-
the resources 91 her establishmem‘ an more, if she i pennant stud never let LIN. e quiet for a. moment. '

l... ...M.......,...,.....l‘

 

n. mm... m. . . . .

 

mu _,.-... .

._ ,Wm,ufl..,m.m ., ..

 

No. 9.

 

suggested that they should divert themselves before
dinner with a badger-fight. .

“ Isn‘t one tight 8. day enough for you, signor?" said
the doctor.

“It is not every day we get a badger you know,"
said Murphy; “ and heard just now from Tim the
waiter that there is a horse-dealer lately arrived at the
stables here, who has a famous one with him, and I
know Reilly the butcher has two or three capital dogs
and there’s a wicked mastiii‘ below stairs, and I'll sen
[or my 'bui’fer,‘ and we'll have some spanking sport."

He led his’guesls then to tin» inn ard, and the horse-
ilouler, for a consideration, allowe his badger to wage
battle: the noise of the alfair spread through the town,
while they were making their arrangements, and send-
ing right and left for dogs for the contest; and a pretty
considerable crowd soon assembled at the place of
action, where the hour before dinner was spent in the
intellectual amusement of a badger-light.

CHAPTER V. ' .

THE fierce yclls of the badger-fight, rin ing far and
wide, soon attracted a crowd, winch con inued to in-
crease every minute by installments of men and boys,
who might be seen running across a small ileld by the
roadside, close to the scene of action, which lay at the
back of the inn; and heavy-coped and skirted frieze
routs streamed behind the full-grown, while the rags of
the gossoons’l‘ fluttered in the race. Attracted by this
evidence of “something gomg on," a horseman, who
was approaching the town, urged his horse to speed,
and turning his head toward a yawning double ditch
that divide the road from the field, he gracefully rode
the noble animal over the spanking leacp.

The rider was Edward O’Connor; an he was worthy
of his name—the pure blood of that loyal race was in
his heart. which never harbored a sentiment that could
do it dishonor, and overiiowed with feelings which'en-
noble human nature, and make us proud of our kind.
He was 'ouiig and handsome; and as he sat upon his
mettled orse, no lady could den ' that Edward O’Con-
nor was the very type of the gal ant cavalier. Though
attached to ever manly sport and exercise, his mind
was of a refine order; and a youth missed amidst
books and some of tho loveliest scene n_Ireland had
nurtured the poetic feeling with whic his mind was
gifted, and which found its vent in many a love—taught
t

 

ric, or touching ballad, or s iirit-stirring song, whose
eme was national glory. 0 him the bygone days of
his country’s history was dear, made more familiar by
many an antique rehc which hung around his own room
in his father’s house. Celt, and sword. and spear-head
of Phoenician bronze, and golden gorget, and silver bod-
kin and ancient harp, and studded crosier, were there-
on these time-worn evidences of arts, and arms, and
letters, flattered the infection With which he looked
back on the ancient history of lreland, and kept ahve
the ardent love of his country With which he glowed—a
love too deep, too pure, to be likely to expire, even
without the aid of such poetic sources of excitement.
To him the names of Fitzgerald, and Desmond, and Ty-
rone, were dear; and there was no romantic legend of
the humbler outlaws With which he was not familiar:
and “Charley of the Horses,” and “ Ned of the Hill,”
Abut headed the list of names he loved to recall; and the
daring deeds of bold spirits who held the hillside for
liberty, were often given in words of poetic fire from
the 1i 5 of Edward O’Connor.
fl 11m yet Edward O‘Connor went to see the badger-
g it. .
There is something inherent in man's nature. urging
him to familiarize himself with cruelty; and, erha ,
without such a power of witnessing sav e eeds, e
would be unequa to the dominion for whic he was de-
signed. Men of the highest order of intellect the world
has known have loved the chase. How admirably Scott
dis lays this tendency of noble minds, in the meeting
of llen with her father—when Douglas says:

“ The chase I followed for;
'Tis mimicry of noble war.”

And the effect of this touch of character is hightened
by Douglas in a subsequent scene—Douglas, who could
enjo t e sport which ends in death bending over his
gent 9 child, and dropping tears of the tenderest affec-
tion—tears which

“ Would not stain an angel‘s cheek.”

Superadded to this natural tendency, Edward O’Con-
nor had an additional motive. He lived among a society
of sporting men, less cultivated. than he was, whose
self-esteem would have eaSily ignited the spark _of
jealous if he had seemed to scorn the tin s which
made their principal enjoyment, and formed t e chief
occu ation of. their lives; and his good sense and good
has. (and there is an intimate connection between
them) pointed out to him that, wherever your lot is
cast,-dut to yourself and others suggests the propriet
of adaptin your conduct to the circumstances in whic
You are p ced (so long as morahty and decency are
not violated), and that the manifestation of one s own
superiority may render the purchase too dearnby'being
bought at the terrible rim: of our neighbor s dislike.
He. therefore, did not tel everybody he wrote verses:
he kept the gift as secret as he could. If an error,
however gross, on any subject, were made in _h15_ PTBS'
ence, he never took willing notice of it; or if Circum-
stances obliged him to touch upon it, it was always
done with a politeness and tact that afforded the blun-
derer the means of retreat. If some gross historical
error, for instance, happened to be committed in a. con-
versation with himself(m1d then onl ), he would set the
mistake right, as a matter of conscience, but he would
do so by saying there was a great similarity between
the event spoken of and some other event. “I know
what you are thinki of," he would say, “but you
make a slight mistake in the dates; the two stories are
very similar, and hkely to mislead one."

But with all this .modest reserve. did the least among
his companions think him the less clever? No. It was
shrewdly sus ected he was a (poet; it was wen known
he was big y educated on accom hshed; and yet
Edward 0 Connor was a universal avorite. bore he
character of being a “ real fine fellow ” and was loved
and respected by the most illiterate of the yo men
of the conntr '; who, in allusmn to his extensive ore on
the sub act 0% the legendary heroes of the romantic his-
lo of i'eland, his own Christian name, and his imme-
dia e place of residence. which was near anwlld moun-
tain pass, christened him “ Ned of the Hill.

His appearance amidst the crowd assembled to wit-

ness the rude s rt was hailed with pleasure—varying

from the numb but meatlonate respect of the peas-

fi—w .
I!” . '

 

t V“?

 

HendrAndv-

ant who cried “Lon life to you, Misther O’Connor,“
to t e hearty burst o equality, which welcomed him as
“ Ned of the Hill.“ .

The fortune of the fight favored the badger, who
proved himself atrump; and Murph apprecmtod his
worth so highly that, when the

bati'lo was over, he
would not quit the ground until he became his owner,
at a high pribe to the horse-dealer. His next move was
to insist on Edward O’Connor dining with him; and
Edward, after man excuses to avoid the party he
foresaw would be a inking bout~of which he had a
special horror, notwithstanding all his toleratiou»
yielded to the entreaties of Murphy, and consented to

9 his guest, just as Tim the waiter ran up, steaming
from eve pore, to announce that the dinner was
“ ready to e sarved.j’ '
fl‘h’l‘hen sarve it, 311‘," said Murphy, “and sarve it

g t."

Oil' cantered Tim, steaming and snortin like a loco-
motive engine, and the _art followed to t e inn, where
a long procession of ish- earors was ascendin the
stairs to the big room, as Murphy and his friends
entered.

The dinner it is needless to describe One dinner is
the same as another m the most essential points,
name] , to satisf hunger and slake consequent thirst;
and w ether bee and cabbage, and heavy wet, are to
conquer the dragon of appetite, or your stomach is to
sustain the more elaborate attack fired from the bat-
terie de cuisine of a finished artiste, and moistened with
champagne, the diiference is onlyhof degree in the
fashion of the thing and the tic 'n of the palate:
hunger is as thoroughly satisfied wit the one asthc
other; and head-aches manufactured out of the beauti-
ful, bright, and taper glasses which bear the foam of
France to the lip, as from the coarse, flat-bottomed
tumblers of an inn that reek with punch. At the dinner
there was the same tender solicitude on the part of the
carvers as to “ Where you would like it i” and the same
carelessness on the part of those whom they ues-
tioned who declared the had no choice “but if t are
was a little bit near the s iank." etc., or ‘ if there was a
liver wing to mare.” By the way, some carvers there
are who push an aspirant‘s patience motor. I have
seen some who, after givmg away both Wings, and all
the breast, two sidebones, and the short legs, meet the
eager look of the fifth man on their left With a smile
and ask him with an emontery worth of the Old
Bailey, “Has be any choicer and, at t e same time,
toss adrum-stick on the destined plate, or boldly at-
tempt to divert his melancholy with a merry-thought.
All this, and more, was there at Murtou h Murphy’s
dinner, long memorable in the count mm a rolic
that wound up the evening, which soon egan to warm,
after the cloth was removed, into the sort of a thing
commonly known by the name of a jolliflcation. But
before the dinner was over. oor M‘Garry was nearly

ickled: Jack Horan, havmg etermined to make him
grunk, arranged a system of attack on M‘Garry‘s
sobriety which bade defiance to his prudence to With-
stand. It was agreed that every one should ask the
apothecary to take wine; and he, poor innocent man!
when gentlemen whom he had never had the honor to
meet at dinner before addressed him With a
smile, and said, “Mr. M’Garry, will you do me the
honor ? " could not do less than fill his glass every time;
so that, to use Jack Horan’s own phrase, the apathe-
cary was “sewed up" before he had any suspic on of
the fact; and, unused to the indications o approaching
vinous excitement, he SBPPOBed it was the delightful
society made him 0 ho». con, and he began 'to launch
forth after dinner in a manner uite at variance with
the reserve he usually malntaine in the resence of his
su riors, and talked largely. Now, M’ an 's princi—

failing was to make himself appear very earned in
his profession; and every new discovery in chemistry;
0 oration in surgery, or scientific experiment he heard
0? he was prone to above in, head and shoulders, in his
soberest moments; 'but now that he was half-drunk, he
launched forth on the sub 'ect of galvanism havmg read
of some recent wonderfu eit'ects produced on the body
of a recent murderer who was hanged and given over
to the College of Sur eons in Dublin. To impress the
company still more w th a sense of his learning, be ad-
dressed Gmwlin on the subject, and the doctor played
him off to advan e. a,

“Don’t on thin it very wonderfqu doctor? in-
quired M‘l‘ arry, speaking somewhat thickly.

“ Very,” answered the doctor, dryly.

“The say sir, the man-that is, t e ub act—when
under t c influence of the battery, abspl te twiddled
his left foot, and raised his right arm. ”

“And raised it to some purpose. too, said the doc-
tor: “ for he raised acontusmn on the gurgeon-Gen-
eral’s eye, having hit him over the“same.

“ Dear met—I did not hear that.

“It is true, however " said the doctor; “and that

ves you an idea of the power of the galvanic in-

ucnce, for on know the Bur eon-General is a power-
ful man, and, at he cowgirl)“; Gold him down."

“ Wonderfu 1" New p ‘ .

“ But that‘s nothinglto what hagpened in London,"
continued the doctor. " They experimented there the

other day with a batte fvfjsuch Ower, £12123 the 
hang b h 6 map up so use
Who was eda sgiaikinga rush on' the assembiifd

from the table, and
Faculty of London,
time; clashed into _
tempted to stop him: m

cleared the theater in less than no
the hall' stabbed the porter who at,—
e a. chivy dowil (t‘hthOuth
ide of Leicester S uare; and as. 6 rose is ecor-
Star. a woman, whoqwas ca tracts published by
the Society for the Suppress on. of Vice, shrieked at
beholdi a man in so startling a condition, and
tainicdl e, with a presence of mind perfectly ad.
mirable whipped the cloak from her back, and threw
it round him, and scudding thro h the tortuous a].
leys which abound in that no hbor 00%, made his way
tothe house where the learn Societyo Noviom ans
hold their convi‘vlail gating, and, telling the lan lord
h was inv to ere
thatlode admittance. and, it is supposed, took his 0p.
portunity for escaping. for he has not smce been heard
of.”

“Good heavens!" gasped M‘Garry; “ and do you be.
' n
hQY%£%th%t£rgiri My belief :51 that galvanism is, in
fee the original princi is (if vi lty.” . ‘

“ ould we notf 31-50%, "(1 , cried M Garry,
It

at this triumph 0 should. Mr. M‘G‘m‘y’” said the

“I don’t think 0“
do etc, ' v ; for it would utter destro your
brawl; flmwmfasion; phu'macopo ts, ms of

com undin medicine must com ound with their
creifigrs; t ey are ut'ter

e Mercu is no
lougerln the ascendant; mlydocton ' have to 32' now is
' i .

3‘. , i

dinneras a curiosity, he .

 

, I we..- ,.

to carry a small buttery about them, a. sort of galvanic
ckct-pistol, I may say, and restore the vital principle

y its application.’

“ You are not serious, doctor?” said lll‘llin-ry, be-
coming very serious, with that wise look so peculiar to
drunken men.

“ Never more serious in my

“ That would be dreadful,‘

“ Slwckiny, on mean," said the dm-Inr.

“ Leave 0 your confounded scicnlilics, thorn, ’
shouted Murphy from the head of iiil’ tunic, “and M.
us have a song.“

“ I can‘t sing, indeed, Mister Murphy." said lll‘liurri',
whobccunic more intoxicated every moment; lor in
continued to drink, having overstepped ilio boundary
which custom had prescribed to him.

“ didn’t ask you, man," said Murphy: "bill my
darling fellow, Ned here, will gladdcn our hearts and
cars with a stave."

“Bravo!” was shouted round the lubll‘, li'cinbling
under the “thundcrs of applausc“ with which liwivy
hands made it rin again, and “Ned ol' the Hill!"
“Nod 01’ the Hill! ' was Vin-iterated with many a
heart cheer about the board that might inde ho
calle “festive.”

“ Well,” said O’Connor, “ since you cull upon me in
the name of Nod of the Hill, l’ll give you itt‘vliilg Iill(ii r
that veryiitle IIci‘e’s Nod of the llill‘s n\‘.’l| shoui ;"
and ina rich manly voice he sung, with ihc fire of it
hard, these lines;

T1111? SHOUT 0F NED 011’ ’l'lllt‘ 1111.11.

lilo, sir.”
said M‘liui'i‘y,

l.

The hill! the hilll, with its s arkling rill,
And its dawning air so lig it and pure,

Where the morning’s eye scorns the mists that lie
On tho drowsy valle and the moor.

Here, with the eagle, rise botinws;
Here, with the ea rle, iny si etc I keep;

The first we see of t e mornini,r sun,
And his last as he sets o’cr i, no deep,

And there, while strife is rife below,
Here from the tyrant I am free;

Let shepherd slaves tho valley praise,
But t c hill! the bill for incl

11.
The baron below in his castle dwells,
And his garden boosts the costly rose:
But mine is thokoe of the mountain sire ,
are the match ess wild ilowor freely )lows.
Let him fold his sheep, and his harvest reap—u
I look down from my mountain throne;
And I choose and ilck of tho flock and the rick,
And what is his can make my own. ’
Let the valley 'row in its wealth below
And the lord cop his high degree;
But hi her am I in my liberty—
The illl the bill for me!

O’Connor’s song was greeted with what the music
publishers ai‘efleused to designate, on their title—pages,
“ distgilfuishe a plause?’ and his “health and song ’
were ed to ancfi rank with enthusiasm.

“Whose lines are those?" asked the doctor.

“ I don‘t know,” said O’Connor. '

“Tha ’s as much as to say they are your own,“ said
Growliug. “Ned, don’t be too modest-4t is tho worst
fault a man can have who wants to get on in this
world.‘

“The call is with you, Ned," shouted Murphy from
the head of the table; “knock some one down for a

sonifi‘ ,
“ r. Reddy, I ho 9, Will favor us,"__suid Edwa
with ii courteous inc ination of his head toward t
gentleman he named. who returned a very low bow
with man protestations that he would “do his best,‘
etc; “bu after Mr. O’Connor, re-all,\',”-—aud this was
said with a certain self-complacent sinilc, indirmvivo of
his being on very good terms with himself. Now, James
Roddy wrote rhymes—bless the mark l- wand was! toler~
ably well convinced that, except ’l‘oni Moore (if he did
exec t even him), there was not a man in the British
dominions his equal at a 1. no. He swig, too, with u,
kill-me-quite air as if no la y could resist his strains;
and to ' ive effect," as he called it, he licganovcry
stanzaas oud as he could, and llnisliod it in a gentle
murmur—tailed it ofl? ve ,taper, indeed; in short, it
seemed as if 3. about had ecu suddenly smitten with
consumption, cuddled in a whisper. And this, his
style, he never varied, whatever the nature or copies»
sion of the song might be. or die sense to be expressed;
but as he very often sung his own, there Wei-e seldom
any to consider. ' This rubbish ho had sci to music by
the country mimic-master, who believed himself to ho
a better composer than h‘ir John Stevenson, to whom
the prejudices of the world gave the palm; and he
el‘ly caught at the opportunity which tho‘vcrscs
an Vanity of Roddy afforded him, of slriiiginghist ot-
ohcts and quavers on the sumo hank with tho nboi‘luvo
fmits of Reddy’s muse, and the wretched praxluctions
hung worthily together. ,

Roddy, with the proper quantity of “ hemsund lum'B. ‘
and rubbing down his upper lip and chin With his forty
finger and'thumb, cleared his throni, tossed his nose
illlto the air, and said he was going to give the “ a little

(mic thin .“

“Just logk at the puppy!" snarled out old Growling
to his neighbor: “ he s oing to iiioas.:i-c us' out some
yards of his own insulin, ’ni surc— he looks so pleased."

Reddy gave ms last “ n—hoin!“ and sung what he

6

call (1 V
THE LAMENT 0F Ala/AIME
The graceful Greek, with gem bright hair,
Her garments rent, and rem, the air; ,

u what a, tearing rage she was in!" said 0) l Growling,
in an under-tone. «
With subs and sighs
And tearful eyes,
Like fountain fair of Helicon!

“0h, thunder and lightning!” growled the doctor.
who pulled a letter out of his pocket, and began to
scribble on the blank portions of it, with tho stump of a
blunt pencil, which he very audibly sucked, to enable
it to make a. mark.

For ah, her lover false was gone!
The fickle brave,
And fickle wave,

“ And pickled cabbage," said the doctor.

Combined to cheat the fickle fair.
on, fickle! fickle! fickle!

1.” .- L...’--.»v~->-v~.x_-:.4a'.._.~ __.r w .W- us

xx. :. ,. '. '... .V. x- 1...;-*. ._,_.,',.,  ..

8 _ r M The New York? Library.

 

7 Vol. I.

   

 

 

But the brave should be true, A print of their masther his want of clothes, and the riot about him. and the

; And the fair ones too— Is often in leather fumes of the vinegar. roused M‘Ga , who turned on
, True, true, 0’ Paris, put over e door of a tsp; the bed and opened his eyes. There e saw a reel of
i As the ocean‘s blue! A fine chubby fellow, people standing round him with candles in the r hand~,
‘3 And Ariadne had not been, Ripe, rosy. and mellow, and countenances of drunken wonder and horror.
:1; Deserted there, like beauty’s queen. Like a|peach that is ready to drop in your lap. He uttered a hollow groan, and cried:
«  Bacchus, Italimm‘éiewu‘i?“ism”. . ..
Ii “ Beau lful!" said the doctor, with an a roving nod I “5’ ‘ . rev “ emf“?! .53" e 0‘3 on w“ "9" 1 
" at Redd}, who continued his song, Whilgpthe doctor He’s 8' mend 0f the “90le like bow“ cum arm”. mhllgauliho l mt‘gdel 11' ‘retlre—aulb‘fi thallmdfrmdgll
ii continued to write. w ‘ I'D y c 631 6 won}, link 5 ut t e ( cor, w F
ii 1 h g h . MhGarry stIil’l ke t sxgfigmln B LSagellms and keep us!
i' The sea-ll m hs rounc t e sea- rt s ore Now Bacchus. e 'vi W ere am 15 5 01‘ ’

 d filoclfie the inaiden’s sighs; H The lady was glitz-(£113,113 qéthOfiI’re detadl't’ said Ml!1rphy; “and the coroner's in.
.4 All t e Ocean’s sav e roar e s k to he ' ' v . s as us sa on you " '

V Replies— W W ind m; $311.1; $1225; Egrgmwnk' “ Dead VJ cried M‘Garry With a horrified stare.

V Re lies~replies—replies, replies, replies. He soother‘d and potted,  Dead 1" repeated the doctor. 3318mm!
 (A jlel' the manner of ‘ Tell me whereis fancy bl‘Od.”) And gave her a glass her own healthijust to drink; Am W“ not Doctor Gmwung?

f . . , , "is ' “You see the effect Mr. Mur h ,” said the doctor
a “ Very original! ’ said the doctor. gfig Me‘gl’figfigflcke” all” noticing‘M‘Garry’S’quefitiODB‘ you we the “fleet ‘3

,. . - Eon i Didng 1 . e recess. ’

i, 3.13:. harmed . "°“é*o‘%fi%l§om 151%“. °°°“‘°" “"‘““' reinsurance“ b. u a We

1‘. She wrote with tremblin heart and hand That if ove gives y0u am 8 us crle .e W] are a. .
‘: BTh’e'tbfliilvié shonldgnovor ’ There‘s nothing can cure it like fakir'tg to dhrinlc.’ 301330: feoaulrfsllllknEI9g K3? (11:31,, :3: dead' doctor.) 0 ’
ii 959 9 am U roarious were the “braves” which followed the “ Asa herring ” said th doctor

,. But the wave the moral washed away, d rig in, mm . u -- l e '

,, ptu the lasses overflowed and were Lord have more an moi Oh, Mr. Mu h sure
i, All. Well-1141M l well-wally! em tied to health and sgong, as laughing faces nod. I‘m not dead?” y rp y'

" A day 1 may PM” 1 do to him round the table. The doctor sat seriously “Yon’re dead, sir,” said Murphy; “the doctor has
E‘i Roddy smiled and bowed, and thunders of applause 1'00 himseu “1 his Chair backward and forward, to only filvanlzed you for a few moments."

ii followed, the doctor shouted “Splendidl” several “lee” evil-“0118 ducmngs of the beanqu faces about 0 HLord!" groaned M‘Garry. “ Doctor—indeed,
i‘ times, and continued to write and take snuff vocifer- him; 101‘ 0V9 , face l{ea-med but one—an that was the (1090”
{i Ousl ', by which those who knew him could compre- unfortunate Garry 3- He was mOStdeplombly (“111113 You are mastate of temporaryanimation,”sald the

hell he was built on mischief. and began '90 how on by the table. At last he contrive (10300?-
':. “ What a beautiful thing that isl” said one. to shave back his chair and get on his 1 s; and making 1 do feel we odd. indeed.” said the terrified man,
Ml “Whose is mu said “other, a sloping staggber toward the wall, cont ved by its sup— putting his ban to his throbbing temples. “ How
U “ A little thing of my own," answered Raddy, with a Port to Forum le his way to the door. There he bal- ong am I dead?”
smile, anced himself as well as he could b -the handle of the “ A week next Tuesday," said the Doctor. i. Gama»
“ I thought go." said Murphy. “ By Jove, James, lock, which chance, rather than desén, enabled him to ism Pas Preserved you from decomposition."
you are a, goniusi" turn, and the door suddenl open g, poor M‘Garry M Garry utteredaheavy groan, and lookedu plteous-

“Nonsensel” smiled the oet- “ ust a little classic made a rush across the Ian place. and. stumbling 1! at his “W0 “OW-10an- Murph . tearful eshock
trifle—I think the!” little clEssic'aililsiom ispleasing in against an 0 1mm doorlwould ave fallen. hiui he not might drive him out of his m d. said. “ Perhaps
gonerm_Tommy Moore is very ha, py in his classic supported mself by the lock of that also, which, again doctor you canpreserve his life altogether: you have
allusions. you may remark—not that , of course, mean yielding to his heavy '31 3i Openedi and the miserable kept, “Eve .50 10"“ u
to institute a comparison between so humble on 1nd,; wretch me. another p unge forward, his shins came ‘ I 11 try, said Grow ; hand me that tumbler."
vidum as lnyself and Tommy Moore; who has so won in contact wit the rail of a very low bed, and into it he Murphy handed him a umbler full of water, and the
been called ‘the poet of all circles, and the idol of his fen head foremost ‘30 unable to 118 and after doom? Save “to M‘Gmi 31nd defilred mm w“? and
own;‘ and if you will permit me, in a kindred spirit— some heavy grunts, he sun into aprofo slefip. drink it; ne put it to his hps and swallowed a little»
I hope I may say the kindred s irit of a son —in that In this state he was discovered soon after by urphy P311 ,,
kindred spirit I propose Ms eoith_the with of whose inventive faculty for frolic instantly suggests Can you taste it? asked the doctor.
Tommy Moore 3" how the apothecary’s misha m ht be made the foun- “ Isn’t it water?" said M‘Garry.
if . .. Deni, say Tommy/n said the doctor in an miscible dation of a good practical 10 e. urto h went down “You see how dull the nerves areyet," said Growling
" tone; “call the mail Tou,sir;-—with all my heart, Ton stairs, and Pmcumlg some Hacking an Pad mailed to M:th “th‘t’s “atom” and “gamma” and 1“
ii Moonnl" cabbage by stealth, returned to the chamber where can’t taste it' we mus give him another touch of the
l The table took the word fromgack Growing, and M‘ now lay in a state of stupor, and dragging on battery. Hold him up, While I. go into the next room.
“Tom Moore " with all the honors of ” hip and hurral" his clot es, he made 10 dubs across his back with the and immrse the plates"

, rung round 1; o walls of the village mama where is flu le juice of the pic e and Warren's paste, till poor The doctor left the bed-room, and came back with a
'1 the village in Ireland that health has not been hailed wail.” re rly striped as a tiger from his 110,? ker and some lemon-juice and water.
i}, with the fiery enthusiasm of the land whose lays he has shoulder to his flan . He then returned to the dinner- him gently round,” said he to Murphy,
1", n wedded to immortal verse'n__the land which is proud room where the drinking bout had assumed a formida- “ while I conduct the wires."
in of his birth, and holds his name in honor? his glass“ to fefffiagfiggg, $83511: uttlée apotfiecary. “£318 (initer if: fieyeditfind giving elg‘gkanvba lltouch

- '. ' in atname‘andint e B 0118- e 0 r, en roar ea u .
Thele lsa magic agre . instanc um “ t £3  ecary

mm mm as,"

 

I that of Tom Moore turned the current from where it confided to the doom? What he had one: Md 581d '" Bald GPOW ' - “ NOW try.
H} was setting, and instead of quizzing the nonsense of When 1:219 men were drunk enouzhi he would contrive can you “808 anyt and he gave the lemon-
1:1 the fool who had excited their mirth, eve one that M60"? Shoum be dlscoveredi 331d than they $1,199 Bud water.

," Munchou ioi-lli in praise of their native ba , and would take their measures accordingly- It was not Item a slight acid. doctor dear." said M‘Garry,
:5' sin leis from his favorite songs ran from lip to lip. 79 10118 before his company were 1136 611011 b for his hO‘PfullY- .

 u  «Mum .  incision was miniatures Pii’s‘i‘tfimhr
xi - . _ , , . i ' ' ee 9' 3 near
 8f.a’f,‘§,.:f‘~’3gs I know you have them aspatasyour M‘Garry. The waiter, not having an know! is on pure nitric" ' y

 

i l l. . n _ - - the subject was deired to inquire. an a search eing ' “ Oh dear!" said M‘Garry " “ is it nitric?“
u; configfiefififfiffifigogfifieg 8:33;?” docmr' Wh° sun instituted, M‘Garry was_dis_covered by llIrs. Fay in the l “Yell see his h is donning back ton." said the
it Edward, at the urgent request of many, sung that State M“ 11 had 9“ him 13- on 5591" him: She was docw’ to MW’P’IY- “ can he PW 1115 1883 nude!

1 A - - i u meet. so terrifl t at she screamed, and ran nto the dinner- ‘ him!“
It ixnlgsltilfgtlhlilss‘rtrfalig3351:2333'?hdlgllgirflgghtllgiil‘audits, room. Wfinsl her hands. and shouti "Murder." A They raised theapothecary from the bed; and when
[1‘ and rapidly circulated the bottle, at its conclusion, great commot on ensued, and a genera rush to the bed- he sta gel-ed and fell forward, he looked horrified.
i,‘ “we’ll be the gum in the sunsets my boys," said room took place and exclamations of wonder and hor- “Oh, earl I can’t walk. I’m afraid Iam—I amno
.1; Mm- hy; “and here‘s the wine to enlighten usi Bur, ror flew round t e room not only from the ntlemen more!” ,
I . who? are you about more, doctOr?_1s it a proscripuon of the dinner. It ,but from the servants of he ho “Don‘t despair," said the doctor; “ Ipledze my pro-
li you are writing?” who crowde to he chamber on the first alarm, an fesslonal reputation to save you now, since you can
.. NO. Prescriptions are written in Latin' and this is helped not a little to increase the confusion. stand at all, and our senses are Partly restored. Let
5| a bit of Greek 1 in doi . Mr. Roddy has inspired me ‘ 011! who ever see the like of it i" shouted Mrs. Fay. him lie down a M atry could he s eep—”

ill with a classic s irit, an if ou will rmit me, [‘1] vol. “He’s kilt with the batin’ he at! Oh look at him— “Sleep!” ‘ arry, with horror- “perhaps no“:
I mm, a songpvmwf min and 9:1“, on “other black and bluealloverl Oh, e murtl’ier 'lt isl 0h, 1’ toawskenl" '
,; version of the subject he has so beautifully treated_ wouldn t be Squire O’Grad for all his fort n.‘ I ll keep up the alvanic influence—don’t be afraid.

011% mine is ilot so heart-breaking.“ h h M Gigi I beneve he's 118d, sure 911011811." Bald geggfdgggnlngggyoeuméage gown. Can t on shut your
e doctor‘s reposition was received wit c eers ‘1 - v 1 0'1 0 11 em so fast.
11' and after he lid gone through the mockery of clearing “What 8 Spbndid action the widow will have!" said £38 can you keeg them shut? Don t open them till]
l ' his throat, and pitchin his voice after the usual man- 53531! H011"!- " . “ YOU-W54"? “11 cont“? two hundred and fifty. That's
l her of your WORM,” n6 singer! he ve out “the You forgot, man, said Mu by, this is notacase right—turn alittle more round—keep your eyes (as .

une of a well-known rollicking Irish ' t the following for action 0 damagesa 31;: lg. to Oily—hanging matter. that s it- one-tWO—three—four—flve—six—gven;"

l. e - not the b~ t i ; “Sureenou h" sal . “dull” went 0 maldnga lo e inter-v
in / “ewe V 1’s” 3“ 3‘” °‘ Raddy 5 “"3 “ Doctor, éou feel his pulse?” said Murphy. every number. t the monoto'ifiiurs sound} anting
5., L0 VE .4le LIQUOR. The doctor di as he was required, and assumed a closed eye of the helplessly drunken man. produced the
,l A on“ “woo”. very serious countenance. “ ’Tis a”bad business, sir— ei’fect desired by the doctor; and the heavy snoring of
 I hiojwouxtlgis are monuyimtaggargfiu a gener a1 retreat thsvbépgglfigm soon bore witntess that he sle t.

r - . n s announcemen no nece oas read
 0y, surel’ltfvczlagirnrmhfiuysw fmrgoflm bod, round which'theyhad been crowding too that Edward O'Connor nothingsuretgmdo with till:
i. Demueggvlvogg'l’y ‘gung [a (21y of own glose £5021): thila cigflyifingdoni of thzlfgflieg Md figflyozg ficefgegrfogmnken afibaurdity. No:tll(l>nghh:forteétl;o} even~
in  . ora ove o o ners “red ceilings assumed ec rate r
l, on a (1153‘) “be ‘slan ' them. to fumigate the  {I’ll-531‘ drunken bout, he had contrived to makeaflie's

. ' All lonely and silent, " A ,, .d _ . I ‘

,,  H ve ro r recaution Mrs. Fay en the doc esca . his head 0 sufficient excited to increase

‘ . lhe sobbed helfizlfuslblfi Shelli: the cowld. tor! with F St?" ble vi y. ’ fl . sen entalit ; wilyinstead oflyriding home direct Ill]:

ll 011' 0“ ohm {h the um ' ‘ That Vifinous smo e is choking me, said Jack took a roun of some e ht miles, to havea look at.
Ass e roal M q « Merryvsle, for there dwelt ann Dawson—the Dar

‘1; , _ . i Hanan.
ii, Wrapp d round hei in haste as she Jumped out of bed, “new”. that. sir, than have a pestilence in the Funny Dawson, sisterto Dick, W ose deviltry was 111%

; He was dhrawing— y rl d M F i 1
It was finer b far than a Lorifa or’s state coach, 1‘. ‘00 01956 said the (100150“ '5- 3Y1 bun! t “"133 refit 688. Edward‘s apostro hes to his mistress,
I And t ie chap that was in i “‘01 re Vinegar? 7 and wamlngfi to his horse, made :51 odd mixture ;’ and

He sung 1, Re a lumen . Fay had additional candles and morein- we would recommend ntlemen, after their second

' | And “‘1 “0‘” ‘° “l? cm" house " said Growll . than redeemed in the famil b the an ell
 Where She looked m‘e 3' ghom" “I'll leave the ping " said Jack Horan. of his love and s rtlve  For thg presec ":5 3:13:
Ill Though was M W?“ d?P“rtfidethe,vagab°n° fled “ An I, too ” said oyle. , ever, poor we. O’Connor was not allowedtoadaregs
hi gggsgggggg, “2:983,” “Aug I," said Roddy; “'tis disgusting to a sensitive gammflut his alga) 13;; as; khnew go “fitment my
' I ’ . din? ce
;_:, They’re deceivers, them square, that goes on half-pay.” uGentlememn “id Murphy, shutting the door, «you for um a cha'm There he Eat  fiesidfiilg‘fl 13:2
sl‘; u. must not ault the house. I must have an inquest on gatechlooklng up the long line of old trees through
13'; Whilst abusing the villain, thg  n . ed. glut Fthe cooltmoowht was streaming; and he fancied
in Game riding ostilion “ An nquestl they all exclaim t a h my); 00 trodden that avenue perhaps a v
{H A hate little boy on c e k of a haste, uYen—4m inquest. H _ d av;h onush lore. and even that gave him pleasure: to,
‘Z. Big enough. Mt ' to ate him, “ But there s no coroner; herei and Red 3‘". to ose W oh ove with the fond enthusiasm of Edward
 But he lather’d and hate him, N0 matter for that. sa-i MuIPhY- 1. as the O Connor, t e very vacancy where the loved one has
lo And the haste to unsate him ne‘er struggled the lute; Wider-Shem of the county. can presxde at this inquiry. been is sacred.
"' And an iligant car Gentlemen. take your laces; bring in glare lights, Mrs. The horse pawod imfifienuy to be gone and mm.”
l 1“ka Stand round the gentlemen rained him up With a c ding voice; but th'eanimal con-
i o
i
i

‘V i . h w k a. of whls besid him breach. , troduced and the drunken fellows were as bottle, not to letthemse ves be overheard in their] .
V Wit at 13nd hgiiipped “(lg and 31 an to st ht as they could, each with a candle in his hand, fit: for even as fine a fellow as Edward O‘Conngg'i V
 W. m, “i” truism 1%. we... Wu... . u. Slimming-audarimumum

" . i - . _ en‘ ' c w m o ‘ “—

or twelve tumble” o plum to who“ m colloid—fin every one in the house to ask did ey ow then to his one. u 3‘ i y finds-miliéve’

m- anythlng about the matter" and it was not lo before my Hagen—mu day 1711 ,w’h 3w" l .

l' They were dress‘dm n “WM it W“ P6811911 over the to“. W sqwéng‘amdy WWI—though se ’ ted from me, ’yofl ygilfe alw‘ay‘;

Vi Bot geem‘d rathers Vega had kl ed MGax-r , and that the coroners inquest Present to my in d: £20m bright eyes, your raven
,.

 

 

l

“I, For in,” on“, a trifle 0» leaves 1; they we". brought in averdl of murder and that the sqlilrewas r month‘s as d a: 0 vi «(one I
,l Bu, may caperid away ‘ go to be sent to all. ' ‘ -0h, annyl if fate be ever lgpihggus—shoyu'llé 
 Like the wee s on Mayday, '1‘ almost inc ible hulnbug of MW s had one blessed with the divine possessl’on of your charms you
" mwwuonodthetum ersgajom afornearlyhaifsnboar,whenthe mining inrhonldaunmw-whetadmwmlflougfim
 . ..,.

i

l?

.. .. nmw....-~_...  “9....

wim.«.w ~....a‘ . .m~ (m...

 

.. d august.» mm? vs... . .h ...,.

 

1 lab, Misther Doyle. Sure you don

, m..- ....u.,...., ‘ “WWW.-- - ... .
m .

No.9.

I Handy Andy. N

then know the tendci'est <‘.!.i‘(‘. l‘ll guard you, caress ! "SH!~YOH mustbo aware that vour net of yesterdu has

you, fondle ytillw'I’U [1'2/1‘1/ my whim «2”, you, yrm devil/w
t’lh, Funny! beloved ()llt‘i—fill‘t’wl‘“ «good-nightfiii thou-
?limil blessinirs on youl—mul now (/0 and bra ham/ed (o
.mu / " said he, bitterly, putting his spurs to his horse
Lllld galloping homc. __ 

When the doctor WilH satisfied that. M‘Gui‘i‘v was fast
asleep, lie and Murphy left the room. and ticked the
door. They were rncountemi on the lobby by :cvernl
curious people. who wanted to know, ” was the mun
tloutl‘r" The doctor shook his lieiul very gravely, and
Itiid “ Not t]uite;” while Murphy, with a serious nod,
: uid, “ All over, I‘m afraid, llll‘rl. blow“ for liepei'ceived
amour; the lit‘l‘sihllfi onllm lobby it servnntof()‘(il‘nily‘s,
.i'lio chanced to he in the town, iilltl wusull wonder and
fright at the news of his muster liavn’ig committed
'ruirdcr. Murphy and the doctor proceeded to the din-
ner-room, where they lfouud the ( runkeii mcn wrang-
ling about what verdict. they should brng in, and a
discursive dispute touching on “murder,” and “man-
slaughter,” and “accidental death," and “ the visits-
biOllUf tired,“ mingled with noisy toast»: and flowing
cups, until illly sngmjty the company ever possessed
was sacrificed to the rosy god.

The lateness of the hour, und the suite of the coin—
hany, rendered riding home impossible to most of them;
“.0 Mrs..lt‘ny was called upon to prepare beds. The. inn
did not nli’ord a sufficiency of beds to accommodate
every gentleman with a single one, so it tl'lHS-llp was re-
sorted to, to decide who should sleep double. The for-
tune of war cost the unfortunate James Roddy upon
the doctor. who, though one of the few who were capa-
ble of self-pinitx-t-tion, preferred remuininp,r at the inn to
riding home some miles. New Jumcs Redd ', thou li
very drunk indeed, had sense enough left to islike t. 8
lot. that into had oust him. To sleep with such a
‘ilOVt‘llly man as the doctor shocked James, who was a.
hit of a dandy. T he (lUL'UIl‘ seemed perfectly contented
with the arrangement ; and us he bade Murphy “good-
night,” a lurkingdevilmont hung about his huge mouth.
.\ll the men staggered ml, or were supported, to their
various beds, but one—and he could not stir from the
lloor, where he lay hugging the leg of the table. .To
every cflort to disturb him he replied with an impluring
mum, to “ let him ulonc," and lie hugged the leg of‘thc
.cble closer, cxclaiming, “Iwon't leave you, Mrs. Buy!
«my darling Mrs. Fay! rowl your arms around me,
llrs. Fa !’

“ Ah, get up and go to bed, Mlsthcr Doyle," said Tim.
“ Sure the inisthi‘css is not here at all."

“ I know she’s not," said Doyle. “ Who says a word
.iguinst her?” . . H

" Sure you‘re talking to her yourscli, sn'.

‘ Pooh, pooh, man !—-you‘ro dhrunk. . ' l

“ Ah come to bed, Mistlicr Doyle," said Tun, in an
lmplol‘nl tone. “ Och sure, mylicart’s broke with you.”

‘ Don’ say 'our heart‘s broke, my sweet landlady
-—m darling Irs. Fay! the apple of my eye you are. ’

” onscnsc, lilistlier Doylc.’

“True as the sun, moon, and stars. Apple of my
eye, did I say i—I‘d giwi the apples of my (iiycs to make
sure for the cookies of your mart. Mrs. la , darling
vton’tbeeoy. Hail I have you fast!” and lie gripped
.hc table closer.

“ Well. you are dhrunk, lilisther Doyle," said Tim.

“I hope my breath is not offensive from drink Mrs.
I‘ay,” suid Doyle, in an amutory whisper to the leg of
the table.

‘* Ali, get out 0’ that, Misthcr Doyle,” said Tim, ac-
oompanying the exclamation with a. good shake, which
loincwliut roused the prostrate form.

“ Who's there?" .

“ I want you to come to bed, ski—«ah, don’t be so fool-

t think the Misthress
would be rowlin’ on the tiurc there wid you, as dlu-unk
.13 a i —"

“Dag: not wound her fame! Who says a. word of
Mrs. Fay?" _ , .

“Arruh, sure you’re talkin’ there about her this half—
:iour.

“False villain! Whist, my darling,“ said he to_ the
‘cg of the table; “ I'll never betray you. Hug me tight,
Mrs. Fay!”

“ Bud luck to the. care I‘ll take any more about on "
said Tim. “ Sleep on the dime, if you like." And oyle
.vus left to pass t 9 night in the soft. imaginary delig its
if Mrs. F. y‘s mahogany embraces.

How fared it with Jmcs Ready? Alas! poor James
.ms doomed to a night of torment, the effects of which
‘16 remem bercd for many days after. In fact, had James
.ieen lcf t to his choice, he would rather have sle t with
:hellouse-dog than with the doctor; but he readed
the consequences of lettin old Jack perceive his an-
tipathy; and visions of future chastisement from the
doctor’s satirical tongue awed him into submission to
the present punishment. He sneaked into bed, there-
fore, and his deep potations insured him immediate
:lcep from which he awoke, however, iii the middle of
the m ht. in torture, from the deep scratches inflicted
Upon ‘ by every kick of old Growling. At last poor
Roddy could stand it no longer, and the earliest hour of
viawn revealed him to the doct0r putting on his clothes,
swearing like a trooper at one moment, and at the next
:ipostropliizin the genius of gentiiity. “What it is to
have to do wit a person that is not a gentleman!" he
exclaimed, as he pulled on one. leg of his trowsers.
th“ Evan is the matter with you?” asked old Jack from

o e .

“ The matter, sir, is that I'm going.” ‘
~ “Is it at this hour! Tut, man, don’t be a. fool. Get
:nto bed again." .

“Never, sir With you at least; I have seldom slept
two in a bed, br. Growling, for my gentleman] habits
forbid it; but when circumstances have oblige me, it
has been With gentlemen—gentlemen, doctor," and he
laid a stress on the word—“ gentlemen sir, who cut
their toe-nails. Sir, lama serious sufferer by our
course habits; you have scratched me, sir, near to
death. I am oncgore of bloodf" t

“ Tut, maul time not my nmls that scratched you; it
was only my spurs I put on gomg taped, to kee you
at 'a. distance from me; you were so disgustingly nk
my gentleman l—iook there 1” and he poked 3 leg out
of bed, and there, sure encugh, . dy saw n 3 ur
buckled; and dumb-foundered at this evidence of a
doctor's atrocity, he snatched up his clothes and rushed
from the room, as from the den of a bear.‘
hMu hy twisted a beneficial result to M Garry out of
‘ e
mom ‘ tak‘ advanta e of the re ' 011: of the in nest
ut-iiiclingé 1mg? must hive reachec Neck-or-Not .ing
flail. he made a. communicatiOn to Q’Grady, so equivo-
caliy worded that the Squire fell into the trap. The
note ran as follows: *

ht’s riotous frolic at his expense; for in the-

 

l't’lleli‘d a strong feeling in the couiitry against you, out that
so tlug'ruiit a violation of the lows cannot fail to be visited
with terrible sovcrit upon you ; for, though your position !
in rank places you ar above the condition of the llnfor- ‘
tunutc man on whom you wrcukod your vengeance, you
know sir. thiit in the eye of the law on are equal, and tho l
shield of justice protects the lesson .ns well “H the rlnec. .
Under those circumstances, s r, considering the aw ui con- ‘
sequences of your unizovei'ned rage (which, I doubt not, 1
now you deplore), I would suggest to you by u timely offer
of compromise, in the shape of u handsome sum ot’ money
——suy two hundred pounds—to lull the storms which must l
otherwise burst on your devoted head, and save your
Home from dishonor. l anxiously await your answer, as
proceedings must instantly commence, and the law take
its course, unless Mrs. M‘Gurry can be pncltled.
“ l have the honor to bc, sir,
“ Your most obedient servant.
“Mini'rouaii MURPHY.

“ To Gustavus (irnuby O‘Grady Esq”

Neck-or-hothlng Hull."

O’Grady was thoroughly frightened; and strange as
it may appear, did believe he could com iromiso for
killing only a plebeiun; and actually sent. Inrpliy his
note of hand for the sum demanded. Murtou h posted
off to M‘Gurry; he and his wife received iim with
shouts of indignation and hen icd rcproaches on his
head, for the trick he had playe on the npothccary.

“ Oh! Misthcr Mur )liy-wnevcr look me in the face
again!“ said Mrs. M‘ ‘urry, who was ugly enough to
make the request quite unnecessary; “to send my bus-
band home to me a beast l"

“ Striped like a. t' er!" said M‘Gari‘y.

“ Blackii r and B ckled cabba e, Misther Murphy!“
said the wi c. “ 0 tie. sirl~l at not think you could
be so low." . .

“ Galvanisml" said M‘Garry, furiously. “ My profes~
sional honor wounded l"

“ Winslit, whislit, man!" said Murphy; “ there's a.
finer pinister than any in our shop for the cure of
wounded honor. Look at hat!"—aud he handed him
the note for two hundred; “ there’s gulvnnism for you !"

“ What. is this Y” said M‘Garry in mnazement.

“ The result of last night‘s inquest," said Murphy.
“ You have got your damages without a. trial; so pocket
your mone , and be than ul.“

The two undrcd pounds at once changed the aspect
of affairs. M‘Garry vowed eternal gratitude, with 11-0-
testations that Murph was the cleverest attorney ive,
and ought to be chie justice. The wife was equally
vociferous in her acknowledgments, until Murtough,
who, when he entered the house, was near falling a
sacrifice to the claws of the u. theca ’3 wife, was
oblifit’id to rush from the premises to s iun the more
tcrr 1c consequences of her embraces.

 

CHAPTER VI.

Wm have sat so long at our dinner, that we have al-
most lost sight of poor Andy, to whom we must now re-
turn. When he ran to his mother‘s cabin. to esca e
from the fangs of Dick Dawson, there was no one wit -
in: his mother being dig ing‘a few plotatbes for supper
from the little ridge be nd her once, and Oonah
Riley, her niece—an o han girl who lived with her-—
being up to uire Egan s to sell some 6 gs; for round
the poorest ca ins in Ireland you scarce ever fail to
see some ragged hens, whose eggs are never consumed
by their pro rictors, exce t, perhaps, on Easter Sun—
day, but sol to the neig boring gentry at a trifling

rice.
D‘ And cared not who was out, or who was in, rovided
he con d only escape from Dick: so without any

uestions, he craw ed under the wretched bed 11 the

ark corner where his mother and Conch slept. and
where the ttcr, through the blessed influence of
health, youth, and an innocent heart, had brighter
dreams than attended many a couch whose downy
pillows and silken hangings would more than purchase
he fee-simple 01’ any cub n in Irelsnd. There Andy, in
a state of utter exhaustion from his fears. his race, and
his thrashing, soon fell aslee , and the terrors of Dick
tile ngii gave place to the b cssing of the profoundest
s um er.

Quite unconscious of the presence of her darling
Andy was the widow Rooney as she returned from the
potato ridge into her cabin; deposmug a arc/01K; of the
newly dug esculent at the door, and replucmg a spade
in its own corner of the cabin. At the same moment
Oonah returned, after disposing of_ her as s, and
handed the three pence she had received for him to
her aunt, who dropped them into the deep pocket of
blue striped tick which hung at her side:

“ Take the pail, Oonah, ma chree, and run to the well
for some wather to wash the prutees, while I get the
pot read ' for billn’ them; it wants scouriu’ for the pig.
was atin his dinner out iv it, the craythur!’

Off went Oonnh with her pailhwhich she soontfllled
from the clear spring; and placmg the vessel on her
head, walked back to the cabin with that beautiful
erect form, free ste , and graceful swaying of the fl -
urc, so eculiar to t e women of Ireland andthe Ens
from t eir habit of carrying weights upon the head.
The otatoes were soon washed; and as they got their
last ash of water in the skwugiz, whose open wicker-
work let the moisture drain from them, 11 came Larry
Hogan, who, be what is pulled a. l ‘ civil-spoken
man " addressed . Rooney in the following agreea-
ble manner:— I ’

“.Ther‘i’i’s putty pratees, Mrs. Rooney; God save you,
ma. am!

“ ‘Deed an’ they are-thank you kindly, Mr. Hogan;
God save on and yours too! And how would the
woman that, owns you be?”

“ Hearty, thank you.”

“ Will ou step in?” w

“No, in obieeged to you-I must beaff home wid
me; but I’ll just get a coal for my’pipe, for it wint out
on me awile a. one with the fright.

“Well, I’ve eer’dquare things, WHO " said
Ooncli laughing and showing her white tact ; ‘but I
never heer d so quare a. thing as a Pipe 80in” out with
the fright." ,

“ Oh, how sharp you are l—takin one up store they’re
down.’ .
:2 %Olilaf§lie they‘rl’re down, Laelr‘g'ogr mu said it."

e ' was own, you W n me; so you
are down, too, you see. Ha, 114! And aftherall now,
Oonah, a. pig is like a Christian in many ways: sure
its madeo c ylikea, Christian and has the s k 0'
lifcin it, and while the breath it in it the s ark s alive;
but when the breath is outpf it the 3 fl: ‘es, and then
it grows cowld like 9. Christian; an isn’t it: a pleasant
com union like a. _ Ian? '

. “ six, some Christians isn’t pleasant companions at
all!" chimed in Mrs. Boone , sententiousiy

 

“ wen, but they oughtto  said Lam-y, “ and isn‘t!

, ., .i
r i

9

a pipe sometimes crooked like (L Christian, and isn‘t it
sometimes choked like u. t‘lwlstiun?“

“Oh, choke you and your pipe, together, Lorry! will
you never have done?" said the widow.

“The most iinwoviuist thing in the world is
smokin’," Hitid liirrv who had new rclit his
pipe and squatted lums-cll’ on a. three-leg ed
stool beside the widow’s fire. “The most m

proviiist in the world “-(pau:_:h!) r :nul u parenthetical
whiff of tobacco-smolm curled out of the corner of
Larry‘s mouthw‘ds smokin’: for the cmoke shows
you, as it were, the life 0' mun p:t.»'slu‘ ii uy like u pul’i'
~Spuurlil)~—just like that; and the tibnky turns to
us ics iko his poor perishable body; tar, as the song
says-—

 

” ‘Tibzlkky is nn Indian word,
Alive ut morn and dead at eve;
It lives but an hour
is cut; down like a flower.
Think 0’ this when you‘ri- smoking tibn-ukkyl’ " ‘

And Larry sung the ditty its he crammed some of tin,
weed into the bowl of his pipe with his little finger.
“Whv, you’re as good as u summit this evenin‘,
Larry," said the widow, its silo lifted the iron pot on
them-c.
“There’s worse surmints nor that,l can tell you,”
rejoined Larry, who took up the old song again—-

“ ‘ A pi c it. l'nrnu us all this thing——
’Tis uii' without. and foul within,
Just like u sowl hegrim'd with sin.
Think 0‘ this when you‘re smoking tiba‘ukky l’ " .

Larry pufl'cd awn silently l’or ii. few minutes, and
when Oonah liud p need it lfcw sods of turf round the
pot in an upright. position. that the Home might curl
upward round them, and so hasten the boiling, she
drew a. stool near the tire, and asked Larry to cxphun
about the fright.

“ Wh , I was coming up h the Cl’OSS‘I‘Ofld there,
when w at should I see but. a g iost—-”

“A ghost ! l l “ cxclnimed the widow and (lunch,
with sup resscd voices and distended mouth and e es.

“ To a appearance," said. Larry; " but it was 0 a
thi was stuck in the hedge to trekcn whoever was
passm‘ by and as I kein u to it; there was it 'oun, so I
started, and looked at i‘ for a mind, or I; ereaway;
but I seen what it was, and thrown a stone at it, for
fear I'd be mistaken: and I been“ titlici‘in’ inside the
hedge, and then I knew ’twus only dovilineut of some
one. ’

“ And what was it?” asked Oonali.

“ ‘Twus a horse‘s licad‘ iii throtli, with an owld baton
the top of it, and two buckbriers stuck out at each
side, and some rugs hanging: on them, and an owld
breeclics sliukiu‘ under the head; ’twus just altogether
like u long pnle-fuced man, \\ itli hiin shoulders and no
bod , and very long arms and short legs:-—-fa.ith, it
trig teiied me at. first.” .

“ And no Wondhci‘,” said Oounh. " Dear, but I think
I'd lose my life if I seen the. like!”

“But sure,” said the widow, “wouldn't you know
that ghosts never appears by day Y"

“ Ay, but I hadn't time to think 0’ that, bcln’ taken
short wid the fright—anon: be token, ‘twas the place
the niurdhci' happened in long ago."

“Sure ciiougli,"suid the widow. “God bctiine us
and harm l“ and she marked licisclf Wth the Sign of
the cross as she spoke; “and a. terrible murdiicr it
w ” added site. _ _

“ low was i t" inqunwl Oounli, drawmg her seat
closer to her aunt and Larry.

“ "I‘was a schoolmaster, door that was tound dead
on the road one inornin' with his head full of fractions,"
said the widow.

“ All in jommetliry,“ said Larry. ‘

"‘And some said he full 011’ the horse," said tho
Widow. ~ .

“ And more. so. tho horse fell on him “ said Larry.

'“A_.lld a uni, L ierc was some said the horse kicked
lum 1n the ieud," said the widow.

“ And there was talk of shoe-aside," said Larry.

“ The horse‘s slice; was it? " asked Omiali. \

“No, alumni," said Larry; “shoe-aside is Latin for
cutting your throat.”

“ But he didn‘t. cut his throat," said the widow.

“ But sure it‘s all one whether he done it wid u razliir
on his throat, ora hummer on his head; it’s shwaside
all the same." . .

"But there was no hummer found, was theref"s&id
the widow. _ ,

f‘ No " said Larry, “ but some. people tho ht he
might have hid the hammer aftlicr he done it, otake
off the disgrace of tho shoe—aside." -

“ But wasn’t there any life in him. when 1,16 W35

found?" t
“ Not a taste. The crownor’s :lu 1sloth on himkfind lie
- e was vs 9

never said a word ng‘in‘ it, an

would.” I
2‘ And didn‘t they find anything at all?" sold 0011811.
“ Nothing but the vurdict,” said Lar .
‘And was that what. killed him i“ sat Oonah.

.“No, my dear: ‘twas the crack in the head that
killed him, however he kcm by it; but the val-dict o‘ the
crowncr was, that it was done, and that some one did
it, and that they wor bluckguards whoever the wor,
and persons unknown; and sure if the war on ‘nown
then, they’d alwu. s stay sw, tor wliod “know them
afther doing the l or" ‘

“ Thrue for you, Larry," said the widow; "but what
was that to the murdher over at the green hills be-

t9”

“Oh! that was the tel t-iblest. niurdher ever was in
the place, or nigh it; tii'dt was the murdher in earn-
est !’

With that eagerness which always attends the rela-
tion of horrible stories Larry and the old woman raked

up every murder and robbery that had occurred within I

their recollection, \iiiilo Oonah listened with mixed
curiosity and fear. The boiling over of the pot in.
ion recaliedK them to a. sense of the busuioss that
o ttobeattendecl tout the moment and Lar _wa.s
in ted to take shore of the potatoes. This he do ed:
declaring, as he done some time previou , that he
must L‘be off home.” 9nd to the door he wen acco ~
lug ; but as the evening had closed into the darkness
of t e nfight. he mused on opening it with a. sensation
hswoul not have liked to own. The fact: was that,
sfterthe discussi0n of numerous ni htiy murdem,’he
would rather have had daylight on e outside of the
cabin; for the horrid stories that had been revived
around the blazing hearth were not the bestglrepara-
tion for 30mg alonely road on a dark night. t so be

t 111 ye badly broken is said blme MS]! 066.
antry o be u “§¥>mmetlu-v.” _

 

 

 

'10

. .. . . ,mm .V .....—...._......._.n..... n.................. .... .,.

The New York 

 

 

 

should, and go he did; and it is not improbable that the
widow from s nipathy, had a notion why Larry paused
upon the three iold; for the moment he had crossed it

and that they had exchanged their “Good-night, and
God-speed you," the door was rapidly closed and bolted

The Widow returned to the fireside and was silent, while
Oonnh looked by the light of a. candle into the boiling
pot, to ascertain if the otatoes were yet done, and
cast a fearful glance up t e Wide chimney as she with-
drew from the inspection.

“ I wish Lnrry did not tell us such horrid stories."
said she, as she laid the ruslilight on the table; “ I’ll be
(llii'amin’ all night 0' them."

“ ’Dced an’ that’s tlii'uc,” said the widow; “ Iwish he
hadn’t."

“ Sure you was as bad yourself ” said Oonuh.

“ Troth, an” I b‘licve I was, chi d, and I’m sorry for it
now; but let us ate our supper, and go to bed, in God's
name.

“I’m afeared o‘ my life to go to bed!" said Oonuh.
“ Wishu! but I‘d give the world it was mornin’."

“Ate your supper, child ate your supper," said her
aunt, givin the example, w lab was followed by Oonah '
and aftert e light meal their prayers were sai , an
oerchance with a little extra devotion, from their ecu-

‘ar state of mind; then to bed they went. The rush-
!ight being extinguished, the only light remaining was
that shed from the red embers of the decaying fire,
which cast so uncertain a glimmer Within the cabin
that its eifect was almost worse than utter darkness to
a timid person; for any object within its range assumed
flfOl’lll unlike its own, and presented some fantastic
image to the eye; and as Oonah, contra: to her usual
habit, could not fall asleep the momen she went to
bed, she could not resist peering forth from under the
bed-clothes thrfmgli the uncertain gloom, in a painful
state of watchfulness, which became gradually relaxed
into an uneasy sleep.

The night was about half spent when Andy begun to
awake; and as he stretched his arms, and rolled his
whole body round, he struck the bottom of the bed
above him in the action and woke his nbther. “Dear
me," thought the widow, “ I can’t sleep at all to-night."
Andy gave another turn soon after, which roused
Oonah. She started, and shakin'v her aunt, asked her,
in a. low voice, if it was she who kicked her, though she
scarcely hoped an answer in the affirmative, and yet

,dared not believe what her fears whispered.

“ No a cushion," whispered the aunt.

“ Di you feel anything?" asked Oonall, trembling
violently.

“ What do you mane, alalma?” said the aunt.

Andy gave another roll. “ There it is again i" gasped
Oonab; and in a whisper, scarcely above her breath,
she added, “ Aunt—there’s some one under the bed l”

The aunt did not answer; but the two women drew
closer together and held each other in their arms, as if
their Eroximity afforded protection. Thus they lay in
brcat less fear for some minutes while Andy began to
be influenced by a. vision, in which the duel, and the
chase, and the thrashing were all enacted over again,
nnd soon an odd word begun to escape from the dream.
“ Gi’ me the pist’l, Dick—the pist’l!’

“There are two of them!" Whis cred Oonah. “God
he merciful to us! Do you hear im asking for the
pistol?"

“Screech!” said her aunt.

“ I can’t,” said Oonuh. .

And was uiet for some time, while the women
scarce y breat ed.

“Suppose we get up, and make for the door?" said
the sun .

‘_‘ I wouldu’ put my foot out of the bed forthe world,”
said Oonah. ‘ I’m afearcd one 0‘ them will catch me
by the le .”

“ How d him! howld him!” grumbled Andy.

“ I‘ll die with the fright, aunt! I feel I’m dyin’l Let
us say our rayers, aunt, for were goin to be mur-
dhered i" e two women began to repeat with fervor
their aces and [lam-nosters, while at this immediate
glucture, And "3 dream having borne him to the dirty

‘tch where D ck Dawson had pommeled him; he be an
to vociferate, “Murder, murder!” so fiercely that he
women screamed together in an agony of terror, and
“Murder, murder!” was shouted b the whole party;
for, once the widow and Oonah ound their voices,
they made good use of then]. The noise awoke Andy,
who had, be it remembered, a. tolerably long sleep by
this time: and be having quite forgotten where he had
lain down, and finding himself confined by the bed
above him, and smothering for want of air, With the
fierce shouts of murder iingiiig in his ear, woke in
as great a. fright as the women in the bed, and became
I. party in the terror he himself had roduced: every

lunge he gave under the bed inflic ed a poke or a.

ck on his inotlicr and cousm, which was answered by
the cry of “Murder i"

“Let me out—let me out Misther Dick 1” roared
And . “ Where am I at 8.11? Let me out!"

“ elp! help! murdhcr!" roared the women.

“ I’ll never shoot any one again, Misther Dick—let me
u I" ‘

I:i'kndy scrambled from under the bed, half awake, and
wholly frightened by the darkness and the noise, which
was now increased by the barklllfi 0f the cur—dog.

“Hie at him, Couly!” roared is. Rooney; howld
him! howld him!”

Now as this address was often made to the cur re-
specting the pig, when Mrs. Rooney SPmQtlmeS,W8«nted
I quiet moment in the da , and the pig didn't like quit-
ting the premises, the 0g ran to the corner of the
cabin where the pig habitually lodged; and laid hold of
his ear with the strongest testmionials of affection,
which polite attention the pig acknowledged by a pro-
longed squea ' , that drowned the vaices of the women
an Andy toget er; and now the cocks and hens that
were roosting on the rafters of the cabin were startled
by the din, and the crowin and cacklmg and the fla
38 of the frightened few 3, as they flew about in t e

r , added to the general 11 rom- and confusxon.

“A—h!" screamed Oona. , “take your hands of!
me!” as Andy, getting from under the bed, laid his
hand upon it to assist him, and caught a grip of his
cousm.

“ Who are you at all?" cried Andy, making another
claw, and catching hold of his mother‘s nese.

“Oonsh, they’re murdhering me i“ shouted the

ow. -

The name of Oonah, and the voice of hismotber re-
called his senses to Andy, who shouted, “Mot er,
mother! what’s the matter? ‘ A ‘ htened hen flew
in his face, and nearly knocked Andy own. “ Bad cess
to vou,“ cried And , ‘What did you hit me for?"

‘* "ho are you a all?” cried the widow.

'mm-t vou know me?" said Audv. -

'eq‘i‘ially well-applied box on the other.

 

“No, I don’t know you; by the vurtue o’ my oath, I 
don’t; and I'll never swear again” you, jintlemen, if you
l’uve the place and spare our lives!’

Here the hens flew against the dresser, and smash
went the plates and dishes.

“ Oh jintlemen dear, don't rack and ruin me that
way: on’t destroy alone woman.”

‘ Mother, mother, what‘s this at all? Don’t you know
your own Andi/1' i!" .

“Is it you t at’s there?" cried the widow, catching
hold of him. ,

“ To be sure it's me ” said Andy

“You won’t let us e murdhered, will you?”

“ Who‘d murdher on?"

“ Them eo Ie the ’s with you.” Smash went another

P
plate. “ 0 you hear that—they’re rackin’ my place,
the villains!’ *

“Divil a one’s wid me at all!” said And .

“I’ll take my oath there was three or our under the
bed ” said Oonah.

“ 0 one but myself," said Andy.

” Are you sure? ‘ said his mother. _

“ Coo sure,“ said Andy, and a. loud crowmg gave
evidence in favor of his assertion. _

“ The fowls is going mad “ said the Widow.

“And the ig’s distracte ,” said Oonafi. .

“No won er! the do ‘s murdherin’ him,” said Andy.

“Get up and l ht t e rushlight, Oonah,” said the
widow: “you’ll ge a spark out o the turf cendhers.”

“ Some 0’ them will catch me, maybe,” said Oonah.

“ Get up, I tell you!” said the widow.

Oonah now arose, and groped her way to the fire-
place, where, b dint of blowing upon the embers and
poking the rush ight among the turf ashes, a light was
at le h obtained. She then returned to the bed, and
threw er petticoat over her shoulders. _

"What‘s this at all!" said the widow, rismg and
wra ping a. blanket round her.

“ ad cess to the know I knowil’ said Andy.

“ Look under the bed, Oonah,” said the aunt.

Oonah obeyed, and screamed, and ran behind Andy
“ There’s another here yet!" said she.

Andy seized the poker, and, standing on the defensive
desired the villain to come out. The demand was not
com lied with.

“ here’s nobody there," said Andy. _

“I’ll take no oath there is,” saidOonab; “a. dirty
blackguard wi hout any clothes on him." .

“ Come out, on robber!” said Andy, making a lunge
under the truc e.

A grunt ensued, and out rushed the pig, who had es-
cape? from the dog, thetdo liaving gigcozeaeg a. greg-
‘eir-‘a .racioninsome a. a was oce rom e

esser which the widow intended for the dipping of
rushes in, but the dog being enlightened to his own in-
terest without rushlights, and preferring mutton fat to
pig’s ear, had suffered the grunter to go at large, while

e was captivated by the fat. The cllnk of a. three-
legged stool the widow seized to the rescue was a.
stron er argument alnst the do than he was pre
are to answer, an a remnant 0 fat was preserved
row the rapacious Coaly.

“ Where's the rest 0’ the robbers?” said Oonah.
“ There’s three 0' them, I know." ‘

“You’re dhramin’," said Andy. “ Din a robber is
here but myself."

“ And what brou lit you here?” said his mother.

“I was afeared t ey’d murdher me i” said Andy.

“ Murdber!" excla med the widow and Oonah to-
gether, still startled by the very sound of the word.

‘ Who do you maneij’

“ Misther Dic " said Andy.

“ Aunt, I tell you,” said Oonuh, “ this is some more of
And ’s blunders. Sure Misther Dawson wouldn’t be
goin to murdher any one; let us look round the cabin
and find out who‘s in it, for I won’t be aisy ontil I look
into every corner to see there's no robbers in the place,
{3321’ tell you again, there was three 0’ them undher the

The search Was made and the widow and Oonah were
at length satisfied that there were no midnight assassins
there with long knives to cut their throats, and! then
they began to thank God that their lives were safe,

“ But, oh! look at‘ my chaynee,” said the .WldOW,
clastping her hands, and casting a look of despair at the
she tered delf that lay around her; “look at my
chaynee i” ”

“ And what was it bro ht you here? said Oonah,
facing round on Andvai a dangerous look, rather,
in her bright eye. “ ill you tell us than—what was it?‘

“ I came to save in life I tell you," said Andy.

“To put us in re of ours, on mane " said
Oonah. “ Just look at the amale ‘9 are," said She '90
her aunt, “ standin‘ with mouth open. Just as if
nothin: happened, and he er frightening the lives out
of us.’

“ True for on, alum,” said her aunt.

“ And we (1 no lace serve on. indeed. but undher
our bed on vaga us?" said 5 mother, mused to a
sense’of {is delinquean “ 119 come in like 8' memdin’
villain, as you are, and do under the bed and frighten
the lives out of us, and rack and rum mdyglace!

" ’Twas Misther Dick, I tell 011, PdY- I

“ Bad scram to you, you  ucky hangin bone thief!"
cried the widow, seizing him by the hair. and vmg
him a. heart cuff on the ear, which would have
knocked him own, only that Oonah kepthim up by an

Would you murdher me i" shouted Andy, as he saw
his mother lay hold of the broom. _

“ Aren’t you either frighteiun the lives out" of us,

you dirty, good-fonnot , mischief—m ._
On poured the torrent 0 abuse, rende more im.
ressive b a whack at every word. Andy roared, and
{he more e roared the more did Oonab and his mother
thrash him.

_——-

CHAP'I‘ER VII.

“murmurs 23.12%?ch
" For Love is Heaven, and Heaven is Love—"p
use self-sex. .21;
a:  serpentine“; °’ some
his is said

uite as succe . without the smallest
qlntoution 01f,0 the ’ word maiggmtkgagle
manner vein its ures p , n-
ning on the of gemns least interested in the

question; for is it not a sin when the folly or caprice,

or selfishness of a third party or fourth makes a trio or
uartette of that. which nature undoubtedly intended
or a. duet, and so spoiis it?

 

Fathers. mothers. sisters. brothers. uncles. aunts—

qu. I.

ay,’and even cousinswsometimes ut in their car to
disturb that stream which is troub ed enough Without
their interference, and, as the Bard of Avon says,
“ Never did run smooth."

And so it was in the case of Funny Dawson and Ed-
ward O‘Connor. A piece of innocent fun on the part
of her brother, and blind Fertinacity—indced, down-
right absurdity—on her fa her’s side, interru ted the
in rcourse of affection which had subsist silenin
for many a long day between the lovers, but was
acknowledged at last, with delight to the two whom it
most concerned, and satisfaction to all who knew oi
held them dear Yet the harmony of this sweet mu
cordance of s irits was marred by youthful frolic and
doting absur ity. This welding together of hearts in
the purest fire of nature’s own contriving was bl'okm]
at a. blow by a weak old man. It is too much to call
this a rm! Less mischievous things are branded wi‘ h
the name in the commonplace parlance of the world.
The cold and phle atic may not understand this: but
they who can ove now how bitterly ever afterliom
of life may be poisoned with the taint w ichhapless
love has infused into the current of future ears, und
can believe how many a heart equalto the ma est entr ~
prise has been palsied by the touch of desp in Sweet
and ho! is the duty of child to parent; but sacred
alsois t e obligation of those who govern in so he!
lowed a. position. Their rule should be ided by jns
tice; they should pray for judgment in t ieir mastery

Fanny Dawson‘s father was an odd sort of person.
His {ancestors were settlers in Ireland of the time of
William. the Third, and having won their lands by the
sword, it is. quite natural the love of arms should have
been hereditary in the family Mr. Dawson, thereforc,
had served many years as a soldier and was a. bi of n
mgrtinet, not only in military but all other affair . His
mind was of so tenwious a. character, that an im res-
sion once received there became indelible; and i the
Major once made up his mind, or indul d the belief,
that such and such thin s were so an so, the waters
of truth could never was out the mistake—stubborn
ness had written them there with her own indelible
marking-ink.

Now, one of the old gentleman‘s weak points was a.
museum of the most heterogeneous nature, consisting
of odds and ends from all parts of the world, and ap-

ertaining to all subjects. Nothin was too highor

00 low; a bronze helmet from the p sins of Marathon,
which, to the classic eye of an artist, conveyed the
idea of a Minerva’s head beneath it, would not have
been more rized by the Major than a. cavalry cap with
some bulle -mark of which he could tell an anecdote. A
certain skin of a. tiger he prized muchhbecause the
animal had dined on his dearest friend in one of the
jungles of Bengal; also a pistol which he vouched for
as bei the one with which Hatfield fired at George
the Third; the hammer with which Crowley (of Hos-
sian-boot 111811101?) murdered his farmly; the string
which was on V otti’s violii. when he played before
een Charlotte' the horn which was wppoaud to be in
t e lantern of duy Fawkes; a small piece of the coat
worn by the Prince of Qrange on his landin in Eng-
land; and other such relics. But far above t ese the
Manor prized the skeleton ofa. horse’s head which
occupied the princi al lace in his museum. This he
declared to be pa of t e identical horse which bore
Duke Schomberg when he crossed the Boyne, in the
celebrated battle so called; and with whimsical ingen-
uity, he had contrived to string somevwires upon the
bony fabric, which yielded a. sort of hurdy-gurdy vi-
bration to the strings when touched; and the Major‘s
most favorite feet was to lay the tune of the Boynu
Water on the head of Du e Schomber ’8 horse. In
short, his collection was composed o trifles from
north, south, east and west; some leaf from the ro-
digal verdure of India, or gprgeous shell from the ac!-
flc, or paw of bear, or toot of walrus- but beyond all
teeth, one pre-eminently was valued—it was one of his
own, which he had lost the use of by a. wound in the
flaw, received in action; and no one .ever entered his
cues and escaped without hearing all about it, from
the first shot fired in the affair by the skirmishers, to
the last charge of the victorious cavalry. The tooth was
alwa 5 reduced along with the story, together with
the so ration, that every dentist who ever saw it
rotested it was the largest human tooth ever seen
0W some little spam? was not unfrequent between
old Mr. Dawson and dward, on the snbg‘ect of their
res ,ectlve museums; the old gentleman‘ pooh-pooh-
ing Edwards “rotten, rusty rubbish,” as he called
it, and Edward defending, as gently as he could. his
Patriotic partiahty for nature antiquities. This little
war never led to evil results; for Edward not only
loved Fanny too we , but respected age too much ta
lean hard on the old gentleman’s weakness, or seek tc
reduce his fancied sugedorit as a: collector: but the
tooth, the ill-omened oth a last gnawed asunder the
bond of friendship and a ection which had subsisted
between the two mines for so many years

The Major bad aded his tooth so often, that Dick
Dawson began to e of it, and for the purpose of rank

it a. source of amusement to himself, he stole his
fa. her‘s keys, one day, and opening the cabinet in
which his 00th was enshrined, he abstrach the
grinder which _nature had bestowed on the Major, and
substituted in its stead a horse's tooth of no contem f
ible dunenswns. A party some days after dined With
the old gentleman, and after dinner the story of the
skirmish turned up, as a matter of course, and the
enorrifigixilstsize 01f) tare torilth wgutgd 1111].) the tedious tale

‘a’youeersowi te ‘-"' -.
nurseries m’ “d

e en, ' said - 5‘
“afflugiosity'n . the Manor, for it really
me o for it sir ” ' ' '

wtgpllqd be “Erased. 1 , Sud Dick, well knowmg he

0, no. answered his father, ' ‘ - “I never M
anyhow 0 to my pet cabinet but in self;" and so sav»
mg 6 18 the room, _and roceeded his museum. I!
has been already said, t t the,Major’s mind was at
that character, which once being satisfied of an ‘thinp
could never be convinced of the contrary: and having
for years been in the habit of dm

wing his own tooth
out of his own cabine the increased size of n
which he now extract the on,

'from it never struck him; so
he returned to the dining-room, and resented with
great_exultatlon to the company the 00th Dick had
substituted. It me be imagined how the people stared,-
when an 0 en leman, and moreover a major, de-

‘honor that a. great horse's tooth was
own; but having done so, politeness forbade they
should contradict him, more particularly at' the head
of his own table, so the smothered their smiles as well
asthey could, and decle !t_was the most wonderful

 

 

Itooth they ever beheld' and instead of attemptimr-tr

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“an .

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\lo. 

   

1nestion the fact, llli ' ' ‘
if admiration and si prise, and the table, instead iii

'iciui: questioned, w ‘ l'ci-oii'i‘d with \vi-li'iuiic, and

nude fowl for inirlih. 'l‘lli‘ dil‘liuulty was not to laugh; ,
.iiid iii the midst iil‘ twisted mouths, alfected sneezing, i
'indapplicatioiisol' iii)l‘kl‘l-llitl|lll{('l'0hlel'3'liO rebellious,
i .tlthlllllllilmls, Dick, tlii- iiiiiker of thc Joke, sat_iin- i
‘iOVCd, sipping his (filli'L‘l'i with a scrciiity which might ‘
hive roused the envy of a lied lndiall. ~ . ‘ |

“I think that‘s some! hint: like u. tooth! ’ said Dick. l

“ l’rodigious A-Wlllllll‘l'l'ul»—lvl‘(*lu0ndUHSl“ ran round ’

he board. 1

" (livo it to iiii- again,“ said one.

" l.i-t iiii- look at. it olr-i- more," said another. I

“ ( 'nlossal !" l‘Xl‘lIllllll‘ll a third. I ,

“lilgaiiticl” shouted nil, us the tooth made the clr- i
rilit ol' the table. .

The Major was delighted, and never remembered his i
‘imtii to hui'c created suchasensation, and when at j
last it was returned to him, he turned it about Ill his i
uli’n hand, and cast many fond glances at the Hllnl- ,
.trosity, lll‘rlli'l‘ it was (in;in deposit-ed in his waistcoat
:mckct. This was the most ridiculous part or thoch
iibiiion: to son ii. Kl‘illl'dililll, with the use of his eyug.
ookiilg allectiimall-1yntathluilping,r horse’s tooth, and .
believing it to ho his own. th this was a key to the}, ‘
'ilaior‘s whole character. A received opinion was with l
.iiln unchangeablc, no alteration of circumstances
could change it: it was/i175 1001/1. A l)elicl‘_oi' a doubt
was equally sacred with him; and though his sonses in
.hc present case should have shown him it was a.
horse’s tooth~uo, it was a piece of hilllscll’»~llis own
dear tooth. .

After this part y, the success winch crowned his anecv
dote and its atti-iidiiiit relic made him fondcr of show-
ing it off; and many a day did Dick the Devil enjo the
.Lstonishiiii'ut of visitors as his father exhibit the
anormous tooth as his own. Fondcr and fender grew
,hc Major of his tooth and his story, until the unlucky
.ia Edward O’Connor happened to be in the museum
\Vi h a part ‘ of ladies, to whom the old gentleman was
‘illOiVlll’ 0 his treasures with great effect and some
pains; for the Major, like most old soldiers, was very
attentive to the fair ‘scx. At last the pet cabinet was
o cued, and out came the tooth. One universal ex-
v-Bnnation of surprise arose on its appearance: What
,l. wonderful man the Major was to have such a tooth!
Just then, by an unlucky chance, Edward, who had not
.icen the Major produce the wonder from his cabinet,
perceived the rclic iii the hand of one .of the ladies at
i116 extremity of the irrell‘p,haild,.§ancymg it had drop-
' cm the home is ieuc , e sui : V
ptzfiilfglllqmse that is one of the teeth out of old behom-
her r‘s skull.“ . '

'1‘ ie Major thought this an im
political bias, and said, fiery s arply,
inoan by old Schombcrgi ' ‘ I .

"The horse’s head, sir," replied Edward, pointing to
the musical relic. _ .

“It was of my tooth you spoke, 511‘, when you said
‘old Schombcrg,’ " returned the Major, still more of-
i'uiidod at what he considered Edward‘s evasion.

“‘I assure you,” said Edward, with the strongest evi-
vicnce of a. desire to ho reconciled in his mice and

iluiiiiei'-—“ i assure you, sir, it was of this tooth ls ke;"‘
did he held up the toothlhe Major had produc aslns
.wn.

“ i know it was, sir " said the Major, “ and therefore
I didn’t relish your allusions to my tooth.”

“. Your tooth, sir?" exclaimed Edward, in surprises.

“ Yes. sir, mine.” .

“ My dear sir,” said Edward, “ there is some mistake
'iere; this is ahorsc’s tooth. 1‘ _ _

“Give it to me, sir!" said the Minor, anntcm it
from Edward. " You may think this very Witty, ir.
O‘Connor, but I don't; if my toothis of superhuman
.ize, I‘m not to be called a horse for it, Sin—nor bchoni;
be , sirl—horse—ulicm! better than an ass, however.

While this brief but angry outbreak took place, the
bystanders, of course, t'clt excessively unconitortahlp;
and poor Edward knew not what to do. The Mayor he
know to be of too violent a. temper to attempt explan-
ation for the rescntz'so bowin to the lad es, he left
the room, wit that lluslicd loo of silent vcxation to
which courteous youth is sometimes obliged to submit
at the hands of intern ioi'ute age. _

Neither Fanny nor ick was at home when tlus oc-
iurred, so Edward quitted the house, and was forbid-
len to enter it afterward. The Mia/or suddenly enter-
iained a. violent dislike to Edward O Connor, and hated
web to hear his name mentioned. It was in vain that
"x nation was attempted; his self-love had received
i mom shock, of which Edward had been the inno-
-'ent means. in vain did Dick endeavor to make lum-
..clf the eace‘offci'ing to,.his father’s wounded conse.
r uence; m vain was it manifest that Eanny was me VBd:
i 6 old Major persisted in declaring that ward
O‘Connor was a. self-sufficient Jackanapes, and forbade
:nost rcniptorily that further intercourse should take

mefitween him and his daughter; and she had too

11 asense of duty, and he of honor, to seek to Violate

1113 command. lint though they never met, the loved
lot the les fondly and truly; and Dick, grievei that a.
' lie of his should have interrupted the ha pmcss of
.i. sister he loved and a. friend he valued, kep ufi a sort
of communion beLWcuii them by talking to dwai-d
about Funny, and to Fanny about Edward, whose last
so was sure, through the good ofl‘lccs of the bl other
to its way into the sister’s album, ahcndy store
with many a tribute from her lover’s muse.

Faring was a. sweet creature—one of those choice and
Human bits of Nature's creation which she sometimes
vouchsafes to treat the world with, just to show what
: he can do. Her person I shall not attempt to describe;
{or however one may endeavor to make words lay the
out of color, lincament. voice, and expresSion—and
however successfully—still a. verbal description can
lever convey a true notion of personal charms; and
personal charms Fanny had, decidedly; not that she
was strictly beautiful, but, at times, nevertheless, eclip-
wing beauty far more regular. and throwmg symmetry
into the shade, b some charm which even they whom
it fascinated could not define. .

Her mind was as clear and pure as a mountain stream;
and if at times it chafed and was troubled from the
course in which it ran, the temporary turbulence on]
made its limpid depth and quietness more beautlf .
liar heart was the very tem le of generomtyfithe throne
uf honor and the seat 0 tenderness. edgentlest
:3 mpnthies dwelt in her 30111, 51121 811335“ t0 the
(figment call of mother's grief; while ninth was danc-
3.i lnher e e, a word thn. implied the sorrow of sn-
“ woul bring a. tear there.

  

rtineut allusion to his
“ What do you

‘ circumstances

 

She was the sweetest
meat ' th orldl '
‘mmoiinminl used unmvlnzhabltsfmmflsm

. /
0

Handy Andy.

wrcks together, at which times Funny went to Merry-
ville to her sister, Mistress Engun, who was also a ilno- i
hearted creature, but less soft and sentimental than ,’
li‘uiiny. She was of the dashing school rather, and pe- ,
tore she becaiiio the mother of so large a family,
thought very little of riding ovcr a. gate or a fence. ‘ lil-
dm-d it was ior high mettle that won her the squirc‘s
heart. The story is not long, and ma as well be told
hero-though a little out of place, per laps; but it’s an
lrish story, and may therfore he gently irregular.

The squire had admired Letitia uwson, as most of tho
young men of her acquaintance dim—appreciated her
round waist and wcll-turncd ankle, her spirited eyes and
i-lim-rt'iil huigh; and danced with her at every ball as
much as any other line girl in the country: but never

‘ serious] thought of her as a wife, until one days. party

visited t 1e parish church, whose old tower was often
ascended for the line view it commanded. At this limo
the tower was under repair, and the masons were
drawing up materials in a. basket, which. worked by
rope and pulley, swui on a beam rutruding from
the top of the tower. ' e basket had Just been lowered

il'oi' a fresh load of stones. when Letitia exclaimed,

“ Wouldn't it be fine fun to get into the basket, and be
hauled up to the top of the towcrth-how astonished the
workmen would he to see a lady get out of it!"

“I would be more astonished to see a. lady get into
it,” said a gentleman present.

” Then hero goes to .ltStOIllsh on," said Letitia laying
hold of the re )9 and iumpnl into the basket. n vain
did her fi'ien s and he wor men below endeavor to
dissuade her: up she would 0 and up she did go; and
it was during,r her ascent the. iii an and a friend were
riding toward the church. T eii' attention was at-
tracted by so strange a Sight: and, spurring onward,
E an cxc aimed, “ ytlie powers! ’tls Letty Dawsonl
V ell done, Letty! you‘re the right irl for my moneyl
By Jovel if 1 ever marry, Lefty’s ie woman.” ‘And
sure enouin she wait the woman, in another month.

Now, Fanny would not have done the basket feat,but
she had plont of fun in her notwithstan ; her
s ilrits were lig t; and thou%hd for some time, o felt
eeply the so aration from _ ward, she rallied after a.
Will felt t at unnvaihng sorrow but impaired the
henlt of the mind, and, sup y her good be
she waited in hopefulness or the time that Edwa
might chiim and win her. _

At Merryvnle now all was expectation about the an-

ticipated election. The ladies were mnki up bows of
ribbon for their partizans, and Flinn had on so em-
ployed all the morning alone in the owing-room; her

pretty fingers pinching, and ressin , and stitc ' the
silken favors, while now andp then Ear hand wan ered
tola wicker-basket which lay beside her, to draw forth a
scissors or a. necdlccasc. As she worked, a shade of
thought crossed her sweet face, like a passing cloud
across the sun; the pretty fln ors stop ed—the work
was laid down—and u. small al um gent drawn from
the neighboring basket. She opened he book and read;
they were lilies of Edward O’Connor‘s, which she drank
into her heart; they were the last he had written, which
her brother had heard him sing and had brought her.

THE SNOW.

I.
An old man sadly said,
“ Where’s the snow
That fell the year that's fled!—
Wliere’s snow?”
As fruitless were the task
or many a joy to ask.
As the snow!

. n.

The no of airy' birth,

Like he snow,
Is stnin‘d on reaching earth,
Wiirre  .. a.

e is spur mg e ray

'Tis melting fast away, '

Like the snow!

in.
A cold, deceitful thing
Is the snow, .
Though it come on dove-like Wing-
The falaq snow! _
’Tls but ram disguised appears;
And our hopes are frozen tears,
Like the snow!

A tour did course down Fanny‘s check as she read the
last couplet; and closing the 13001! and replacl it in
the little basket, she
wish he were not so

. CHAPTER VIII. ~
Lovn is of as many patterns, cuts, she. and colors
as peo le‘s garments; and the loves of ‘ ward O‘Con-
nor an Fanny Dawson'had Vury little resemblance to
the tender passion which tinted the breast of the
widow Flanagan and made in Durfy her slave. Yet
the widow and 'I’om demand the offices of the chroni-
cler as wall as the more elevated pair; and this our
veracious history could never get on1 if we exhausted
all our energies upon the more cngagn persoiuigcs, to
the neglect of the rest: your in ted handles. scrolls,
and mountings we all very we on their carriage, but
it could not move without its plain iron bolts.
Now the reader must know something of the fair
Mistress Finn ran, who was loft in very comfortable
Dilly a ' gardly husband, who did her
the favor to die suddgfiy one day, to. the no small sat-
isfaction of the pleasure-10mg widow, who married
him in an odd son of ahun'y.andgotrldothlmu
quic . Mr. Flanagan Was engaged in supplying the
ex revision trade, whicha every one knows, is con.
81 crab e in Ireland: his ea in beef and but-
ter were extensive. brough him into contact
with the farmers for m ' miles round, whom he met,
not only every marke y at every market-town in
the county, but at their own houses, where n knife and
fork were always at the service of the rich buyer. One
of these was a co Ma. Riley. whod on small means,
m d to live and man a Son on three bouncing
good- coking gli- , who helped to make butter, feed
calves, and superintend the education of pig- and on
these ‘actlve and comely lenses Mr. Flanagan o n cast
an eye of admiration, with a view to in one of
them his wife; for, though he mifiht have had eslpick
and choice of many fine _15 in he towns be A in,
he thought the simple. t W. and industrious habits
of a mmmmrs do. hter more like

to conduce to
his ban and ma for in that nailv luv the

l
l

\
i

11.

. i . . , . . .
Lulu-lied forth in nxprcssions fossion, would often go on a ramble somewhere for 1 aforesaid liappincss of Mr. Flanagan. Now, this inth

tion of honoring one of the three Miss ltiloys with pro'
motion he never hinted at in the reiiiiitcst do are, and
even in his own mind the thought was inixci‘l u ) with
fat cattlc and prices current; and it was not uiiti a loi
sure moment one day, wllcli he was )ayiiiit Mat. Rlloy
for some of his farming produce, that be breached

the subject thus:
u n

“ Sir.“

“ I’m thinking 0‘ marrying.“ -v .

“ Well, she‘ll have a snug llilllfll‘, whoever she is, Min"

thcr Flanagan.“ '
’ “ 'l‘hcm‘s lino girls 0‘ yours." ?
; Poor Mat opened his eyes with delight at the prospect
i of such ninatch for one of his daughters, and said they
I were “comely lumps 0‘ girls, sure enough; but, what
was bottlicr, the wor good."

“That‘s what 'mthinking,“says Ii‘lanugan. “ There‘s
, two ten-poun‘ notes. and u live, and one is six, and one

is seven; and three tciipiniiii's is lwo-and-sixpcnce;
, that‘s twenty-seven ioiui’ tiwi-iiiid-sixpcncr; eight-
. pelicc-lia‘pcnny is the ot; but i haven‘t copper in my
, comSnny, Mat" _
“ h, no innither, Mislhcr Flanagan. And is it one
0‘ m colleens you'vc lil't‘ll throwing the. eye at sir?"

“ es, Mat, it is. You're iiskin‘ tau much or them
flrkinsi”

“ 0h, Misthcr Finniigiin, cousich it‘s prime butther.
I'll back in girls for illuh‘lllg‘ upa hit. 0' butther age!)
any girls iii relund; and lily cows is good, and the pas-
ture )riinc.” ‘

“ " is it fax-thing a, poiui‘ loo high, Mat; and the min"
kct ilot lively."

“ The butthcr is good, Mr. Flanagan; and not do
centhcr riris ili Ireland than the slime girls. though I’m
their fat or “

“I‘m thinking I‘ll marl-v one o‘ tin-iii, Mat.“

. “ Sure, 'nn‘ it‘s proud I’ll be, sir; and which 0’ them is
it, maybe?“

“ Faith, I don‘t know myself, Mat. Which do you
think yourself?”

“ Throtli, myself doesn‘t know—they‘re all good.
Nance is nice, and Biddy’s biddable, and Kitty’s ’cu ."

“You're a snug man, Mat; you ought to be able to
give a husband a. trifle with them.“

“ Nothing worth your while, anyhow, Misther Flana-
gan. But sure one o’ lily girls without a rag to her

*k, or a tack to her feet, would be bijther help to an
honest industherin‘ man than one 0' your showy inn-
theruluswnsh divils out of a town, that would spend
more than she‘d bring with her.”

f‘Tll‘z‘it‘s thrue, Mat. I‘ll marry one 0‘ your girls, I

“ You’ll have m blessin‘, sir: and proud I’ll be—nnd
proud the tirirl 011g it to tic—Ilia! l‘ll say. And suppose,
now, you” coin over on Sunday, and take share of a
plain man’s diiniei‘, and take your pick 0’ the girls—-
there‘s a line hull 'goosc that Nance towld me she‘d
haVB ready ufther inst mass; for Father Ulick said he‘d
come and dine with us.”

“I can’t, Mat; I must be in the canal boat on Sun-
day; but I ll 0 und’brenkfast with you to-morrow, on
myI way to B' l Mooncy‘s, who has a finc lot of pigs to
be —remarkable fine pigs."

“Well, we'll expect you to breakfast, sir."

“ Mat, there must be no nonsense about the wedding."

“As you pl'use sir.” .

“Just marry her off, and take her home. Short
reckonings inning long friends.”

“ Thrue for you. sir." v

“Nothing to give with the girl, you say ?"

:wllilessin‘ only, sign"

e , you must t. row in that butther, Mat, on
take the farthin‘ off." d

“It‘s ours, sir,“ said Mat, delighted, loading Flann-
gan Wit “Good-byes,“ and “God save yous," until
thfishould meet next morning at liri-nkfiist.

t rode home in great glee at the res tof pro-
viding so well for one of his girls, and l’oid hem a man
woul be there the next morning to make choice of one
of them for his Wife. The girls, vei'y‘ naturally in-
quired who the man was; to which Mat, in the leni-
tude of patriarchal power, r» lied, “ that was no hing
tothem; ’ and his daughters ind sufficient experience
of his temper to know there was no use in asking more
questions after such an answer. He only added she
would be “well ofl.’ that should gethiin.” Now. {heir
father bei such a. curniud reon, it is no wonder the

lswercw hn to take the chance of n good—bummed
usband inste of an iron-banded father; so they set
to work to make themselves as smart as possible for
the approaching trial of their charms, and a battle
r0 nl ensued between the sisters as to the right and

‘ "ed, and said, “ Poor f owl I, ti 9 to certain pieces of dress which were hitherto con~

aldered a. sort of common ro rt among them, and
of which the occasion of a giiigfm'ya pattern! or mar-
ket-day was enough to ostiibllsh the possession, by
whichever of the girls wont to the pu lic 13436: but
now, when a husband was to bewon, rii ego of all
sorts was pleaded, in which discussion ere was more
noise than sound reason, and so many violent measures
to secure the envied morceauz, that some destruction of
finery took place where there was none to spare; and.
atlast, seniorit ' was agreed u n to decide the lies-
tion; so that when Nance had t e first plunder o the
chest which held all their clothes in common and Blddy
made the second grab, poor Kitt had little eft but her
ordinary rags to a r in. ut as, in the famous
in ’ment on Ida’s cunt, it is hinted that Venus car—
rie the day by her scalmty of drapery, so did Kitty’
conquer by want of clothes: not that love sat in udg-
ment; it was Plums turned the scale. But, to cave
metaphor and classic illustration, and go back to list
Riley s cabin—the girls were washing, and ,
and ironing all night and the morning saw them ar—
rayed for conquest. Flanagan clinic, and breakfasteg? ,
and saw the three girls. A dash silk handkerchi
which Nanc wore Put he; hqrs a comma very soon.
she was set own at once, in his mind, as extravan
Biddy might have had a chance if she had made any-
thing like a fair division with her younglest sister; but
Kitty had been so plundered, that her abhlness Won
an easy victory over the luggard’s heart: he saw in her
“ts; mam oft!!! wigs" lit-signingch sham:
e . ,aii ccrlul ey o
fie thbrlge: and there is no knowing how for $3513»
ht have been influenced b those considerations.
He spoke very little to any of the girls; but. hen he
was leaving the house, he said to the father. as e was

#Alislf-ho 'balf-mer meeti held'at some oer

taln on1y eday deg tedtggthe saintwholssup
to be the PATRON o

‘unmfl,

theupot—henco-the nuns

 

 

 

 

 

'shakim: hands with him, “Mat, I‘ll do it;" and, point-
in“r to Kitty, hc Illllh'd, “ ’l‘hat's the one I‘ll have.’
own was the rum) of thc elder sisters, for Flanagan

was notoriously a wealthy mun; and when he quitted , said Biddy, manifestly anxious
1 ence.

the house, liiltv scl‘ up such it shout. of laughter, that
her father um sisters told her several times “notto
make ii fool of horn-ill“ Still she laughed, and through-
out the dny sonn‘tilnos broke out into sudden roars‘

The: New. York Fibres?-

“ ’Twas dreadful!” said Biddy.

“ How is poor Mrs. Flanagan 1?" said Tom.

" As well as can be expected, ggor thing! Good-b i“
cut short the co er«

This anxiety was so obvious to Tom, who for the
sake of fun, loved cross-purposes dearly, that he deter-
mined to push his conversation further, just because he

and while her sillcs shook with nlcl'l'iun-nt, she would i saw it was unwelcome.

throw hcrscll’ into a chair, or loan uguinst the wall, to
rest herself lily-r the fatigue of her upronrious mirth.
Now Kitly, while sln- lllllu'llL’d at the discomflture of

her grecily sisters, also laughed at the mistnke‘intoi
which li‘lunngan lind fullcn; for, as her father said of ,

her, she was “ ’ruro," and she more than suspected the
cause of Flanncnn‘s l:llOll‘l", and enjoyed the anticipa-

“ To be sure,” continued he, “ at his time of life—”

“Vc truly,” said Biddy. “Good-morning."

“ An the season has been very unhealthy. ‘

“ Doctor Growliug told me so yesterday,’ said Biddy;
“I wonder you're not afraid 0 stop ing in this east
Wind—colds are ve prevalent. Goo -by l"

, Just now the Ge us of Farce, who presides so par-

iion of his disnmn:intnn-nl, for she was l‘onder of dress ; ticularly over all Irish affairs, put it into the lamb’s

than either Nancy or Biddy, and revclcd in the notion
of astonishing "the old uiggurd," as she called him'
and this she did “ many a time and oft.” In vain did
Flanagan try to keep her extravagance within bounds.

She would clthcr whccdle, reason, bully, or shame him i the

Bend to blizat. laThtehsoupd at first digg i110; es‘tgrike Tpm
ur assngu r ey eingneara ewi iin
which it was likely enough a lamb might ble'at; but
.’ Biddy, shocked at the thought of being discovered, in

not of making her jaunting—car a market-cart, red-

into doing what she said "was right and proper for a, , dened up to the eyes, while the widow squeezed herself

snug man like him.” His house was soon well fur-
nished: she made him get her a. jauuting car. She
somcrhnvs would go to panties, and no one was better
dressed than the woman he chose for her rags. He got
cnrnccd now nud then, but Kitty pacified him b soft
words and during: inventions of her fertile ancy.
Once, when he caught her in the fact of wearing
a costly crimson silk gown, and stormed,

amusement of her female. friends, he loved to repeat,

she .
soothed him by telling him it was her old black;
one she had dvcd; and this’bouncer, to the great]

closer into the corner.

Tom, seeing the increasin embarrassment of Biddy,
and her desire to be off, st' would talk to her, for the
love of mischief.

i “I beg your pardon," he continued, “just one mo-

‘ ment more—I wanted to ask was it not apop exy, for I
menialh an odd repoxl'gt (rigout‘the death ?" d b I“

“ es," says i ; a. exy—goo - y

“ Did he speak at all ix askeldo om.

“Baa!” says the lamb.

Tom cocked his ears, Biddy grew redder, and the

as a proof of what a careful conniving creature he ‘ widow crammed her handkerchief into her mouth to

had in Kitty. Slu- wns natural] quick-witted. She

umnaged him admirably, deceivel him into being more ‘
comfortable than ever he had been before, and bud the , Tom.
laudable ambition of enilcuvol‘iug‘ to improve both his '

and her own condition in every way.

She set about :

educating herself, too, as far as her notions of educa- ‘

tion Went; and, .in a few years after her marriage, b

judiciously using the means which her husband‘s wealt 1
afforded her of advancing her position in society, no
one could have recognized in the lively and well-dressed
Mrs. Flanagan the gawky daughter of a middling
farmer.
sisters, whos 1. condition she took care to improve with

her own; and a very fair match for the eldest was made , tains with relentless hand, and, spite
The younger one was often stay- . rudely unvailing the sanctuary of sorrowin
1

lhrou 'h her means.

ing,in icr house, dividing er time nearly between the

town and her father’s farm, and no party which Mrs. ’don, the sinking—generation of 01
winningan grave or appeared at went olT without giving take young wives
‘ This . widow lying back in the corner—she who was repre-

Biddy a chance to settle herself in the world."

endeavor to smother her laughter.
“I hope poor Mrs. Flanagan hears it well?“ says

“ Poor thing i“ says Biddy, “ she’s inconsolable.”

“ llama I" sa 3 the lamb.

Biddy spoke ouder and faster, the widow kicked with
lan gang, and Tom suspected whence the sound pro-
cee .

[ “She does nothinibiizglxl'y all day l” says Biddy.
t e

“ Baa-a-a /" says .
The Widow could stand it no longer, and a peal of

S \ was very good-natured, too, toward her 3 Ian liter followed the lamb's bleat.

"' hat is all this?” said Tom, lay' hold of the cur-
“’f

o Biddy‘s screams,

widow-

Oh, what a sight for the rising—I beg elr par-

gentlemen who

did Tom behold! There was the

was not done without a battle now and then with old ‘ sented as inconsolable and crying all day~shaklng with

Flanagan, whose stinginess would exhibit itself upon ‘ lnu hter, the

occasion; but at last all lot and hindrance to the me
lady ceased, by the sudden death of her old husban ,
who left her the entire of his property, so that, for the
first time, his will was her pleasure. .

After the funeral of the old man, the “disconsolate
widow" was Withdrawn from her own house by her
brother and sister to the farm, which frew to be a
much more comfortable place than when (my left; for
to have remained in her own house utter the loss of
“her good man” would have been too hard on “the
lone woman.” So said he'r sister and her brother,
though, to judge from the widow’s eyes, she was not
very heart-broken; she cried as much, no doubt, as
young,r widows generally do after old husbands—and

' could'Kitty be expected to do more?

She had not been many days in her widowhood when

Biddy asked her to drive into town, where Biddy had i

ho doa little shopping—that great business of ladies’
ves.

“ Oh, Biddy, dear, I must not so out so soon.“

“ ’Twlll do you good, Kitty.”

“I mustn‘t be seen, you know—‘twouldn‘t be right;
and cor dear Flanagan not buried a week 1"

“ ure, who’ll  you? VVu’ll go in the covered car,
and draw the curtains close, and who'll be the wiser?"

“If I thought no one would see mel" said the widow.

“ Ah, who‘ll see you?“ exclaimed Biddy. “ Come
along—the drive will do you good.”

The widow rim-med; but when Bidd asked for a horse
to put to the car, her brother relused, for the only
horse not at work he was going to yoke in a cart that
moment to send u lamb to the town. . Biddy vowed she
would have a. horse, and her brother swore the lamb
Should be served first, till Biddy made a. compromise,
and agreed to take the lamb under the seat of the car,
and so please all parties.

Matters being thus accommodated, off the ladies set,
the lamb tied nnckinnd hcels and crammed under the
seat, and thecurunns of the car read {,0 be drawn at
a. moment‘s notion, lll case they shou d meet any one
on the road; for “ wb ' should not the poor widow enjoy
the fresh air as in 1; l rch nlongy" About half-way to
the town, lanth’l‘, the Widow suddenly exclaimed:

“ Biddy, draw tln- curlumsl” ‘

“ What‘s the matter?" says Biddy.

“ I see him coming after us round a turn 0‘ the
road 1" and the widow looked so horrified, and plucked
M the curtains so furiously, that Bidd , who was su-
perstitious. thought. nothing but F anagan’s ghost
could have prodm-ed such un' effect: ,find began to
scream and utter holy cyuculntlons, until the sight of
Tom Durfy riding afier tucm showed her the cause of
her sister’s alarm.

" If that divil, Tom Durfy, sees me. he’ll tell it all
over the country, he's such a quiz; shove yourself well
before the door there, Biddy, that he can’t pee mm
the car. Oh, why did I come out this day 1— Wish
your tongue was cut out, Biddy, that asked niel“

In the meantime Tom Durfy closed on them fast, and
began telegraphing Biddy, who, according to the
widow‘s desire, had shoved herself well before the

door.

“Pull up, Tim, pull up!” said the widow, from the in-
side of the car, to the driver, whom she thumped on
the back at the same time to im )ress upon_lum her
meaning; “turn about, and pre nd to drlve back.
Ele’ll let that fellow ride on,” said she, quietly, to

idd .

Jug; as this maneuvre was executed, up came Tom
Du: . ’ _

“ ow are YOU. Miss Riley ‘3“ said he as he drew rem.

"Pretty well. thank you,"said Bidd , putting her
head and shoulders through the win ow. while the
widow shrunk hack unto the corner of the car.

“ How very sudden poor Mr. Flanagan’s death was i...
l was quite su rlscd. '

“Yes; indee ” says Biddy,
: Good-thy.“

., '. givy r. :u-‘n shocked to new of it.” said Tom.

“ I was just taking a lit—

 

l
i
l
|

tears; not of sorrow, but irre ressible
mi h rolling down a check rosy enough for a ride.

Bidd , of course joined the shout. Tom roaredln
an ony or de in. The very driver’s rlslbllltyre—
bell against the shits of respect and strengthened
the chorus; while the lamb, as if conscious of the
authorship of the joke, put in a longer and louder
“ Baa—a-a-a I"

Tom, with all hisdevilment, had good taste enough to
feel it was not a scene to linger on; so merely givinia
merry nod to each of the ladies, he turned about is

‘ horse as fast as he could, and rode away in roars of

l

‘ out smiling at each other.

lnu hter.
Vl en, in due course of time, the widow again appeared
in company, she and Tom Durl’y could never meet with-
What a. leasant influence
lies in mutual smilesl We love the lips which welcome
us without words. Such sympathetic influence it was
that led the widow and Tom to get better and better ac-
uainted, and like each other more and more, until she
t o ht him the leasantest fellow in the county, and
be t ought her 5 handsomest woman—besides, she
had a good fortune.

The widow. conscious of her charms and her mone ,
did not let Tom, however, lead the quietest, life in t e
world. She liked, with the usual propensity of her sex,
occasionally to vex the man she loved and assert her
sway over so good-looking a. fellow. he, in his turn,
played oi! the widow ve well; and one unfailing
source of mlrthlul reconc tion on Tom’s part, when-
ever the widow was angry, and that he wan ed to bring
her back to ood humor, was to steal behind her chair,
and coaflngfi' put his head over her fair shoulder to
pat her sonny on her peachy cheek, and cry “Baa ‘

CHAPTER IX. _

ANDY was in and disgrace for some da 5 With his
mother; but, like all mothers, she soon orgave the
blunders of her son—and indeed mothers are well of:
who have not more than blunders to for ve. Andy did
all in his power-to make himself usefu at home, now
that he was out of place and de ndent on his mother,
and got a. day’s work here an there where he could.
Fortunately the season afforded him more em loymem;
than winter months would have done. But e farm.
are soon had all their crops made upband when Andy
could find no work to be paid for he 688-11 to cut the
“ scrap o‘ meadow," as he called it, opasmall field of

is mother’s. Indeed, it was but a. ‘ scrap;" for the
place where it was one of those broken bits of
ground so common in the vicinity of mountain ranges,
where rocks, protruding through the soil, give the nonon
of a very fine cro ‘ of stones. Now, this locality fire
to Andy the oppo unity of exercisin a bit of his c .
acteristic i enuity; for when the ywas ready for
“cocking,”nfie selected a good thump ng rock as the
foundation of his haystack, and the superstructure con-
sequently cut a. more respectable figure than one could
have anticipated from the a pearance of the little crop
asitla on the ground; an asno vestige of the roc
was Visible the widow, when she came out to see the
work completed, wondered and “flowed at the 8126 Of
the haystack and said, “God bless you, Andy but
you’re the n‘atest hand for putting up a bit 0 ha I
ever seen; troth, I didn’t think there was the half 0 it
in it i" Little did the widow know that the cock of hay
wasas great a cheat as a. bottle of champagne—more
than half bottom It was all very well for the WldOW
to admire her hay: but at last she came to 3811 it, and
such sales are be effected in Ireland by the pur-
chaser bu ‘ln thelump," as it is called, the. is,
calculatlnfitthe value of the hay from the appearance
of the stac N h ,t it Andy,
own cars. ow, as luck would ave 1 9 W38 8
early acquamtauce, 0w naCoppal, bought the hay;
and in consideration or t e (one woman, gave her as
good a price as he could afford—for Owny was an hon-
est, open-hearted fellow, though he was a‘horse-dealer;

 

 

so he paid the widow the price of her hay on the spot,
and said he would draw it away at his convoluence.

\

as it stands, and drawing it away upon his lying

r V Vol. I.

lnafew days Owny‘s cars and men were sent for
this purpose; but. when they came to take the haysmck
to pieces, the sohdity of its center rather astonished
them—and instead of the cars going: back loaded, two
had their journey for nothing, and went home em tv.
Previously to his men leaving the widow‘s fleld,t (-y
spoke to her on the subject, and said, “ ’Pon my con-
science, ma'am, the center 0‘ your haystack Was
an hty heavy."

‘ Oh, indeed, it’stpowerful ha l” said she. '

_ “Maybe so,” sai they: “ bu there’s not much nour-
ishment in that part of It.”

“Not finer hay in Ireland!" said she

“ What’s of it, mn’am ” said they “Fnix, we think
Mr. Doyle will be talkin to you about it.” And llu)’
were quite right; for Owny became indignant at being:
overreached, as he thought, and lost no time in going;
to the widow to tell her so. When he arrived at in r
cabin, Andy happened to be in the house; and when tlm
Widow-raised her voice through the storm of Owny‘s
rage, 1n protestations that she knew nothing about it,
bu that Andy, the darlin’, put the cock up with his
own hands," then did Owny‘s passion gather strength.

_“Oh.l it‘s you, you vagabone, is it?" said he, shaking
hmwhip at Andy, with whom he never had had the
honor of a conversation since the memorable day when
his horse was nearly killed. “ So this is more 0‘ your
purty workl Bad cess to you i wasn’t it enough for on
to high band kill one 0’ my horses, without plottin to
chats the rest 0’ them i"

“ Is it me chate them?" said Andy. “ Throth, I
wouldn’t wrong a dumb baste for the world."

“ Not be, indeed, Misther Do lei” said the widow.

“Arrah, woman, don’t be kin’ your balderdash to
me,” 1slaidl‘limyleg “sure you took my good money for
your ay
I A‘ And sure I gave all I had to you—what more could

o .

“Tare an” ounty, woman! who ever heerd of sich a,
thing as covenn’ up a, rock Will. hay, and sellin’ it as the
magi"de d it M D 1 ha d

“’ as one , r. oye; )1 act or art
I hadn‘t in it."y ’ ’ p

“Wh , then, arn’t you ashamed o’ yourself?” said
Own oyle, addressing Andy.

“ y would I be ashamed?" said Andy.

“‘For ch‘atin’—that’s the word, since you provoke
me. ‘
“ WhatI done is not ch‘atin’," said Andy. “ I had a-
blessed example for it”.

“Ohl do on hear this!” shouted Owny nearly pro‘
voked to ethe worth of his money out of Andy.

bs. .

“ Yes, I sa . a blessed example," said Andy. “ Sure,
didn’t the b essed Saint Peter build his church upon a
rockygnd why shouldn’t I build my cock 0' hay on u

 

Own , with all his e could not help lau hing at
the ridiculous conceltfag‘ by this and that, And ',” said
he, ‘you‘re always sayin,:or doin‘ the quarest t ings in
the counthr , bad c_ess to you!" So he laid his whip
upon his litt 8 hack Instead of Andy, and galloped oil“.

dy went over the next do. to the neighboring
town, where Own Doyle ke t a ttle inn and a couple
of (Spat-chokes such as ,t ey were), and expressed
mu sorrow that Owny had been deceived b the ap-
pearance of the hay; “ but I‘ll pay you the diger out o’
in wages Mlsther Doyle—in throth I' will—that is,
w enever ’Ihave any wages to get: for the Squire
tumedtme ofi, you see, and I‘m out of place at this
presen .

“0h, never mind it," said Owny. “Sure it was the
widow woman got the money, and I don’t begrudge it;
and now that it s all past and gone, I forgive you. But
triage, Andy, what put such a quare thing into your

“W , you see," said Andy, “I didn’tlike the or
mother s pride should be let down in the eyes 0 the
neighbors‘ and so I made the weeshy bit 0’ bay look as
dacent as could—but, at the same time, I wouldn‘t
chate an one for the world, Misther Doyle.“

“Pill-Jo h, I‘b’tlleve ou wguldlrlx‘t, Ainfily; but, 'pon my
sow e nex me o u a take '
Saint Pether hasn‘t anghan in it?” care that

owny turned on_ his heel and was walking away with
an air of satisfaction which men so commonl assume
after fancymg they have said a good thing, w en Andy
fiteguwpted his retreat by an interjectional “Misther

:yWell,“ said Owny, looking over his shoulder.

‘I was thinkin’ s ,“ said Andy. .
H “For the first t e in your life I b‘lleve," saldOwny
and what was it you wor thinkin’?"

“I was thinkin‘ of dhrivln‘ a cha , sir.”

“ And what‘s that to me 9" said wny

“ Sure I might dhrive one 0‘ your chalses."

“ And kill more 0’ my horses, Andy—eh? No, no,

falx, I’m ateer’d 0’ on And! ,
nd knows dhnvin‘ betther nor me,
an way," said Andi-

‘ Fm, it’s my way and every way but the way you
ought you’d dhrlve, sure enough, I b’lieve: but, at all
events, I don‘t want a st-boy, Andy—I have Mickv
Doolln, and his brother ’ether, and thumb enough for
me. .
“Maybe you’d be wantin’ a helper in the stable
Misther Do le?” , '

“ No, An y; but the first time I want to make bay to
advantag "l_1 send for you," said Owny, laughing, as
he enters his house, and nodding at Andy, who rc-
turned a capacious to Owny‘s shrewd smile, like.
the exaggerated re_ when of a concave mirror. But
the grlnsoon substded, for men seldom prolon the
laugh that IS raised at their own expense: an the

corners of Andy’s mouth turned down as his hand -

turned up to the back of his head, which he rubbed, hi
he sauntered down the street from Owny Doyle‘s
It was some miles toAndy’s home, and night OVl'l‘-
took bun on the way, As he trudged along in th'e nud-
dle of the road he was looking up at the waning moon
and some few stars twinkling thro h the gloom, ab-
sorbed in many sublime thoughts as their existence,
and wondering what they were made 0!, when his cogi-
tatlons were cut short by tumbling over something
which la in the middle of the highway:_ and on scram
b to ‘ 1 again, and seeking to mvesti to the
cause of his xiii? he was rather surfiimed to a man
in such a state of lnsensib ty that all Andy’s
enorts could not rouse him. While he was standing
over hirfn, undecided pshtolswhatd fleshed}? (tlg, the
sound 0 approachmgw ee an re s of
gallopinghfiorses. attracted his attention; 33d it bogus
evident t unless the chaise land air which he now

 

sawinadvance were bro ht to u the cares of
the man in the middle of t e r0. woufi’ be very so.

 

.—-u

 

No. 9.

Handy 

 

over. Andy shouted lustilly, but to his every “Halloo
therol“ the crack of the w up replied, and accelerated
speed instead of a halt was the consequence; 'at last
in desperation. Andy planted himself in the middle 0
the road, and with outsprcad arms before the horses
succeeded in arresting their progress, while he shoutix
“ Stop!" at the top of his voice.

A pistol-shot from the chaise was the consequence of
Andy‘s summons, for a certain Mr. Furlong, a fopgiish
young cntleiiian, traveling from the castle of Du lin,
l;l‘\'(‘.l‘( roamed that a humane purpose. could produce
the cry 0" “Stop,” on a horrid (ms/i road; and as he
was reared in the ridiculous belief that every man ran
a great risk of his life who ventured outside the city of
Dublin he traveled with a brace of loaded pistols be—

side him: and as he had been anticipating murder and .

robber ever since iii ~htfall, he dii not await the de—
mand or his “ IllOIlt'ygol‘ his life " to defend both, but
fired away the instant he heard the word ‘btop! ' and
fortunate it was for Andy that the traveler s hurry im-
paired his aim. Before he could discharge a second

istol, And had screened himself under the horses’
Roads; an reco nizing in the postilhon his friend
Micky Doolin, he s outed out, “ Micky, Jewel, don‘t let
them be shootin’ me!" '

Now Micky's cares were quite enough engaged on his
own account: for the first pistol-shot made the horses
plunge violently, and the second time Furlong blazed
awa set the saddle-horse kicking at such a rate, that
all It ii'ky’s liorscmanship was re. lured to preserve his
seat; added to which, the dread of icing.r shot came over
him, and he crouched low on. the gray's neck, holding
fast by the inane, and shoutiii for mercy as well as
Andy, who still kept roaring to l ick “ not to let them
be shootin‘ him,” while he held his hat above him, in
the fashion.of a shield. as if that would have proved
an rotcction against a bullet. “ Who are you at all?"
said lick.

" Andy Rooney. sure.”

“ And what do you want?”

“ To save the man‘s life." . v I

The last words only caught the car of the f hteiied
Furlong; and as the phrase “ his life" seeme a per-
sonal threat to himself, he swore a trembling oath at
the postillion that he would shoot him if he did not
(l'wira on, for he abjured the use of that rough letter,
R, which the Irish so much re nice in! “ Dwive on you
rascal, dwive on!” exclaimed r. Furlong.

“ There’s no fear 0’ you, sir," said Micky, “ it’s a
friend 0’ my own.” I

Mr. Furlong was not quite satisfied that be was there-
fore the safer. .

“ And what is it at all, Andy?" continued Mick.

“ I tell you there's a man lyin dead on the road here,
and sure you’ll kill him, if you’l dhrlve over him."

“ How could I kill him any more than he is kllt," says
Mick “if he’s dead already." I

“ ell, no matther for that " says Andy. “ ‘Light
off our horse, will you, and help me to rise him?”

ick dismounted, and assisted Andy in lifting the
prostrate man from the center of the road to the slope
of turf which bordered its side. They judged he was
not dead however, from the warmth of the body; but
that he should still slee ) seemed astonishing, consider-
ing the quantity of shit in;r and kicking they gave him.

"I b‘lieve it’s drunk he is,“ said .Mlck.

“ He gave a grunt that time," said Andy; “shake him
a ain, and he’ll spake."

o a fresh shaking: the drunken man at last ave
some tokens of returning consciousness, b m ng
several Windinfi‘blows at his benefactors, an uttering
some half-lute gent maledictlons.

" Bad luck to you do you, know where you are?" said
Mick.

“ Weill" was the drunken ejaculation.

“ By this and that, it’s my‘ brother Pether,” said
Mick. “ We wondhered what ad ke thlm so late with
the return shay, and that is the way t is. He tumbled
oi! his horses, dhrunk; and where’s the shay, Iwon-
'dher? Oh, murdherl what will Mistlier Doyle say?"

“VVhat‘s the weason you don’t dwlve on?" said Mr.
Furlong. putting his head out of the chaise.

“13’s. one on the road here, your honor, almost
kille .'

“ Was it wobbersi" asked Mr. Furlong.

“ Maybe you‘d take him into the shay wid you, sir?"

“ What a wequest l—dwlve on, sirl"

“ Sure I can‘t}; l'alve m brother on the mg], 511;"

“ Your bwot ier -—a.n you wesume pu your
bwother to wide with me? Ypu 1 put me in the debclest
we. e if on don't dwive on.’ -

‘ alt then, I won‘t dhrlve on and l’ave my brother
here on the road.“

“ You rascal] wa aweel" exclaimed Eurlong.
"See, Andy,” sal icky Doolan;1‘1‘ “gill you get up

' while I sta with Pet er ‘
“‘91qu will,”su.id )Andy; “where is he goln’?"

“To the Squire's," said Mick; “and when you l‘nve
him ther , make haste back, and I'll dhrive Pether
home."

Andy mounted into Mick’s saddle; and although the
traveler “ pwotested” against it, and threatened pwo-
ceedin s” and “ magistrates," Mick was unmoved in
his bro herly love. As a last remonstranpe, Furlo
exclaimed, “ And pewhaps this fellow can t wide, on
don’t know the wood.” _ V

“13 it not known the road to the Squire s?——wowi
wowl“ said Andy. “ It’s I that‘ll rattle you there in no
time, your honor.“ O

“ Well, wattle away then i" said the enraged traveler,
as he threw himself back in the chaise, cursing all the
postillions in Ire‘an 1.

Now it was to Squire O’Grady‘s that Mr. Furlong
wante to 0; but in the confusion of the moment the
name of 0 Grady was never once mentioned; and with
the title of ’Squ1re,_" Andy never associated another
idea than that of his late master, Mr. Egan,

Mr. Furlong, it. has been stated, was an official of
Dublin Castle, and had been dispatched on electioneering

business to the country. He was related to a gentle. l
man of the same name who held alucrative post under ‘

government, and was well known as an active agent in
all affairs requiring what in Ireland was called “ Castle
influence;” and this, his relative, was now dispatched,
for the first time, on a similar emfilo ent. By the
way, while his name is before one, a t eanecdote may
be appropriatel introduced, illustrative of the wild
gflaggery prevailing in the streets of Dublin in those

one days were the cod old days of true virtue!
When a bishop who h daughters to marry, would
advance a deservilljz‘ voung curate too good living, and,

n t .ontent w‘th that manifestation of his ard
we)“; ve him ime of his mon‘childrm for awlfe lm'ghosa'
were days when. the country being in anger.

.1

 

 

, home, where,

fathers were willing to sacrifice. not only their sons,
but their daughters, on the altar of patriotisml Do
on doubt lt?—unbelicvin r and selfish creatures of
hose degenerate times! istcnl A certain father
waited upon the Irish Secretary, one fine morning, and
in that eculiar strain which secretaries of state must
be pi-et .y well used to, descanted at some length upon
the devotion he had always shown to the overnmciit,
and yet they had given him no proof of their confidence.
The Secretary declared that they had the. highest sense
of his merits, and that they had given him their entire
confidence.

“ But you have given me nothing else, my lord," was ‘

the answer.

“M dear sir, of late we have not had any proof of
sufilment weight in our gift to convince you. "

“Oh, Ibo your pardon, my lord; there’s a majority
of the ——~ ragoons vacant.”

“ Very
devote to the service of
have the majority sooner.

“Thank you, my lord,” said the worthy man, with a
low bow; “ then I have a child.”

“ Bless me, sir! I never heard you had a son."

“ No my lord, but I have a daughter.”

" A daughter!" said my Lord 'Secretary, with a look
of surprise; “ but you forget, sir—this is a regiment—
a dr oon regiment."

“ 0 , she rides elegant," said her father.

“ But, an dear sir—a woman?"

“Why s ouldn‘ta woman do her duty my lord as
well as a man, when the country is in nger? l‘m
ready to sacrifice my daughter," said the heroic man.
with an air worth .of Virginlus.

“My dear sir, t is really impossible; you know it’s

impossible.”

‘ Iknow no such thingl. my lord. But I‘ll tell you
what I know: there's a bi coming on next week—and
thierg are tten friends Qfmirw who have not made up their
m n s e . ‘

“ My’dear sir," said the Lord Secretary, squeezing his
hand with vehement friendshi , “ why place us in this
dreadful difficulty? It wonl be lm lble oven to

‘your country, no one should

draw u the commission;——fancy, ‘ ajor Maria,’ or
‘ Ma or argefiy’fl’
” my lor ,” said the father quickly, “I have fan-

h
cied all that long ago, and got a.cure ready for it. M
wife not having been blessed With boys, we thought t
wise to make 1; e girls ready for any chance that m' ht
turn? and so we christened the eldest George, he
secon flock and the third Tom; which enables us to
call them Georgina, Jac uellne and Thomasine, in
company, while the secre of their real names rests
between ourselves and the parish register. Now, my
lord what do you say? I have George, Jack, and Toni
—-th nk of your bill." The argument was conclusive,
and the atriotic man got the majority of a cavalry
co , wi h perpetual leave of absence for his daughter
Jae , who would much rather have joined the regi-
ment.

Such were the days in which our Furlong flourished;
and in such da 5 it will not be wondered at that a.
secretary, when e had no place to give away, invented
one. The old so ing has it, that “Necessity is the
motherof inven om" butaii Irish Secretary can beat
necessity hollow. For example:

A commission was issued, with a handsome so
to the commissioner, to make a measurement throngs
all the streets of Dublin ascertaining the exact -
tances from the Castle, from a furlong upward: and
for manya ear did the commission work, inserti
handsome a ne slabs into walls of most ignoran
houses, till then unconscious of their precise proximity
or remoteness from the seat of government. Ever
after that, if you saw some portly building, blushi in
the pride of red brick, and perfumed With fresh nt,
and saw the tablet recording the interesting fact t us—

FROM THE CASTLE,
ONE FURLONG.

Fancy might suggest that the house rejoiced, as it
were, in honored position. and did
“look so fine. and smell so sweet,"
because it was under the nose of viceroyalty, while the
suburbs revealed oor tatterdemallon tenements drop
ping their slates e tears. and utterln their lioiiow
sighs through empty easements, merely because they
were “one mile two furlongs from the Castle." But
the new stone tablet which told you 0 seemed to mock
their misery, and looked like a. fresh stab into their
ggor old sides; as if the rapier of a king had killed“

r

'FEIEB very, o 'nal measure of measurement was
provocative of dlcule or indignation as the impatient
might happen to be infected ut while the affair was
in nu blow, Mr. Furlong, who was the commissioner,
while walking in Sackvi e-street. one day, had a, goodly
sheet of paper pinned to his back by some—

—“sweet Roman hand,“
bearing, in large letters, the inversion of one of his own

tablets’ ONE FURLONG
FROM THE CASTLE.

and as he swa. ered along in conscious di lty, he
wondered at thgghouts of Ian liter ringing be ind him,
and turned round occale y to flee the cause, but
ever as he turned, faces were screwed up in seriousness,
while the laughter rung am in his rear. Furlong was
bewildered and much as e was used to the uni hful.
ness of an rlsh populace he certain! did wonder what
fiend of fun possessed them that ay, until the hall
porter of the ecreta ‘8 office solved the enigma- by
respectfull asklniwo d he not take the placard from
his back before 6 presented him

Furlong who is engaged in Our story was the nephew of
the man of measurement memory: and his mother, a
vul or woman sent her son to England to be educated,
the. he might “pick up the axjntf twas so {inteel the
Inglish ax‘ntl" And, according y. the you 11 en eav.

ored all he could to become nil-Irish in eve hing, and

was taught to believe that all the virtue an wisdom in i

Ireland was vested in the castle and hfigem.” thereon
.h m re Op 6 were worse an. saw, as.
anwimafiégfi jiggling: it fizfiot‘léat tgagnggh Igshman,

to nu KOVOmment
21:3) lgzgiire OoGradggoflslted‘t e wilds of Ireland. and
the circumstances attendant on the stopping o the
chaise aflorded the uliar nine of Hand Andy an
o portunity of a 10 one confusion, ydrfving
tlge political enemy of e sitting member mm his
by a curious mggdonce”: a“,
ntlmwwuexpectedevery oxian a:
 Andy had driven some time. he turned mm m

’._. ,,

 

 

true, my dear sir; and if you had ii. child to "

self. The Mister ti

 

i t . So Dick Dawson lighted
fit all»

‘2’
U.

spoke to Mr. Furlong. through the patio of glass with
which the front window-frame of the chaise. was not
furnished.

“ Faix, you wor nigh shootln‘ me, your honor,“ said

And .

“Iy should not wepwoach myself, if I had " said Mr
Furlong, “when you qiiicd stop on the wood: wobbcrs
always quied sto ), and I took you for ii. wuhlu-i‘."

“ nix, the rob lei-s here, your honor, iim'i-r axes you
to sto at all, but they stop you without uxiu‘. or by
youi'lave, or wiil our l‘nve. Sure, l was only al'ccril
you’d dlirivo over t in man in the road.“

" What was the iiuiii in the woad doing?“

“ Nothin’ at all, faith, for he wasn‘t able; lie WM
dhruiik, sir." ‘

“ The postlllioii said it was his bwothcr.“

“ Yls, your honor, and he’s a postillioii himself—mil
he}! lost his horses and the shay-Alia got drunk, and iv
of J”

“Th’ose wascally postlllions often get dwniik, I sup-

sci"

“ Oh, common enough, sir particular now about tho
’lcction time; for tho gintieini‘n is illn'iviii’ over the
country like mad, right and loft, and gives the boys
money to dhriiik their health, till tlioy are. killed.
a’most with the falls they get."

“Then ostillions of ten fall on the worlds here?“

“Tlirot i the roads is covered with them sometimes,
when the ’lcctions comes an.“

“What howwid iniiiiowalilyi
dwunk?"

“ Faix, I wish I wasl” sold Andy. '~ It‘s a great
while since I had adhrop; but it won‘i be long: so, when
your honor gives me something to drink your health.”

“ Well, don’t talk, but dine on."

All Andy’s further endeavors to get “ hi.« honor" iii-
to conversation were uiiavailing; so he whip ied on in
silence till his arrival at the gate-house of .lcrryvale
demanded his call for entrance.

“ What are you shouting there for?" said the travel-
er; “cawn’t you wing?"

“ Oh. they understand the Milton as well, sir;" and in
confirmation of Andy’s assurance, the bars of the en.
trance gates were withdrawn, and the post-chaise rat-
tled u the avenue to the house.

An y allgrhtcd, and gave a thunderiin,r tantai‘a-ra at
the door. ie servant who ogcned it was surprised at
the sight of And , and cold not repress a about of
wonder. Here D ck Dawson came into the hall, and
seeing Andy at the door, gave aloud hallco, and clapped
his hands in delight—for he had not seen him since the
da ' of the chase.

‘ An’ is it there you are again, you unlucky vagw
bone?" said Dick; “ and what bi'in s you here?”

Dal ’come with a jintleman to t ie innslher, Misthei
ic . '

“ Oh, it’s the visitor I suppose," said Dick, as he him.
self went out, with tiat unceremonious readiness so
characteristic of the wild fellow he was, to open the
door of the chaise for his brother-in-law’s guest.

“ You’re_welcome,” said Dick; “ come, step ill—UN!
servants Will look to your luggage. James. get in Mr.
————, I beg your ardon, but, ’pon my soul, I forgot your
name, tho )1 oriarty told me.”

° “ Mr. Fur orig,“ gent] uttered the youth.

“ Get in the lug age, amen. Come, sir, walk into the
dinner-room: we ven’t finished our wme yet," With
these words Dick ushered in Furlonghto the apartment
where S uire Egan not, who rose as t ey entered.

“ Mr. urlong, N ed," said Dick.

“ ppfi' to see Ru, Mr. Furlong,“ said the hearty
sigma, w o shook rlong‘s hand in what Furlong con-
sl ered a most sava e manner. “ You seem fatigued P“

“ Ve ," was the anguid mph of the traveler, as he
throw 1: mself into a chair.

“ Ring the bell for more claret, Dick." said Squire

an. ‘
Eg‘ I neveh dw‘lnk." '

Dick and the squire both looked at him with amaze-
ment, for in the friend of Moriarty they expected to
find a hearty fellow.

“A cool bottle wouldn’t do a child any harm,“ said
the squire. “ Ring, Dick. And now, Mr. Furlong, tell
us how you like the country."

“ Not much, I pwotes .”

“ What do you think of the people?“

“ Oh, I don’t know—you‘ll pawdou me, but—a—in
shpiahthtetre are so many wags. 1’ I m m

‘ ere are wags enoug 1, war not n er
devils in the world." 13‘ '

“ But I mean wags—tatters, I n can." .

“Oh, rags. Oh, yes—why, inde d, th 've not mu

, ‘W
clothe: to spare. ‘

“ And yet these watches are fweeholdcrs, I‘m told.“

“ lay, and stout voters, too." . '

“ ell, that all we. wequire. By-tlie-liy, how goes on
the canvass squire?" , ‘

“ Famousiy.

" Oh. wait till I explain to you our plan of opewations
from head waters. You‘ll see how famous we shall
wally at the listings. These [wiin have no i on of tac-
tics: we’ll introduce the English mode—take them by
an Wise. We must unseat him.“

Unseat who?” said the sgulre. _ ,

“ That—a—Egan, I think you call him."

The squire o nod his eyes: but Dick, with the ready
dovllment the. was always about him, saw how the
and lay in an instant, and making a signal to his
brother-in—law, chimed in with an immediate assent to
Furlong‘s assertion, and swore that Egan would be un-
seated to a, certaint . “Conic, sir,” added Dick “fill
one bumper at least % a toast I ropose: Here‘s Con-
fusion to Egan, and success to ’(‘rradyfl "

H Success to 010w ," faint] echoed Ifurlong, as he

' “ ese [laid a are so Wild—so uncul-
“ you’ll see how I‘ll supwiiie
them with some of my plane ' n .

“ on, the ire poor ignorant brutes, said Dick, “that
know not 113: a man of the world like you would buy
and sell them."

“ You see, they've no finesse: they have a certain (19
gwee of weadiness, but no do th—iio weal finesse."

“Not as muciiaswould p ysic a snipe," said Dick,“
wh wallowed a glass of claret to conceal a smile.

“ t‘s that on say about snipcs and physio?" said
Furlong; “who queer things on I‘luislcdo say.” '

n on, we’ve plenty 9’ queer ellows here," said Dick;
“ bu you are not takiirr your‘claret."

“ The twuth is, I am tigued—vewy—a-nd if You’d 81‘
low me Mr. O‘Gwady. I should like to go to my “0010': ‘
we’ll talk over business to-mowwow.”

“ ‘ nl ," said the squire, who was glad to t rid
ofhim, for t 6 scene was beoo too much or his
long to his room,
heaping civilitios upon him, left him to sleep _

I hope you‘re not

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

in the camp of hi..- enoniies, and then returned to the
dining—room, to enjoy with the squire the laugh they
were so long obliged to repress, and to drink another
bottle of claret on the strength of the joke.

“ What shall we do with him, Dick?n said the squire.

“ Pump him as dry as a linie~kiln," said Dick, “and
then send him off to O’Grndy—all’s fair in war."

“To be sure," said the squire. “ Unseat me, indeedl
he was near it, sure enough, for I thought I’d have
dropped off my chair with su )risc when he said it."

“ And the conceit nndimpu once of the fellow," said
Dick. “The ignorant Iwish—~nothing will serve him
but abusing his own countrymen! ‘The ignorant
irish!‘~on, is that all you learn in Oxford, my boy?—
just wait, my buck—if I don‘t astonish your weak mind,
it’s no matter!"

“Faith, lie.has brought his pigs to a pretty market
here,” said the squire; “but how did he come here?
how was the mistake made?”

“The way every mistake in the country is made,”
said Dick. “ Handy Andy drove him here.”

“ More ower to you, Andy,” said the squire. “ Come,
Dick, wc‘ 1 drink Andy's health—this is a mistake on
the right side.”

And Andy’s health was drank, as well as several
other healtlis. In short, the squire and Dick the Devil
were in high glee—the dining-room rung with laughter
to a late hour; and the next morning a great many
gflllfiy claret bottles Were on the tamer-and a few on

e 001‘.

 

CHAPTER X.
NO'I‘WITHS’I‘ANDING the deep potations of.the squire
and Dick Dawson the ni ht before, both were too much
excited by the arrival o Furlong to permit their beiflg
laggards in the morning; they were up and in cons -
tation at an early hour, for the purpose of carrying on
pros erousley the mystilicatiou so well begun on the
Cast e agen .
“ Now first of all, Dick,” said the squire, “is it fair,
do you think?” -
‘ Fair!" said Dick, opening his eyes in astonishment.
“ Why who ever heard of any one questioning an -
thing being fair in love, or war, or electioneering? o
be sure, it‘s fair—and more particularly when the con-
ceited coxcomb has been telling us how he'll astonish
with his plans the poor ignorant Irish, whom he holds
in such contempt. Now, let me alone, and I‘ll get all
his plans out of him, turn him inside out like a glove,
plum him as dry as a pond in the summer, squeeze
‘m ike a lenion-—and le-t him see whether the poor ig-
norant Iwhsh, as he softly calls us, are not an over-
match for him at the finesse upon which he seems so
much to ride himself."
“ Egnd I believe you're right, Dick," said the squire,
whose qualms were quite overcome by the argument
last advanced; for if one thing more than another pro-
voked him, it was the inipertinent self-conceit of pre—
suming and shallow strangers, who fancied their hack-
neyed and cut-and-dry knowledge of the common-
placos of the world ave them a mental elevation above
an intelli ent people of primitive habits,_whose sim-
plicity of ife is so often set down to stupidity, whose
contentment under privation is frequently attributed'to
,laziness and whose poverty is constantly coupled With
I he epithet “ignorant.” “A poor ignorant creature,
lindeed, is a common term of reproach, as if poverty
and ignorance must be inseparable. If a list could
he obtained of the rich ignorant people, it would be no
flattering document to stick on t e oor of the temple
of Mammon.
“ Well, Ned," said Dick, “ as you agree to do the Eng-
lishman, Murphy will be a grand hel to us; it‘s the
very thing he Will have his heart in. nrtough will be
worth his weight in gold to us; I will. ride over to him
and bringlhim back with me to spend the day here; and
lyou, in t e mean time, can put every one about the
ouse on their guard not to spoil the fun by letting the

cat out of the bag too soon; we‘ll shake her ourselves in
ood time, and maybe we won't have fun in the
nut!“

“You‘re right, Dick. Mu by is the very man for
our money. Do on be 0 for him, and I will take
care that all shall 0 ri rht at home here."

In ten minutes more ick was in his saddle, and rid-
ing hard for Min-tough Murphy’s. A good horse and a.
sharp pair of spurs were not long in pllacmg _
W wit the merry attumey, whom e found in his
stable-yard up to his eyes in business with some ragged
country fellows, the majority of whom were loud in
vvocii'erating their praises of certain dogs; while Mur-
tough drew from one of them, from time to time. a
solemn assurance, given with many significant shakes
of the bend, and up ifting of hands and eyes, “that was
the finest badger in the world!" Murtough turned his
head on hearing the rattle of the horse’s feet, as Dick
the Devil dashed into the stable-yard, and with a view-
halloo welcomed him. _

“You’re just in time, Dick. By the powers! we‘ll
have the finest day’s sport you’ve seen for some time.”

“ I think we shall," said Dick, “ if you come with me."

“ No; but on come with me," said Murtough. “The
grandest er-flght sir.“

"Pooh l" returned Dick; “I’ve better fun for you."
He then told them of the accident that conveyed their
political enemyinto their toils; “and the beauty pf it
is " said Dick, “that he has not the_remotest ens icion
o the condition he’s in, and fancies himself a la to
bu and sell all Ireland—horse-dealers andattomeys
inc %°di" l t!‘ d M h

“ atseegan ’sai urp . ,

“ He’s come to enlighten us, Myt’irtough,“ said Dick. _

“ And maybe, we won’t return the compliment," said
Murtough. “ Just let me ut on my boots. Hilloa. you
La ! saddle the gm . on’t you cut the pup s ears
till come home! an if Mr. Ferguson sends over for
the draft of the lease tell him it won’t be read till to-
morrow. Molly! Molly! where are you, on 0 d div“?
Sew on that button for me—I forgot to to you yesml"
day—make haste! I won’t dela you a moment, Dick.
Stop a minute, though. I say, IYanty Ho n—mind,
on your peril, you old v 'abone, don’t let them fight
thatbfldger without me. ow, Dick, I’ll be with you
in the twinkling of a bcdpost, and do the Eu lishman.
and that smart} Bad luck to their conceit! t ey think
we can do nothing regular in Ireland."

On his arrival at Merryvale and hearing how matters
stood, Murtough Murphy was in a. perfect agon of de-
light in anticipating: the mystification of the kl tipped

ent. Dick‘s intention had been to take him . 0133
With them on their canvass. and openly an age him in
all their electiox ct ug movement?“ but to t ‘8 Mm'plllly
objected, as runnii g too great :1 ris ; of discovery. 6
recommended rather to engage Furlong in amusements
which would detain him from O‘Grudy and his party,

 

Jhel‘iew York Library-

him via-a- a

_ Will:

 

and gain time for their side' and get out of him all the
electioneering plot of the other party indirectly; but to
have as little real electioneerinfi bus ness as possible.
“If you do, Dick," said Murp y,“‘take my word, we
shall betray ourselves somehow or other—he could not
be so soft as not to see it; but let us be content to
amuse him with all sorts of absurd stories of Ireland—
and the Irish—tell him magnificent lies—astonish him
with grand materials for a note-book, and work him
up to publish—that's the plan, sir!" '

The three conspirators now joined the familylparty,
which had just sat down to breakfast' Dick, in is own
jolly’way, hoped Furlong had slept well. I

“ ewy."said Furlong,as he sipped his tea With an
air of eeuliar nonchalama which was meant to fasci-
nate anny Dawson, who, when Furlong addressed to

pronunciation of the letter R, established a lisp di-
rect] , and it was as much as her sister, Mrs. Egan,
coul do to keepher countenance as Fanny went on
slaughtering the S‘s as fast as Furlong mined R’s:

“ ll twouble you for a little mo‘qus/am,” said he,
holdinfilforth his cup and saucer with an affected air.

“Per 9. th you‘d like thum more theugar,“ llsied
Fanny, 1i ting the sugar-tongs with an exquis1te our of
her little finger.

“ I’m glad to hear you slept we " said Dick to Fur-

lo .

“gl‘o be sure he slept well," said Murphy; “ this is the
3108 iest air in the world."

“ he sleepiest air ?” returned Furlong, somewhat

su vised. ‘ That’s ve odd.”

“ 0t at all, sir,” sai Murphy' “well-known fact.
When I first came to this rt of the count I used to
sleep for two days toget or sometimes. enever I

wanted to rise early, I was always obliged to get up the
hi ht before."

is was said by the brazen attorney, from his seat
at a. side-table, which was amply proVided with a large
dish of boiled potatoes, capacious jugls of milk, a quan-
tit of cold meat and game. Murp y had his mouth
h f filled with potatoes as he spoke, and swallowed a
large thought 0 milk as tlw stranger swallowed Mur»

phy’s he. _ _ l
I; You don‘t eat potatoes, I perceive, Sir,” said Mur-

p .

“YNot for bweakfast,” said Furlong.

“ Do you for thupper?’ ’ lisped Fanny

“ Never in England," he replied. .

“Finest things in the wor d, sir, for the intellect,”
said Murphy. ‘I attribute the natural intelligence of
the Irish entirely to their eating them.”

“Oh, the are thometimes t o thleepy at the Catli-
“81"sui‘iyfinnya th to ith the t ost

‘ We‘ ‘ sai e exquisi , w u m sim-

plicit .
rovoking, Mr. Furlong,” said Mrs.
gill. to as
w

“ anny is ve _

Egan, who was 0 something With a smile,
to avoid the laugh ch con inued silence would have
forced upon her.

” Oh, no !” said the dandy, looking tenderly at Fanny;
“ aura vewy agweable—fond of a httle we a’tee."

“ ey call me thatirical here," said any, “ only
Yanthyl ’ and she cast down her eyes With an ekqiuSite
aflectation of innocence.

“ B -the-by, when does ‘your post awive here—the
mail ‘ mean?" said Furlong.

“ About nine in the morni

“ And when does it go out?

“ About one in the afternoon.”

“ And how far is the post town fwom your house?”

“ About eight or nine miles."

“alien you can answer your letters by wetu’n of
pos

“ Oh dear, no l" said the squire: “the boy takes any
letters that may be for the post the following morning,
as he goes to the town to look for letters.”

“ But you lose a. t by that,“ said Furlong.

“ And what mat r?" said the squire.

The official‘s notions of arity were somewhat
startled by the s uire’s answer; so he pushed him with
a few more ques one. In reply to one of the last, the
squire represented that the post-boy was saved going
twice a day by the present arrangement: '

“ Ay, bu you lose a post, my dear Bll‘ ” said Furlong,
who still clung with pertinacity to the fitness of an
st. “ Don‘t on see that you ht weceive our
le her at half-pas ten' well, than you’ hays afull our
to wite you’ answer; that's quite enough time, I should
think, for you wetu’nnig an answer."

“ But, my dear sir,” said Murtongh Murph , “ our
grand object in Ireland is not to answer letters. ‘

“ Oh l—ah l—hum !— indeed —-well, that’s odd; how
ve'wy odd you Iwish are l"

“ Sure, that’s what makes us such pleasant fellows,”
said Murtou h. “ If we were like the rest of the world
there woul be nothing remarkable about us; an
who’d care for us?“

“ Well, Mr. Mufly, you say such queer things—

we .
“A? and I do queer things sometimes—don’t I,
uire?"

‘ There’s no den 'n it, M by.”

“Now, Mr. 0'01? y,"saiud'pFurlong, “had we not
better talk over our election business?

“Oh, ha business today!“ said Murphy: “let‘s
have some : I’ll shngwyyou such salmon-fishing
as ou never sawin our 3.

‘y What do say,yMr. O’Gwadfi?" said Furlong.

“ Faith I t ' we might as we amuse ourselves.”

“But t e election is Weally of such consequence; I
should think it would be a wema kab ,close contest,
and we have no time to lose; I should i: —with sub-
mission—“ .

“My dear sir,” said Murphy, “ we‘ll beat them hol-
low: our canvass has been most Prosperous; there’s
only onetthi‘nhgig'm afiéaiidugf." ,

“ Wha s ‘ i on .‘

“That Egan hassamoney,‘ aid I’m afraid he’ll bribe

. h."

mgAs for bwibewy, neve’ mind that,"  Furlo ,

with a. very wise nod of his head and a. sagacxous w .

“ We‘ll a too. We’ve swepawed for that:

plenty 0 money will be advance for the gov'nment

18 really anxious that Mr. Scatte’bwain should come

In. I
“ Oh then, all‘s right!" said Murphy. “ But-Whis-
r— r. Furlong—be cautious how you mention msmey,
or there are fellows about here and there 5 no
knowing how the wind of the word might put the other
party on their guard, and, maybe, be p to unseat our
man upon a petition.’
“ Oh, let me alone.” said Furlong. “ I know a twick
too many for tlir lsi them catch me betwaying a

,” said the squire.

    

 

 

semt! No, no wow. :eJ' too sharp for that!"

her his first silly commonplace, with his peculiar rump r

7.7,, 7. . W \I—lrfin

“Oh! don't suppose, my dear sir,“ said Murphy.
“ that I doubt your caution for a moment. I see, Sll',
in the twinkling of an eye, a man’s character—always
did—always could, since I was the hight 0‘ that;" and
Mui by stooped down and extended his hand about
two eet above the floor, while he looked up in the face of
the man he was huinbuggiug with the most unblushing
impudence—“ since I was the hight 0' that, 511‘, I had a
natural quickness for discerning character; and I soc
you’rea young gentleman of superior acutengss and
, discretion; but, at the same time, don’t be angry with
I me for just hinting to you, that some of these Irish
; cha s are d—d rogues. I beg your pardon, Mrs.
; 0‘ rudy, for saying (l—n before a lady;“ and he made
, it low bow to Mrs. Lgau, who was obliged to leave the
3 room to hide her laughter. ’

“Now,” said Furlong, “suppose befo‘e the opening
,1 of the poll, we should pwopose, as it were, with a View
{ to_save time, that the bwibei'y oath should not be ad-
mmiste’d on either side."

_“That’s an elegant ideal" said Murphy. “By the
mg 0" the chief justice—and that'sa big oath—you’re
a Janius, Misther Furlong, and I admire you. Sir.
you’re worth our weight in gold to us!“ .

“Oh, you tte’ niel—weally," said Furlong, With
infected modesty, while he ran his fingers through his
Macassar—oiled ringlets.

“Well, now for a start to the river, and won’t we
have sport! You English-taught gentlemen have only
one. fault on the face of the earth—you‘re too fond of
business— on make yourselves slaves to propriety—w
there’s no on in you. ’

“I beg pawdon—there,” said Furlong, “we like fun
in good time.”

‘ Ah- but there’s where we beat you,” said Murphy,
trium hantly; “the genuine home-bred Pwdd makes
time or fun sooner ban anything else—we ake our
own way, and live the longer.‘

 

lose our time indeed."

“ V ell, ‘ divil may care,’ as Punch said when he lost
mass, ‘there’s more churches nor one.’ says he and
that’s the way with us," said Murphy. “ Come, ick,

at the fishing-lines read ; heigh for the sahnon-
heryi You must know, 'sther Furlong, we fish for
salmon with line here."

“I don't see how you could fish any other way ” said
the dandy, smiling at Murphy, as if he had caught him
in saying something absurd.

“Ah, you rogue,”said Murphy, affecting to be hit;
“you‘re too shar for us poor rish fellows; but you
know the 01d sayin , ‘ An Irishman has leave to speak
twice;' but, after a , it‘s no great mistakel’ve made:
for when I say we fish for salmon with a hne, I mean
we don’t use a rod, but a leaded line, the same as in sea-

flshing." .
,extwao’dinary! Why, I should tlnnk

“ How ve
that im ssib e.

f‘ An why should it be impossible it" said Murphy
With the most unabashed impudence. “Have not all
nations habits and customs ecnliar to themselves!
Don‘t the English catch their h by striking them un‘
der the water with a long rou h stick, and a little cur'
whibble of a bone at the end 0 it?“

“ Speawi them, you mean,“ said Furlong,

“Ay, on *now the right name, of course; but isn‘t
that ui e as odd, or more so than our way here?"

“ T at’s vewy twue indeed; but your sea-line fishing
in awiver, and for salmon, strikes me as vewy singu-

ar.

“ Well, sir, the older we grow the more we learn.
You’ll see what flnc sport it is; but don’t lose any more
time: let us be off to the river at once.“ '

“ I’ll make a slight change in my dwcss, if on please
~I’ll be down immediately;” and urlong let the room.

Dur his absence, the Squire, Dick, and Murphy en-
ilgyed amenity laugh, and ran, over the future proceed-

of e .
‘ fisBut whatydo you mean by this salmon-fishing,
Murphy?“ said Dick; “you know there never was a.
salmon in the river.“

“But there will be t4;:.-day,’.y aid Murphy; “and a
magnificent Eudgeon Will see him caug t. What a
s can that to ow is!—-we’ve got the bribery out of him

e i

a . ,
“ You did that well, Murphy," said the uire.
“ Be at him a sin when he comes (lownfiqsaid Dick.
‘_‘No, no,"sai _ Murph , “let him alone; he is soconv
ceited about his talen for business, that he will be
talking of it Without our pushing him: just 've him
r0 eiiou h, and he’d hang himself; we’ll ace the
M We of M r campaign out before the dayis over."

CHAPTER ,X'I.

ALL men love to gain their ends; most men are con-
tented with the shortest road to them, while others like
by— aths. Some carry an innate love of triumph to a
pitc of epicurism, and are not content unless the tri-
umph be achieved in a certain way, making collateral
Elassions accessories before or after the fact; and

urphy was one of the number. To him a triumph
without fun was beef Without mustard, lamb without
salad, turbot without lobster sauce. Now, to entangle
Furlong in their meshes was not sufficient for him; to
detain im from his friends, every moment betrayin
soniethiii of their electioneering movements, thougg
sufficient ludicrous in itself, was not enough for Mur-
tough l—he would make his captive a. source of ridicule
as well as profit, and ‘while plenty of real amusements
might have served this end, to divert the stranger for
the day, this mock fishing-party was planned to
brighten With fresh beams t e halo of the ridiculous
which already encn'cled the magnanimous Furlong.

“I’m still in the dark,” said Dick, “ about the salmon
336: "said before, there never was a salmon in the
_ .“But, as I said before," re lied Mn 11 “there
 today i and you must help me in playing OR the

“But what is this trick? Confound ou, ou're as
m ‘steripus as a Chancery suit." y y
M rI garish I was likely. to last half as long.” said

u y. ,

“£1.18 trick!” said Dick. “Bad luck to you, tell me
Elie trick, and don’t keep me waiting, like a. poor rein:

n_ .

“goo have two boats on the river?” said Murphy.
es. \. '

“We on must t into one with our fiM' and)
can lgetninlilo the othgre with the salmon.” '

“ ut where’s the salmon, Murphy?"

“In the house, for I sent one over this morning, a
present to Mrs. Egan. You must keep away about
thirty yards or so, when we get afloat, that our dew
friqu .iiay n3: perceive the trick—audit; proper that

 

 

“Ah! you lose your time—though—excuse me; you '

 

 

 

in

m

 

 

No. 9.

\

IIandy Andy.

 

Iwill hook my dead salmon on one of my lines, drop
him over the off-side of the boat, pass him round to the
gunwale within view of our intelligent castle customer
make a great outcry, swear I have a noble bite, haul
up my fish with an enormous splash, and, affecting to
kill him in the boat, hold up in salmon in triumph."

“It’s a capital notion, Min-p iy, if he doesn’t smoke
the li'ick."

“lIc‘ll smoke the salmon sooner. Never mind, if I
don't hoax him; l‘il bet you what you like he’s done.”
"I hear him coming down stairs “ said the squire.

“ Tili'u send off tho salmon in a basket by_ one of the

‘boys, Dick,“ said lilui'ph '; "and you, Squire, may go
about your C:l.ll\' x, .‘llltli’lh'l‘ us in care ot_tli0 enemy."

All was done i .iiurphy pro )osed, and, iii something
loss than an hour, Furlong an Dick in one boat, an
Murphy and his attendant gas-soon in another, were
afloat on the river, to initiate the Dublin citizen into the
in stories of this new mode of salmon-fishing.

[‘lie sport at first was slack. and no wonder; and
Furlong began to grow tircd, when Murphy hooked on
his salmon, and gcntly brought it round under the
water within range of his victims observation.

“ This is wathcr'diill work,“ said Furlong.

“Wait awhile, my dour sir; they are nover livcly in
biting so early as this—they‘re not set about feeding in
earliest yet. Iiillo.i.! by the hokey I have him!“
shouted Murphy. Furlong looked on with great anxi-
ety, as Murphy made a \vcll—feigncd struggle with a
heavy flsh.

“ By this and that, he‘s a Whopper!" cried Mur by in
ecstac . “ He’s kicking like ii. two»year old. {have
him, t iough as fast as the ruck o‘ Dunnniaso. Come
up, you thie i” cried he, with an exultin shout as he
pulled up the salmon with all the s lash 8 con d pro-

uce; and suddenly whipping the fis over the side into
the boat, he began flap iiiig it about as if it were lung-
iiig in the death strugg c. As soon as he had a fectcd
to kill it, he held it up in triumph before the Castle con-
juror who was quite taken in by the feint, and pro-
teste his surprise loudly.

“ Oh! that‘s nothing to what we'll do yet. If the day
should become a little more overcast, we‘d have splen-
did s )ort, sir." .

“ all I could not have believed, if I hadn’t seen it,"
said Fur ong.

“ Ohi you’ll see more than that, my boy. before
we‘ve‘done with them."

  

“ But I haven‘t got even a bite yeti"
‘- Nor I either, said Dick; ‘ you're not worse oi!
than I am.”

“ But how extwao’dinawy it is that I have not seen a
fish wise since I have been on the Wiver.” '

“ That's because they see us watching them," said
Dick. “ The (1—1 such cunning brutes I ever met with
as the fish in this river; now if you were at a distance
from the bank, ou’d see them Jumping as lively as
grasshop rs ishtl I think I had 8. hi ble."

u“ Ygll «gift seem to have good sport there,“ shouted

in- .

“ ev¥ry poo” indeed," said Furlon , dolefully.

“Play your line a little," said ll urpliy; “keep the
bait lively—you're not up to the way of fascinating

,them‘yet." .
‘ " Why, no; its wntlier non to me."
" Faith!" said Murphy to himself, “it‘s new to all of
x us. It‘s a bran new invention in the fishing line.
Billy," said he to the 9088mm, who was in the boat with
him, “ we must catch a salmon again to divert that
strange gentleman—hook him on my buck.”

“ Yes, sir," said Bill , with delighted eagerness, for
the boy entered into t ie fun of he thing heart and
soul, and as he hooked on the salmon for a second
haul, he interlnrded his labors with such ejaculations
as, “ Oh, Misther Murphy, sir, but you’re the funny
gintleman. Oh, Mistlier Murphy, sn', how soft ‘the
stranger is, sir. The salinon’s ready for ketchin‘ now,
sir. Win you ketcii him yet, sir?"

“ Coax him round, Billy,” said Murphy. I I

The you im executed the maneuver With adroit-
ness; and Ilifurp iy was preparing for another haul, as
Furlong's weariness began to manifest itself.

“ Do you intend weinaining here all day? Do you
know, I think I‘ve no chance of any spo't."

“Oh, wait till Kgu hook om: fish at all events,” said
Murphy- “ just ve it to say you killed a sahnon in the
new sty e. The day is promising better. I‘m sure
we’ll have sport yet. illoa! I've anotheri” and Mur-
phy began haulin in. the salmon. “Bil‘liy, you rascal,

at ready; watc him—that‘s it—min ' nowi’
gilly ut out his gafl to seize the £216, and making a
gran swoop, afiected to miss the “ Gah ' , you
Lhicfégatf him!" shouted Murphy; “gaff him, or he‘ll

c o i ’

“ Oh, he‘s so lively, sir!“ roared Billy; “ he’s arogue,
sir—he won't let me_ put the gaff un er him, sir—ow,
he slap ed away 8, am." y . n

“ a e haste, Bi ly. or I can‘t hold him.

“ Oh, the thief!" said Billy; “ one would think he was
eotciit before, he‘s so up to it. Hai—hurrooi—I have
him now, sir." Billy made all the splash he could in
the water as Mur h lifted the fish to the surface and
swung him into t e at. A ain there-was'the flopplriifi
and t e riot, and Billy screec ing, “ Kill him. sir —k
him. siri—or he’ll be off out o’ my hands!" _ In roper
time the fish was killed and shown up in triuinp i and
the imposture completed. _ _

And now Furlong began to experience that peculiar
longing for catching a fish, which always possesse men
who see fish taken by others; and the demo to have a
sahnon of his own killing induced him to remain on the
river. In the long intervals of idleness which occurred
between the occasional hooki up of the salmon,
whichM hy did every now 8.35 then, Furlong would
be [alkmg a cut business to Dick Dawson, so that they
had not been very long upon the water until Dick be-
came enlightened on some more very important points
connected With the election. Murphy now pushed his
I nit on toward the shore.

. vt You're not going yet?" said the anxious fisherman;
",de wait till I catc aflsh ’ “ ,

“ Certainly,” said Murphy; I in only going to ut
Billy ashore, and send home what we’ve already caug t.
Mrs. O‘Grad is ionate fond of salmon.’

Billy was {an ed, and a urge basket, in which ,the
salmon had been brought down _to the boat, was land-
ed also—empty; and M by. lifting the basket as if it
contained a considerab e we ht,  it 0n Billy’s
head, and the sly young ban ’ 1198311“. as if all

urphy had pretended to take were really in

the fish M
it: and he went on his homeward way with a. tottering
stop as if the load were too much for

"Thatnbgyé; gig a??? “will never be able to
eawwya e 9 case.

“(immanent balm in ch for “New niob-

 

“Curse the flshl I wish they‘d bite. That thief, Mur-
phy, has had all the sport; but he’s the best fisherman
in he county—I’ll own that."

The two boats all this time had been drifting down
the river and on opening a new reach of the stream
a somew at extraordinary scene of fishing presented
itself. It was not like Murphy’s fishing—the result of a
fertile invention-but the consequence of the evil des-
tiny which presided over all the roceedings of Handy
Andy. The fishing-party in the mats beheld another
fishing-party on shore, with this difl'erence in the nature
of what they sought to catch, that while they in the
boats were lookin for salmon, those on shore were
seeking for a post-c disc; and as about the third part of
a vehicle, so-called, was apparent above the water,
Furlon exclaimed, with extreme surprise:

“ We , if it ain‘t a ost-chaisel"

“0h! thirt’s nothing extraordinary."
“ common enough here. "

“ How do you mean?”

“We've a custom here of running steeple-chases in
postchaises." .

“Oh, thank you," said Furlong. “ Come, that‘s too

00d H '

said Dick;

“ You don’t believe it, I see,“ said Dick. “ But you
did not believe the salmon-fishing till you saw it."

“Oh, come, now! How the deuce could you leap a
ditch in a post-chaise?” I

“I never said we leaped ditches; I only said we rode
steeple-chases. The system is this: You go for a given
point, taking high-road, by-road, lain, or lane, as the
case may be, making the best 0 our way how you
can. Now our horses in this coun ry are celebrated
for being good swimmers, so it's a plan to shirk a
bridge sometimes by_ smmming a river.“

“ ut no post-chaisewfll float " said Fllrlorl'lf, regu-
larly arguing against Dick‘s men acious absu it .

“Ohl we are repared for that here. The c aises
are made light, ave cork bottoms, and all the solid
work is made hollow; the doors are made water tight,
and, if the stream runs strong, the passenger jumps out
and swims." _

“Bfiit ‘that’s not fair,“ said Furlong; “it alters the
we" t.’

“Oh! it’s allowed on both sides," said Dick, “so it’s
all the same. It’s as good for the goose as the gander."

“I wather imagine it is much fitter for eese and

anders than human beings. I know I shou d wather
fie a goose on the occamon." _

All this time they were nearing the party on shore,
and as the postchaise became more developed, so did
the personafies on the bank of the river‘ and among
these Dick awson saw Handy Andy in the custody of
two men, and Sqmre O‘_(}rad shaking his fist in his
face and storming at him. ow all this arty came
there, it is necessary to ex lain. When and Andy
had deposited Furlong at errvvale, he drove ack to

ick up the fallen posti lion and his brother on the road;

at before he reached them he had to [pass a public-
house—I say had to pass—but he didn‘t. ndy stopped,
as evegy honorable postillion is bound to do, to drink
the he th of the gentleman who gives him the last
half-crown: and he was so intent on ‘dning that same,"
as they say in Ireland, that Andy’s driving became ve
equiv afterward. In short, he drove the pos -
chaise into the river; the horses got diseiitangled by
klckin the traces (which were very willing to break)
into p aces; and And , by sticking to the neck of the
horse he rode, ot on of the water. The horses got
home without 8 post-chaise, and the_ other
chaise and pair got home without'afostillion, so that
Owny Doyle was mused from his be by the neighing
of the horses at the gate of the in. Great washis
surprise at the event, as, half clad, and a candle in his
hand, he saw two pair of horses, one chaise, and no
driver, at his door. The next morning the plot thick-
ened. Squire O‘Grady camc_ to know if a. gentleman
had arrived at the town on his way to Neck-or-Nothing
Hall. The answer was in the affirmative. Then
“ Where was he?" became a nestion. Then the re rt
arrived of the oat-chaise ing upset in the ver.
Then came stories of postillions falling off, of po-
tillions being changed, 0 Handy Andy being employed
to take the gentleman to the place; and out of these
materials the story became current, that “an English

entleman was dhrowndedin the river in a post-chines.”
s‘Gi-ad set of! directly With a party to have the river
and near the spot encountering Handy Andy,

dr 6
egg ’ ed, and accused him of mur-

ldie prdgredf iiiii‘i1 to be seiz
81 is men .
ring” in this state of things that the boats a
reached the rt on land, and the moment Die
Bawson saw an Andy. he ut out his oars and
ulled away as ha. as be com . At the moment he
gid so, ‘And caught 3 lit of him, andsgointing out
Furlong an Dick to 0‘ rady, he shout , “There he
lei—there lie isl—I never murdhered himl There he

is i—stop him! Misther Dick, stopnfor the love of God i"

“What is all this about?" said Furlong, in great
amazement. _

“ Oh, he‘s a process-server," said Dick; “the people
are oing to drown him mafibe.

“ To dwown him?" said Fu longilln horror.“

“If he has luck," said Dick, ” 9 ‘11 only

ve him a
good ducki ' but we had better ave not ngto do
glith it. I Vigil}? tno}; like you to be engaged in one or i

ular 5.
Sales Ogldn't v3ellish it in self,” said Furlong.
“Pull awayé Dick,"fl§ai‘il urphy; “let them kill the
black uard i the l e.
“BEt will the ill him weallyi“ inquired Furlong,

somewhath ' ed.
“’Faith it’s just as the whim takes them “ said
MurPhY; ‘ ut aswe wish to be popular on e hug.
“1138, we must let them kfll as many as they meager.
Andy still shouted 10:3 em; hrtrgebg heard: ‘Mlg.
th rD' k tn ’re oin‘ mu 8 .
‘e‘I’og’= w’etiiiii"gisaid Furlong, with a very uneasy

shudder. ‘
“Ma be ou’d think it right forusto land and res.
cue hid " did Murph . fleeting to putabout’me boat.
“on, yno means, said Furlon . 'You're bettaw
acquainted with the customs of t e countwy than I
#7

am. .

“ Then we’ll row back to dinner as fast as we can,“

said Mu by. “Full away, my heattiesl" and, as he

bent tolfis oars, he an bellowin the Canadian

BoatSOng, to drown Andy 5 roar, and w en he howled—
“ Our voices keep time,“

there never was a more practical burlesque upon the
words; but as he added—
- “ Our oars keep tune,"

mmwhdnmhpmfimpumng,wdlookeg

1

‘Su

fathers. poets

 

 

so lively and florid, that Furlong, chilled by his inactiv-
ity on the water, r nested llliirtough to at him have
an oar to restore Circulation by exercise. Mnrtougli
complied; but the novice had not )iillcd man strokes,
before his awkwardness reducer that won iar efl’out
called “catching a crab, ‘ and a smart )10W upon his
chest sent him iiccls over head under the thwarts of
the boat.

“ Wha-wha-a-t’s that?” gasped Furlong, as he scram-
bled up again.

“ You only caught a crab," said Murtough.

“Good Heaven!" said Furlong, “you don‘t mean tc
sa there are crabs as well as salmon in the wiver?”

‘Just as man crabs as salmon," said Murtougli;
“pull away, my learty.

” Row brothers, row—the stream runs fast,
The rapids are near, and the dayliglit‘s past!"

 

CHAPTER XII.

TEE boats doubled round an angle in the river, and
Andy was left in the hands of Squire O’Grady still
threatening ven reance; but Andy, as long as the cats
remained in Sig it, heard nothing but his own sweet
voice shouting at the top of its pitch, “"he ’re going
to miirdher incl—Misther Dick—~Misther Dick, come
back for the love 0’ (i0di" ' v ’

S “ What are you roaring like a bull for?" said the
u re.

q‘ Why wouldn‘t I roar, sir? A, bull would roar if he
had as much rayson.”

“ A bull has more reason than ever you had, you
calf." said the Squire. A

“ Sure there he is, and can explain it all to you," said
Audafhpointing after the boats. ‘

“ o is there?" asked the squire.

“Misther Dick, and the jiiitlemun I dhruv there.”

“Drove where i“

“ To the Squire‘s."

“ What 3 uire's?"

“ Squire gan's, to be sure.”

_“ Hold our tongue, you rascal; you’re either drunk
still, .or to ling lies. The gentleman I mean wouldn‘t go
to Mister Egan's; he was coming to me."

“That‘s the gintleman I dhruv—that’s all I know.
He was in the shay, and was nigh shootin’ me; and
Mickey Doolin stop ed on the road, when his brother
was m h killed, an towld me to get up, for he wouldn’t
go no urther, when the jintleman objected-"

“ What did the gentleman object to?"

“ He objected to Petber goin‘ into the shay."

“ Who is Peter?" ,

“ Pcther Doolin, to be sure."

“ And what brought Peter Doolin there?"

“ He fell off the horses-”

“ Wasn’t it Mick Doolin you said was driving but a
moment ago?"

“ Wy, air, but that was th’ other shay.”

“ hat other chaise, you vagabond? '

“ Th’ other shay your honor, that I never see at all,
good or bad-0nly other."

“ What diabolical confusion you- are making of the
story. to be sure! There's no use in talking to you here,
I see. Bring him after me " said the Squire to some of
his people standing by. ‘ I must keep him in custody
till tsomething more satisfactory is made out about the
ma ter.

“Sure it's not makin' a premier of me you‘d be?" said

An .

’ “(you hall be kept‘in confinement, you scoupdrel,
till something is heard of this strange gentleman. I’m
afraid he's drowned.”

“ D—l a dhrowned. I dhruv him to Squire Egan’s,
I’ll take my book oath."

“ That's downright nonsense, sir. He would as soon
go into Squire Egan's house as go to Fiddler's Green.”l

“Faith, then. there’s worse places than Fiddler‘s
Green,” said Andy. “ as some people may find out one
0’ these days.“

“I think, boys," said O‘Grady, to
countrymen, “ we must dra the river.
“ Dlira the river if you p use " said Andy; “ but for
the to er mere 0’ Heaven, ( on't dhrag‘me to jail!
By all the crosses n a. yard o’check I dhruv the jintle-
man to Squire Egan’sl—and there he was in that boat

I showed on five minutes a one.”

" Brin im after me,” saii O‘Grady. “The fellow is
drunk still, or forgets all about it‘ I must examine him
 Take him over to the hall, and lock him up till

0 ome. ‘ ,

5‘ Ari-ah sure. your honor," said Andy, commencing
an a peel.

“ you say another word you scoundrel,” said the

uire, shaking his whip at him, “ I‘ll commit you to
ja this minute. Keep a sharp eye after him, Molloy "
were the last words of the Squire to a stout-built
peasant, who took And in charge as the Squire
mounted his horse and rode awa . ‘

Andy was marched off to Nec -or-Nothing Hall; and
in compliance with the Squire's orders, locked up in
the ustice-rooni. This Was an apartment where the
,. in his ma 'istei-ial capacity, dispensed what be
c ed Justice, an what he possib meant to be such;
but poor Justice coming out 0 Squire. O'Grady'fl
hands was something like the little woman in the sons.
who, having her petticoata cut short while she was
asleep; exclaimed on herwakmfii I , ,

“ sure as I‘m a little woman, this is none or 1;"
only that Justice, in they present instance, did not
doubt her identit from her nakedness, but from the
peculiar di-essin g nire O‘Grady bestowed upon her—
she was so mu up in O‘Gradyism that her own

the surrounding

mother (who, b the same token, was Themis) wouldn‘t
know her. Indyeed. if I remember, J ustice is worse 03‘
than mortals ting her parentage; for while there ‘

1.688363th do not know who were their
are in ca

any p gyro uncertain who was Justice‘s mother
—some say Aurora, some say Tlieniis. Now if I might
indulge at this moment in a bit of reverie it would not
be unreasonable to suppose that it is 1 1e classic dis-
position ofi Ireland, which is known to be a very
ancient country, that tends to make the o rations'of
Justice assimilate with the uucertaint 0 her birth.
for her diapensntions they are as dis ‘ ct, asi: they
were the offs ring of two different influences. One
man’s justice not another man’s justice; which, I sup-
pose, in arise 1'er the difference of opinion auto who
and what Justice :5. Perhaps the rich people, who in-
cline to power may venerate Justice more as the child
of Jupiter an Themis- While the unruly ones worshi
her as the daughter of ’I‘itan and Aurora; for undouh

' 'B‘lddler’s Green is sup sad to be situated on thin

(the cooler side) of the ons below.

 

, down

 

 

16

ed] the offspring of Aurora must be most welcome to

“ :-a‘-Da1/ Boys."

We —not to indulge further in reverie—Andy, I say,
was locked up in the justice-room' and as I have been
making all these observations about Justice, a few
words will not be thrown away about the room which
she was supposed to inhabit. Then I must say Squire
()‘Grady di not use her well. The room was a cold,
womfortless apartment, with a plastered wall and an
I :xrthen floor, save at an end, where a raised platform
of boards sustained adesk and one high office-chair.
in other seat was in the room, nor was there any
literal window, the room being lighted from the top,
so that Justice could be in no way interested with the
wountry outside—she could on contemplate her
native heaven through the slry-lig it. Behind the desk

 

“The New York Library.

it was suddenly thrown wide open, and in walked, with
a rapid step and bustling air, an active little gentleman
dressed in black, who was at Mrs.
moment, exclaiming with a very am lble voice and
much empreuke'ment of manner:

“ y dear Mrs. Egan, how do you do? I am deli hted
' oome unbidden to claim the hospi ity of your table.
The fact is, I was making a sick visit to this side of my
l my own dinner, I ad no scruple in ying yours under
‘ contribution." ‘

Now this was the Protestant clergyman of the
parish, whose political views were in o posi-
tion to those of Mr. Egan, but the good

an’s side in it can’t be the person.

to see you. Took afriend’s privilege you see, an have , prove

parish; and flndin it impossible to ret home in time to deuce of Murphy was worth anythin'r.

 

 

 

“To be su‘e I’m not dwowned: but I’m the pe’son."
“ Quite impossiblehsir,” said Mr. Bermingham. “ You
“ Why, sir, do you expect to pe’suade me out of my
own identityl"
“ Oh,“ said Murphy, “ there will be no occasion to
identity till t 1e body is found, and the coroner‘s
in nest sits; that’s the law, sir—at least, in Ireland."
urloiig‘s bewildered look at the unhlushing impu.
While he was
dumb from astonishment, Mr. Bcrming'harn, with ihark
ed olitcness, said, “ Allow me, sir, for a moment to, ex
plain to you. You see it could not be you, for the gen-

, tleman was oing to Mr. ()‘(ii'ruly‘s.”
carts .
,of both men prevented political feeling from inter-i

“ Well, sir, ’ said Furlong, “ and here I am.”
The wide stare of the two "ion as they looked at each

Wnl‘e placed a rude shelf, where some “modern in- l fering, as in Ireland it too often does with the social other was killing; and while Furlong’s face was turned

stances," and old ones too, were lying covered with
dust!and a gunrack, where some carbines with tixed
bayonets were paraded in Show of authoritv; so that
to an imaginative mind, the aspect of the books and
the fire-arms gave the notion of JUSTICE on the shelf,
and Law on the rack.

But Andy thought not of these things; he had not
the imagination which sometimes gives aprisoner a
lassing pleasure in catching a whimsical conceit from

is situation, and, in the midst of his anxiety, an-
ticipatii r the satisfaction he shall have in saying a
good thi 2, even at the expense of his suffering. Andy
only knew that he was locked up in the jllstice~room
for something he never did. He had only sense enough
to feel that he was wronged, without the spirit to wish
himself lighted; and he saunteredu
cold, miserable room, anxiously awaiting the arrival
of “ his honor, Squire O‘Grady,‘ to know what. his fate
might be, and wondering if they would hang him for
upsetting a post-chaise in which a gentleman had been
riding, rather than brooding future means ofi'edress
for his false imprisonment.

There was no window to look out of; he had not the
comfort of seeing a passing fellow-creature—for the
sight of one’s kind is a comfort. He could not even
behold the green earth and the freshness of nature,
which, though all unconsciously, has still a soothing
influence on the uncultivated mind; he had not ‘ but
the walls to look at, and they were blank, save

"1d. there that a burnt stick in the hand of one of the l conduct of every one at the moment of Mr.

{oun O’Gradies emulated the art of 9. Sandwich !
slan er, and sketched faces as grotesque as any Pagan l
=ould desire for his idol; or figures after the old well- i
istablished schoolboy manner, which in the present
lay is called Persian painting: “ warranted to be taught
In three lessons.” Now, this espeaks degeneracy in the
arts; for, in the time we write of boys an girls acquired
the art without an lessons at all, and abundant proofs
)f this intuitive to. out existed on the aforesaid walls.
Na lean and Wellington were fighting a. duel, while
Ne n stood by to see fair in , be having nothing bet-
ter to do, as the battle of ra algar, re resented in the
distance, could, of course, go on Wit out. him. The
anachronism of jumbling Bonaparte, Wellington, and
Nelson together, was a trifle among the _O‘Gradies as
ihe were nearly as rent proficients in lustory, ancient
in modern, as in t e fine arts. Amidst these efforts
)f genius appeared man an old rh inc, scratched With
lusty nails y rustier po icemen, w _ile lounging [in the
justice—room during the proceedings of the great
O’Grady, and all these were gone over again and again
by Andy, till they were worn out, all but one—a. rough
re resentation of a man hanging.
his possussed a sort of fascination for r Andy;
for at last, relinquishing all others, he sto riveted be-
fore it, and muttered to himself “ I wondher can they
han me~sure it’s no inurdher i done—but who knows
wha witnesses they migsht get? and these times the
sware mighty hard; and ‘quire O‘Grady has such a no
0’ blackguards about him, sure he could at anyt n
swore he liked. Oh, wirral wirra! what’l I do at allgl
Faix! I wouldn't like to be hanged—obi look at him
there—just the last kick in him—and a dis co to my
or mother into the bargain. Au hl—but it's a dirty
eath to die—to be hung up like a 0 over a gate, or
an old hat on a pa , just thatra-wayf and he extended
his arm as he spo e, suspending his caubeen, while he
looked with disgust at the effigy. “ But sure they can’t
ha me—though now I remember Squire Egan towld
me orig ago I'd be‘ hanged some day or other. I
wondher does my mother know I‘m tukaway—and
Oonah, too, the craythur, would be sorry for me.
Maybe, if my mother spoke to Squire Egan, his honor
would an a good word or rum—though that wouldn‘t
' do; for h m and Squire O’Grady‘s bittber inimies now,
though they wor once good friends. Och honel sure
that's the way 0’ the world; and a cruel world it is—so
it is. Sure ’twould be well to be out of it a‘most, and in
a betther world. I hope there‘s no po‘cbaises in
heaven!" ‘ ,
The soliloquy of poor Andy was interrupted by a low,
measured sound 0 'thuinpmg, which his accustomed
ear at once distinguished to be the result of churning;
the room in which he was confined being one of a range
of offices stretching backward_ from the principal
building and next door to the dairy. Andyfihad grown
tired by this time of his repeated contemp tion of the
rhymes and sketches, his own thoughts thereon, and
his long confinement: and now the monotonous sound
of the chum-dash falling on his ear, acted as a sort of
hwho,‘ and the worried and weaned Andy at 1331. mm
on the platform and fell asleep to the bumping

lullaby _.
CHAPTER XIII. ' .

Tin: sportsmen, having returned from their fighmg
excursion to dinner, were seated round the hon itable
board of Squire Egan, Mu hy and Dick in big glee,
at still successfully hoodwin 'ing Furlong, and carrying
on their mystiflcation with infinite frolic.

The soup had been removed, and they were in the
act of enJoying the salmon, which had ahead Elven
so much euJoyinent, when a loud knocking at t 8 door
announced the arrival of some fresh guest. '

“ Did you ask any one to dinner, my dear?" inquired
Mrs. Egan of her good-humored lord, who was the very
man to invite any friend he met in the course of the
day and forget it after. .

“. o, my dear,” answered the squire. “Did you,
Dick?" said he.

Dick replied in the negative, and said he had better
go and see who it was; for looks of alarm had been ex-
changed between him. the s sire, and Murphy, lest
an stranger should enter Wit out be ap rised of
thghoax going forward: and Dawson jus reached
We dining-room door on his cautionary mission, when

 

and down the l rguud the table,

l intercourse of life. Still, however, if Dick Dawson had
‘ got out of the room in time, this was not the man to
assist them in covering their hoax on Furlong, and the
scene became excessrvel ludicrous the moment the
reverend entleman m e his appearance. Dick, the
S nire, an Murphy, opened their eyes at each other,
w lle Mrs. Egan grew as red as scarlet when Furlong
stared at her in astonishment as the new-comer men»
tioned her name. She stammered out welcome as well
as she could, and called for a chair for Mr. Iii-ruling-
barn, with all sorts of kind inquiries for Mrs. Bermnig-
ham and the little Berminghams—for the Bcnningham
manufactory in that line was extensive. _ ’

While the reverend gentleman was taking his seat,
3 readm' g his napkin and addressin aword to each

urlong turned to nanny Dawson, be-
side whom he was sitting (and who, by-the-by, could
not resist a fit of laughter on the occasion), and said
with a bewildered look—-

“ Did he not addwess Madame as Mist ess Egan ?"

“ Yeth,” said Faun , with admirable r adiness; “ but
whith er.“ Andas urlong inclined his head toward
her, s is whispered in his ear, “ You muthn‘t mind him
-he’s mad, oor maul—that is, a little inthane—and
thinks ever ady is Mrs. Egan. An unhappy pathion,
poor fellow —-but (mite harmlet ."‘

Furlong uttered a very prolonged “Oh i" at Farm ’s

 

 

.1 soft, monotonous chant the nurses sing to children
Cluduce sleep '

answer to his inquiry, and looked sharply round t e

ere ; table, for there was an indefinable somethino in the

arming-
hain‘s entrance that attracted his attention, and the
name “ E an," and. everybody's fldgetineas (which is the
only wor I can a ply), roused his suspicion. Faun ’3
answer only be. satisfied him' and looking at rs.
Egan, who could not conqgier er confuswn, he re‘
marked “ How “my wed M twess O’G wady gwew l”

“Ohl thee can’t help bluthin , poor soul! when he
thug; ‘ Egan ’ to her, and thinks er his rth love."

“ ow vewy widiculous to be sure,” said Furlong. _

“Haven’t you innothent mad people thumtimes in
England?" said Faun .

‘ Oh newy," said union , “ but this appea's to me so
wema'kably stwa can ab wation."

“0h,” returned army, with quickness, “I thnppose
people go mud on their ruling athlon, and the ruling
pat ’on of the Irish, ou know, s love." _

The conversation this time was going on in other
quarters, and Furlon heard Mr. Bermingham talking
of his havin preach last Sunda in his new church.

“ Suwely, said he to Fanny “ ey would not pe’mit
an insane cle‘ man to pweac ?" . ‘

“0h,” said army, almost snflocatmg With laughter,
“ he only thirtieth he’s a clergyman."

“ How vewy d well you are!" said Furlong.

“ Now you‘re only quithinglme," said Fanny, looking
with affected innocence in t e face of the unfortunate
young gentleman she had been quizzmg most unmerci-
fully the whole day.

” Oh, Miste‘ O‘Gwady," said Furlong, “we saw them
gain to dwown a man to-day.”

“ ndeedl" said the Sfilsllre, reddening as he saw Mr.
Ber-mi ham stare at being called 6’Grady; so, to
cqver t e plot, and stop Furlong, he asked him to take
w ne. .

“ Do they often dwomi people here i" continued Fur-
10 after he had bowed. I ‘

“ ot that I know 0 ," said the Squire. I

“ But are not the lowe’ o'ders wather given to what
Lo’d Bacon calls—J

“Who cares about Lord Bacon?" said Mu by

“My dear sir, you su wise mel" said Fur rig, in ut-
ter amazement. “ Lo Bacon’s sayings—" .

" ’Pon my conscience," said Mugshy. “both himself
and his as are ver rm: by t lme.‘ _

“ Oh, I see iste‘ Mu . ou neve‘ will be sewrous."

“ Heaven forbid!" sai Mur hy—“ at least at dinner,
or qfier dinner. Seriousness only a morning amuse-
ment-it makes a very oor figure in the ev‘enmg,“

“ y-the-liy," said r. Bermmgham talking of
drowning, heard a ve odd story to—day rom
O'Grndy. You and he, I b eve," said the clergyman,
addressing Egan, “are not on as good terms as you
were.

At thls speech Furlong did rather open his eyes the
Squire bummed and hawed. M ‘11 0011811961. rs.
Egan looked into her plate and re '. making a des-

erate rush to the rescue as ed Furlong “Well he DreL

erred a single or a double-barreled gun.

Mr. hermiri ham, perceiving the sensation his nes-
tlon created, t ought he had touched upon fo_rbi den

mid, and therefore did not repeat his question, and
iIf‘li‘if’nny whispered Furlong that one of the stranger s
mad peculiarities was mistakil? one Person f0? ap-
other; but all this did not satis .Fnrlong, whose mis-
glvings as to the real name of s hast were growrng
stronger every moment. At last, Mr. Bermi ham,
without alludi to the broken friendship Be ween
hEgg:d and O’Gra ,retuniegrgo the “odd story he had

ea that morni abou Winn?)-

“ 'Tis a strangenfffair,” said he, ‘ and 0111' Side Of the
country is all alive about it. A gentleman who was
ex ected from Dublin last night at Neck-or-Not rig

. wived. as itis ascertained,_at the villa 8. an
thence took‘a post—chaise, since which time he s not
been heard of; and as a post-chaise was discovered this
morning sunk in the river, close by Ballyslough-
gutthery bridge it is suspected the gentleman has
been drowned either by accident or design. ‘The stil-
hon is in confinement on suspicion, and O G y has
written to the _Castle about it to-day, for the gentleman
was a government em; "

“Wh sir ” said 1' u h tmustbe me!”
y, , said Wham, whose turn it
-- Yes sir,’ said Furlong, “I todk é st—chaise at the
village last night, and I‘m an agent 0 the gove'ment.”
“ But You're not drowned, in ‘--aud he was,” said Ber-
. q, V .

“ You, sir!"
was tobes rised now.

. whic

' enough about

 

ltoward Mr. Berrningham, Fanny caught the clergy-

inan’s eye, to ped her forehead with the fore-fingerol‘
her right han , shook her head, and turned up her eyes
With an expression of pity, to indicate that Furlong
was not %uite right in his mind.

“Oh, I cg pardon, sir,”said Mr. Bermingham. “ I
see it’s a mistake of mine."

“There certainly is a vcwy gweat mistake some-
where,” said Furlon , who was now bent on avery
direct uestion. “ way, Miste' O‘Gwady," said he,
address rig Egan, “ that is, if on are Miste’ O’Gwady,
will on tell me, are you Mistc O‘Gwadyt”

‘ lr ” said the Squire, “ you have chosen to call me

‘O’Graiy ever since you came here, but my name is

Egan.”

‘ What l—the member for the county?" cried Furlong.
horrified. . ,

“Yes ” said the Squire, laughing; “ do you‘want a
frank ?"

“ ’Twrll save your friends‘ postage," said Dick, “when
you write to them to say you’re safe.”

“ Miste’ Wegan," said Furlong, with an attempt at
offended dignity, “ I conside‘ myself ver ill used.’.

“ You're the first man I ever heard 0 being ill used
at Merryvale House," said Murphy.

“Sir, it’s a wievous w‘on r."

“What is a this about?" asked Mr. Bermiugbam.

“ My dear friend," said the Squire, laughing—though
indeed, that was not eculiar to him, for every one
round the table, save he victim, was doing the same
thing (as'for Fanny, she Mouledf—“ My dear friend,
this gentleman came to my house ast night, and I took
him for a friend of Moriart 7’s, whom, I have been ex—
pecting for some days. I a thought, it appears, this
was Neck-or-Nothing Hall, and thus a mutual mistake
has arisen. AllI can say is, that you are. most wel-
come, Mr. Furlong to the hospitality of this houseau
lon as you please. ’ ’

" ut sir, you should not have allowed me to weinain
in you’ ouse ” said Furlong. _

“ That’s a doctrine,” said the S uire, “ in which you
will find it dlfl’lcult to make an Iris host coincide.”

“ But you must have known, sir, that it was not my
intention income to your house.“

‘l‘afilow couldI know that, sir?" said the Squire, 50
on r . .

h ' V . .

y Miste We n— on know—that is—in fact—4
confound it, sir!" saFda Fuiilong, at last. ‘losln bis tem-
per i“ ypu know I told yotiall about our electioneering

ac cs.

A loud laugh was all the response Furlong received
to this outbreak. .

IEV‘Vell, sir,” repeated he, “ Ipwotest it is extremely
11 air."

“You know my dear sir," said Dick, “we Irish arc
such {mar ignorant creatures, according to your own ac
coun , that we can snake no use of the knowledge with
which you have so generously supplied us."

“ You know,” said the Squire, “ we have no real
finesse."

“Sir,” said Furlon , growing snlky, “ there is a cer-
tain finesse that is fa r, and another that is unfair—and
I pwotest againstr" '

‘Pooh, ooh!" said Murphy. “ Never mind trifles.
Just wait t to-morrow, and '11 show you even better
salmon-fishing than you had to-day."

“Sir, no consideration would make me wemain an-
otho’ wower in this lipuse."

Murphy screwed his lips together, puffed out some-
thing e ween awhlstle and the blowing out of acandle,
and ventured to suggest to Furlong he had better wait
even a cou 18 of hours, till he had got his allowance of
claret. “ member the ada e. sir, ‘ In vino veritaa'
and we‘ll tell you all our elec ioueering secrets after
we’ve had enou h wine. " ’

“As soon, iste' Wegan ” said Mr. Furlong, quite
chapfallen, “as you can te me how 1 can get to the
house to which I intended to go, I will be weddy to bid
you cal-evening.“ I .

“ you are determined, Mr. Furlong, to ram here
no longer, I shall not press my hosp talit upon on.
whenever you decide upon gomg, my ca age be
at our service." _

‘ The soone‘ the bette‘, srr," said Furlong, retreating
still further into a. cold and sulky manner.

The s ulre made no further attem t to conciliate him.
he ere y said, “ Dick, ring the be . Pass the claret,

u h .’

The bell was rung—the claret assed—a servant en
tered, and orders were given by t 1e squire that the car
rlage should e at the door as scones ssible. In the
interim, Dick awson, the squire and urphy. laughed
as if nothing had halfiened, and Mrs. Egan conversed
in an undertone With r. Bel-min ham. Fanny looked
mischievmis, and Furlo kept h s hand on the fi at of
his glass, and‘shoved it is. out something in the fashion
of an uncertain chess-player, who does not know where
to ut the piece on which he has laid his finger.

he carriage was soon announced, and Mrs. Egan, ar
Furlong seemed so anxious to go, rose from the table;
and as she retired, he made her a cold and formal bow.
He attempted a tender look and soft word to Fanny— ‘
for Furlong. who thought himself a. beau gamm, had
been playing off his at ractions u it her all day, but
the mischievously-merry Fanny awson, when she
caught the sheepish eye, and heard the mumbled all
lantr of the Castle Adonis, could not_ resrst a ti 1-,
obliged her to hide her dimplmg cheek and
)early teeth in her handkerchief as she passed the
cor. The ladies being gone, the squire asked Furlong
would he not have some more wine before he went.

“No, thank you, Mistc’_Wegan,” replied be, “after
he twicked in the manner that a-—”
“ r. Furlong ” said the squire, “ you have said quite
hat. When on came into my house
last ght, sir I had no inten on of practi nanny 'oke
upon you. You should have had the hospita ’ttglo an,
h-ishinztu‘s bowie, without the consequence t has

 

 

No. 9.

.., ,._.,4

 

('ollowed, had you not indulged in sneering at the Irish-
.iian‘s country, which, to your shame be it spoken, is
l/IIl/l' OIUIL. You vaunted your own superior intelligence
rind finesse over us, sir; and told us you came down to
ivorllirow poor Pat in the l" -l;ery of eleetieiieering
Under these i, l

   

movements. .umstanees, sir, I think l
what We have done is quite l’au'. We have shown you ‘
that you are no match for us in the finesse upon which i
you pride yourself so much; and the next time you,
'Jtik of your counli'ynirm, and attempt to undervalue ‘
‘ilOlll, jusl remember how you have been outwitted at
.ln-riyvale House. (total-evening, Mr. Furlong, 1 he )0 '
to part without owing each other any illrwill.” 'l‘ie
quire Offered his hand, but ls‘urlong drew up, andl,

'uidst sueh cxpletives as “ weally," and “ I must say,” -
m- at last made use of the word “ atwoeious.“ ‘

“ What‘s that you say?" said Dick. “You don‘t ,
upeak very plain, and I‘d like to be sure of the last word l
mu used. ‘

"I mean to say thata ~" and Funlong, not much
liking the /(1m' of Dick‘s question, was humming and
\utwiugasort of explanation of what “he meant to
way," when Dick thus interrupted him:

‘1 tell you this, Mr. Furlong: all that has been done
is my doing— I‘ve humbugged you, sirw/uuribugged.
l've sold you—dead. I‘ve pumped you, sir->111] your ’
-lectioneering bag of tricks, bit/my and all, exposed;
and now go off to ()‘Grady, and tell him how the poor
ignorant. Irish have dorm you; and see, Mr. Furlong," in
iquiet under-tone, “ if there's anything that eitlierhe or
vou don‘t like about the business, you shall have any
satisfaction you like, and as often as you ilease."

“I shall calls/Ida” ol‘ that, sir," said ‘urlong, as he
left the house, and entered the carriage, where he
'hrewliiiuself back in oll’endi-d dignity, and soliloquized
vows of vengeance. hit the bum ting of the carriage
overa rough rend disturbed the p easing reveries of re-
venge, to awaken him to the more probable and less
igreeablc consequences likely to occur to himself for the
olunderhehadmade: for, with all the‘puppy’s self-suffi-
.-iency and conceit, he could not b any rocess of men-
'ul delusion eoueeal from liimsel the act tliathe had
been most tremendously done, and how his party would
lake it wasv‘a serious consideration. O’Grady,another
iiorrid Irish squire—how should be face him .‘I ‘1‘ or a mo-
tueut he thought it better to go back to Dubhn, and he
pulled the oheek-string~the carriage stopped—down
went the front glass. “I say coachman.”

“ I’m not the coaehman, sir."

“ Well, whoever you are—"

“ I’m the groom only, sir; for the coachman was—"

“Sir, I don‘t want to know who you are, 01- about
your affairs; 1 want you to listen to me—cawa’t you
listen?"

“ Yes, sir." ,

“ Well, then -~dwivo to the Village.” . a

“I thought it was to the Hall I was to dhrive, sir.”

" Do what ou’re told, sir—the village!"

“What vilage, sir?” asked Matt, the groom, who
know well enough, but from Fin-lung‘s iin iertinence
[lid not choose to understand anything gratuitously.

“Why the village I came from yeste’day."

“ What village was that, sir?"

“ I-Iow stoopid you are l~the village the mail goes to.”
l“‘t‘5ure the mail goes to all the villages in Ireland,
"if.

“You pwovoking blocklieadl—Good Heavens, how
’ooeid you Iwish arel-the village that leads to Dub-
in

“Faith the all lead to Dublin, sir."

‘“ Confoun you——you must know l—the Lpostin
it 9, you know »—tlin.t is, not the post town, you
‘.v int 8. post town is."

“To be sure I do, sir——\vhero they sell blankets, you
mane." I

“ No—no-uol I want to go to the Village where they
see post-cliuises‘now 'ou know.“ _

“ nix, they have po‘e ayscs in all the Villages here;
there’s no betther accommodation for man or haste m
Lil-3 world than here, sir." ’ _ _

Furlong was mute from downright vekatlon, till his
rage at vent in an oath, another denunciation of Irish
;.tupi ty, and at last a declaration that the driver must
know the villa e. .

“How woul I know it, sir, when you don’t know it
yourself ll“ asked the groom; “ I su ipose it has a name
lo it, alnd if you tell me that, I’ll d irive you there fast
enou i." ,

“IE-annot weinember your howwid names here—it is
it Bal, or Bally, or some such gibbewish—”

Mat would not be enlightened.

“Is there not Dal or Bally something?"

“Oh a pOWer o‘ Bullies, sir- there‘s Ballygash, and
Ballysiash, and Ballysniish, and Ball smash, and—“
we went on Mat, inventgi a lstrmg o Bellies, till he was
sto ed b the (image ur ong. .

“ligone 53‘ thoml Ill-0116 0’ them!" exdalmed be, in a
fur - “ ’tis something about ‘dirt ’ or f mud.‘ "

“Maybe ’twould be gulther, sir,” stud Mat, who saw
Furlong was near the mark and he thought he might
as well make a virtue of telini r him.

“I believe you‘re right “ sai Furlong.

“Then it is Ballyslougiigutthcry you want to go to,
Lill‘. ‘ ,
“That‘s the name i" said Ij‘urlong, snap is ;
"dwive there!" and, hastily pulling up. the g ass, a
threw himself back again in the carnage. Another
troubled vision of what the secretary would say came
across him, and after ten minutes' balancm the non-
tion and trembling at the thoughts of an o eial b ow-
ing up, he thought he had better even yenture on an
Irish squire; so the check-string was again pulled, and
the glass hastily let down.

Mat balm ‘Yes, Sir.” said Mat.

“ I think I’ve changed my mind—dwive to the Hall!"

“I wish you towld me, sir before I took the last turn
—we're nigh a mile toward the vill e now."

“l‘fp mattc‘. 511‘,” Bald Furlong: ‘ dwive where I tell
a on.

I Up went the glass again, and mat turned round the
names and carriage With some dimculty in a narrow
b -roa.d.

yAnother vision came across the bewildered fancy of
Furlong: the certainty of the fury of Gamay—the
immediate contempt as well as agfier attendant on his
being bamboozled—and the res ,at last being the
same in drawin down the secretary s anger. This pro.
duced another 0 e of intention, and he let down the
glass’for the third time—once more changed his orders
.18 counts? as possible and pulled 11? up a 8111.. All
this time at was laughing internally at the ewxlder-
nent of the stranger, and as he turped round the car-
' again he muttered to himself, ‘By this and that,

vil-
now

 

“(9 . . i
u real hard to dhrive as a ig‘ for you ll neither
as road «or th’ other." Hepha'd not pro far,

.

\

g°l

1 Handy Andy.

when Furlong determined to face O’Urad instead of
the Castle, and the last and final order iior another
lurnahout was given. Mat hardly su pressed an
oath; but respect tor his master si’opped him.
The glass of the carriage was not pulled up
this time, and Mat was asked a few questions
about the Hall, and at last about the Squire. Now
Mat had acuteness enough to fathom the cause of Fur-
long'u indecision, and determined to make him as un-
happy as he could; therefore to the question of “ What
sort of a man the m uire was Y" Mat, i'e-echoing the
question, replied: “ 'liat sort of a man, sir i—Fuitb,
he's not a man at all, sir; he’s the devil.”

Furlong pulled up the glass, and cm iloyed the inter-
val between Mat’s answer and reac lil’l" the llall in
liluiflllyl’g up his mind as to how he shou d “face the
( (“'1 .

The carriage, after jolting for some time over a
rough road skirted by a high and ruinous wall, stopped
before a gateway that had once been handsome, and
Furlong was startled by the sound of a most thundering
bell, which the vigorous pull of Mat stimulated to its
utmost pitch; the bayng of dogs which followedqu
terrific. A savage-looking gatekeeper made his a )-
iearanee with a light—net in a lantern, but shaded wit 1
iis tattered hat; many questions and answers ensued,
and at last the gate was opened. The carriage pro—
ceeded up a very ra ’ged avenue, stopped before a be e
rambling sort of bui ding, which even moonlight 0011 d
exhibit to he very much out of repair, and after repeat.
ed knocking at the door (for Mat knew his squire and
the other squire were not friends now, and that he
might be iin udent), the door was unchaiued and un-
barred, and long deposited in Neck—or-Nothiug Hall.

 

CHAPTER XIV.

“Such is the custom of Branksoma Hall.”
—Lay qf the Last Altman].

NEUK- Old-N0 THING HALL.
CANTO 1.

Ten good nights and ten good days
It would take to tell thy ways,
Various, man , and amazing:
Neck-or-Notbing bangs all praising,
Wonders rent and wonders small
Are foun in Neck-orNothing Hall.

Racing rascals of ten a twain,

Who care not a rush for hail nor rain,‘
Messages swiftly to go or to come,

Or duck a taxman or harr a bum,"

0r “clip a server," + did b ithely lie

In the stable parlor next to the sky:
Dinners, save chance ones, seldom had they,
Unless they could nibble their beds of hay-
But the less they got they were hardier --
’Twas the custom of Neck-or-Nothing Hall.

'Osii: lord there sat in that terrible hall;
Two ladies came at his terrible call,
One his mother and one his wife,
Each afraid of her so arate life;
THREE girls who trem led—noun. b0 3 who shook
FIVE times a day at his lowering loo ;
Six blunderbusses in goodly show,
Snvns horse- istols were ranged below,
EIGHT domes ice, rent and small, .
In idlesse did noth ng but curse them all;
Nnui state beds, where no one slept—
Tns for family use were kept:
Dogs ELEVEN with bums to make free,
With a bold THIRTEEN§ in the treasury—
(Such its numerical strength I uess
It can’t be more, but it may he ens.) \
Tar-barrels new and feathers old
Are ready, I trow, for the caitifl' bold

Who dares to invade

The stormy shade

Of the O'Gi'ad
In his hunting hold.

When the iron tongue of the old gate bell
Doth summon the growling lgrooms from cell,
Through crann and croo
They peer and hey look,
With us to send the intruders to heaven]
But w an passwords pass ,1
That h “ serve a. mass, '*

Then bars are drawn and chains let fall
And you get into Neck-or-Nothing Hall:
CANTO n. ‘
And never a doubt

But when you are
If on love awholehh'ldn, ‘
I‘ wager (and win)
You‘ll be glad to get out. ,
-—])r. Grawli ’8 Metric!!! Romances.

The bird’s-eye view which e doctor’s peep from
Parnassus has afforded, may furnlsli‘the imagination
of the reader with matteriailgntrgfczfiegctfi in N tax; fig
ava no at not unJus no -or- o ;
but Eertgn details of the Hull itself. its inmates and its
customs, may be desired by the matter-bf-fact reader
or the more minutely curious, and as the-author has
the difficult task before him of trying to please all
tastes, something more definite is r aired.

The Hall itself was as we have sai , a rambling son
of structure. Ranniymg from a solid center, which
gave the notion of a fonndor well to do in the world,
additions. without any architectural pretensions to fit.
ness, were amok on here and there, as whim or neces.
sity suggested or demanded, and a most incongm
mass 0 gables, roofs, and chimneys, odd window: and
blank walls, was the consequence. Acco to the
circumstances of the occu to who inhe ted the
property, the building was e that increased or neglect-
ed. A certain old bachelor, for example, who in the
course of events inherited the property; had no neces.
sity for nurses, nursery-maids. and air consequent
suite of apartments; and as he never aspired to the
honor of matrimony the ball-room, the dra -room,
and extra bed-chambers were neglected; but ‘ a
fox-hunter, a. new kennel and range of stables were
built, the dining-er enlargfidi and all the ready
" A facetioustfihrase for bailiff, so often kicked,
i Cut ‘ on e ears of a process-server, .

l .
in o , so called from its being worth thirteen
pence in thoseda a.

isnot theywordintheMS. ‘
Serving'mass occupies about minty-five minutes.

 

ous‘

 

"l. “7

moneylieeouldgct at spent in augmenting the plate,
to keep pace with the racing-cups be “on, and proudly
displayed at his drinking-bouts; and when he died sud-
denly (broke his neck), the plu‘e “as Hi‘ilit‘li at the suit
of his Wine-iliel‘ciiilllt; and us theheirnext in succession
got the property in a ruinoi ‘ rendition, it was impos~
sible to 'copa stud of horses along with a wife and a
large family, so the stables and kennel Went to decay,
while the ladies and family apurluu-nrs could only in
patched u ). When the house was dilapidated, ti.-
gi‘ounds a iout it, of course, were ill lie >l. Fine old;
trees were there, originally inh-uded to allerd shade tr
walks which Were so uegleetnl or. Lo be no more wall I
able than ally other part of the. giouuds the vista t .
aspiring stems indicated where an avenue had been,
but ueithcrhoe nor rolling-stone had, for many a car,
checked the growth of grass or weed. So inuei for
the outside of the house: now for the inside.

That had witnessed many a thoughtless, expensive.
headlong and iraseiblz- master, but never one more so
than the present owner; added to which, he had the
misfortune of being unpopular. ()tlier men, tlioughip
less, and headlong, and irritable as he, iillli lived and
had friends; but there was something about ()‘Grad
that was felt, perhaps, more than it could be (iI‘iillCl ,
which made him uiipleltsi[lg—Berlitth the homely

hrase “cross-grainex ” may ‘t express, it, and

‘Grady was e ientially a en, 4-grained man. The
estate, when he not it, was pretty heavily saddled, .und
tilt? “galled jade“ did not “\vinee" the less for his
ri mg.

A good juinture to his mother was chargeable on the
property, and this was an excuse on all occasions for
he Squire’s dilatoi'y payment in other quarlers. “ Sir,"
he would sa , “my mother‘s jointure is 511617341th is
more than 1. ie estate ea wcll bear, it is true, but itis a
sacred claim, and I wouiil sooner sacrifice my life, my
honor, sir, than see that claim neglectedl" Now al
this sounded mighty fine, but his mother could new-r
see her jointure regularly paid, and was obliged to live
in the house with him: s ie was somewhat of (m oddity,
and had apartments to herself, and, as long as she was
let alone, and allowed to read romances in uict, did
not com lain; and whenever a stray ton-puun note did
fall into er hands, she gave the greater part of it to
her younger grand—daughter, who was fond of flowers
and plants, and supported a little consen'atory on her
grandmother‘s bounty she laying the tribute of a bou-
quetto the old ladv when he state of her botanical

ros erity could afford it. The eldest girl was a favor-
teo an uncle, and lte)’ passion being (logs, all the
presents her uncle made her in money were converted
into canine curiosities; while the youngest girl took an
interest in the rearing of pouliry. Now the boys, va. -
ingm age from eight to fourteen, had their scpnra e
favorites too—one oved bull-dogs and terriers, another
game-cocks, the third ferrets, and the fourth rabbits
and pigeons. These multifarious tastes 'i'odueed
stran eresults. In the house, flowers and pants, in-
dicating refinement of taste and costliness, were strong-
ltycontrasted with broken plaster, soiled hangin s, and
aded paint; an ex wnsive dog might be seen upping
cream out of a shah v broke-n plate; a never-ending so

uence of wars raged among the dependent favorites;
t ebull-do sand terriers chopping up the ferrets the,
ferrets killin r the game-cocks. the gumoeoeks killing
the tame pou try and rabbits, and the rabbits destroyu
lngthe garden assisted b the flying reserve of pigeons.
It was a sort oi Irish reta 'alion, so amusineg exempli-
fied in the nursery jingle—

The water began to quench the lire,

The fire began to burn the stick, '
The stick begun to beat the dog, '
The dog began to bite the kid.

In the midst ’of all these distinct and clashing tastes,
that of Mrs. O‘Grady (the wife) must not be forgotten;
her weak point was a feather bed. Good soull anxious
that WhOth-r slept under her roof should lie softly, she
wouldgo to the furthest corner of the county to se-
cure an accession to her favorite property—and such a.
collection of luxurious feather beds never was seen in
company with such rickety bedsteads and tattered and
Iuildewed curtains, in rooms uncai'peted, whose pa or
was dropping oi? the wall—well might it be ca ed

per-hanging indeed l—whose washing-tables were of
cal, and whose delf was 01' the lamest ware, and even
that minus sundry handles an spouts. Nor was the
renowned O'Grady without his hobby, too. While the
various members ofhis family were thwarting each
other, his master-mischief was thwarting them all'
like some wickel ' ‘ nt looking down on a squabble of
dwarf and end be light by kicking them all right
and lo . Then he had his tioop of etc, wooidle black-
who were slingeing‘ about he place‘eternally,
eeping up a sort of “ cordon sanitairo, ‘ to prevent the

 

 

t

 

 

. pestllentlal presence of a bailiff, which is so catching

and turns to jail fever, a disease which had been .fatul
tile “mull O‘Grady never ventured be and his do-
main except on the back of a fleet liorso—~' are he felt
secure; indeed, the place he most dreaded legal as-
sault was his own house, where he apprehended
trickery might invade him: a carriage no it be but a.
ten“: and hence the great circumspection n the open-

of doors. ' _ _
mm the nature of the estabhshnient, thus hastily
sketched, the reader will see _what an ill- luted
iumble it was. The master, in dillienlties, bad sorder-
y people lian ring about his place for his monal se-
curity- fromt one very ople his boys pl ed up the
love u do fights, coc '-&§hts, etc; and they, from the
fights of heir pets, fought among themselves, and
were always fighting with their sister-s; so the reader
see the “metrical romance" was not overcharged

in its rh on on Neck-01"NOEIIIEE H

Whenlg‘iiriong entered the n ,he gave his name to
a. queer-looking servant, with wild, scrubby hair, a
dirty face, a tawdry livery, worse for wear, which had
manifestly been made fora. larger man, and hub upon
its present possessor like a coat upon a clothes orse;
nis cotton ‘ s, meant to be white, and clumsy
shoes meant to be lack, met each other half-way and

is lit the difference in a pleasing neutral tint. Leaviu

rlong standing in the rail, he cluttered up—stairs, an
a dialogue ensued between master and man so loud that
Furlong could hear the half of it, and his own namein
a tone of doubt, With that of “ Egan," in a tone of sur-
prise, aml  of his “sable majesg" in a tone of
511% rap: succeeded one ano er; then such
bro words and sentences as these ensued—“fudgel
—humb l—rucally trick l—eh i—by the hokey, they’d
better 8 carol—put the Scoundrel under the pumpl"
Furlong more than half suspected that it was to him

*An  expressive of lounging laziness.

 

‘15:?


it?
it
it?
is
it


 

§i%::;s.'v ..

 

—:.—.:¢E
.“'?...-. ,.._ ..



 

 

 

 

l I

r been

., claimed, “ Now, did I dhrowncd you, sir—did I?

 

‘1 8

 

this delicate attention was intended, and began to feel
uncomiortulilc; llCl-i.."tl'1>(*nt‘(l his cars to their keciiest
hearin, but there was a lull in the conversation, and
hopeu t ascertain 0111' of the gentler sex was engaged
in it b the ogre—like voice uttering, “Fudge, woman!
—fldd c-de-dccl" Their liecauglit the word, “perhaps,”
and “ '(‘lltlenlall," iii a lady‘s voice; then out thunder-
cd, “t rat rascal’s carriagel—why come in that?—
friendl—huinbugi—rascal‘s carriagclwtar and feather
him, by this and that l"

Furlong began to feel very uncoiiil’nrtahle; the con-
versation ended; down came the servant, to whom Flir-
lon was about to address hiiiiscli", when the man said.
“ e would be with him in a ininit," and vanished; a
sort of reconnoiteriiig party, one by one, then passed
through the hall, eyiiig the stranger very suspicrously,
any of them, to whom Furlong ventured a. word,
scurrying off in double-quick time. For an instant he
meditateda retreat, and, looking to the door, sawa
heavylclimn across it, the izittcrn of which must have

ad from Ncwgatc. e attempted to unfasten it,

and as it clanked heavily, the ogre’s voice from up-

gtairsynbellowed: “Who the d—l’s that opening the
ear

Furlong’s hand dropped from the chain, and a low

wling went on up t c staircase. The servant whom

e first saw returned.

'“I fear," said Furlong, “ there is some misappwehen-
non."

" A what, sir ‘1“

“ A misappwohension. ”

” Oh, no, Siri it’s oiil a mistake the master thought
you might be making;
maybe, sir?”

“Oh, iio—I watlterthink he mistakes me. Will you
do me the favo’," and he produced a packet of papers
as he spoke—“ the favo' to take my cwedentinls to Mr.
O’Gwady, and if he throws his eye over these pa e’s—“

At the word “ pa ers " there was a shou from
above, “Don’t tour: 1 them, you thief, don‘t touch
thch—another bli;4ter,~hai ha! By the ‘teriial this
and that, I’ll have him in the horse-pondi” A heavy
stamping overhead ensued, a furious ringing of bells;
in the midst of .the din, a very pale lady came down~
stairs, and pointing the way to a. small room, beckoned
Furlong to follow her. For a. moment he hesitated, for
his heart inisgaveliim; but shame at the thought or
doubting or refusing the summons of a lady overcame
his fear, and he followed to a little parlor, where mutual
explanations between Mrs. O’Grady and himself, and
man messages, questions, and answers, which she
carried up and down stairs, at length set Furlon ’s
mind at ease respecting his personal safety, and finally
admitted him into the presence of the truculent lord of
the castle—Who, when he heard that Furlong had been
staying in the enemy‘s camp, was not, it may be so

osed in a sweet tern er to receive him. O’Gra y

ooked thunder as Fur ong entered, and eying him

keenly for some seconds, as if he were taking? mental
as well as an ocular measurement of him, saluted
him with:

“ Well, sir, a pretty kettle of fish you’ve made of this.
I ho you’ve not blabbed much about our affairs 7"

“ ‘ 1y, I weally don’t know——I’m not sure—that is, I
won‘t be positive, because when one is thwown oi! his
guard, you _know—” ~

“ Pooh, air! a man should never be offhis guard in an
election. But how the d—l, sir, could you make such a
thundering mistake as to go to the wrong house?"

“ It was a howwid posti lion, Miste’ O’Gwady.”

“The scoundrell" exclaimed O’Grady, stamping up
and down the room.

At this moment a tremendous crash was heard; the
ladies jumped from their seats; O’Grady paused in his
rage, and his poor, pale wife exclaimed——

' ‘l‘is in the conservatory.“

A universal rush was now made to the spot and there
was Handy Andy, buried in the ruins of ower-pots
and exotics, directly under an enormous breach in the
glass roof of the building. How this occurred a few
words wrll explain. Andy, when he went to also in
the justice-room, slept soundly for some hours, ut
awoke in the horrors of a dream, in which he fancied
he was about to be hanged. Soiniprosscd was he b '
the visron, that he determined on making his esca e if
he could, and to this end piled the chair u n the esk,
and the volumes of law books on the chair, and, being
'an active fellow, contrived to scramble up high
can h to In his .lh'nld on the frame of the sky-light,
andt usma '9 his way out on the roof. Then walk-
ing,as well as the darkness would permit him, alon
the coping of the wall, he approached, as it chancedg
the conservatory; but the coping being loose, one of
the fin 3 turned under Andy’s foot, and bang he went
throng i the glass roof, carrying down in his fall some
score of {lower-pots, and finally stuck in a tub, with his
legs 11 ward, and einbow'ered in the branches of
crush geraniums and hydruri'veas.

He was dragged out of tho tu , amidst a shower of
curses from O’Urady; but the moment Andy recovered
the few senses he had, and. saw Furlong, mgardlesg of
the anathemcs of tho squire, lidsuouted out “There
he is l—thero he is!" and rushing toward ex.
éure,

o thinks you mistuk the house,

‘I never murdhered you i"

’Twas as much as could be done to keep O'Grady’s
hands 011 Andy, (on smashing the conservatory, when
Furlong's presence made him no longer habie to “n.
prisoninent. - .

“Maybe he has a vote," said Furlong, anxrous to dis.

lay how much he was on the qui tire in election mat-

rs.

“Have you a vote, you rascal?“ ”

"You may s’arch me if you like, your honor, said
Andy, who thought a vote was some sort of property
he was suspecte of stealing. ,

“ You are either the biggest r0 8 or the biggest 5001
J ever met,” said O’Grady. “ VV "ch are you now?

“ Whichever your honor plazas," said Andy.

“If‘I forgive you, will you stand by me at the elec-
tion?’

“ 13% stand anywhere your honor bids me,” said Andy,
hum '.

“That’s a thorough-going rogue, I’m inclined to
think,” said O’Grad . aside to long. _

“ He looks «more a a fool in my appwehensron,”
was the reply.

“ 01:, these fellows conceal _the deepest rogue
sometimes under_an assumed Simplicity. You don is
un tand the Irish.”

“ nde’standi" exclaimed Furlo ' “IPwonounoe the
whole countwy uite incompwhensi el’ ,

“ Well i“ grow edO’G rady to Andy, after a moment's
wander), “ go down to the 'itchen, you house-

n: vag'zbcnd. and get your supper l"

“The NewhYork Library.

I Now, considering the "fee, faw, fuin" qualities of

j 0’(i‘rady the reader may be surpris \d at the easy inan-
neriii which Andy sli pod through his finger, after
I having slipped througl: the roof of his conservatory;
but as between two stools folks fall to the ground, so
, between two ragesdpeo le sometimes tumble into safety.
O‘Grady was in a. ivi ed passion—first his wrath was
: excited against Furlong for his blunder, and just as that
I was about; to explode, the crash of Andy’s sudden a )-
pearance amidst the flower-pots likea ractical par y
on "Love union the roses ’) ca ed 0 the gal:
storm in anew irection. and the fur sumcieiit to an-
nihilate one, was, by dispersion, harm es»; to two. But on
the return of the rt from the conservatory, after
Andy’s descent to itchon O’Grad ‘s rage against
Furlong, though moderated, iad sett ed down into a.
very substantial dissatisfaction, which he evinced b
poking his nose between his forefiri er and thumb, as if

e meditated the abstraction of t at salient feature
from his face, shufflinfinhis feet about, throwmg his
right leg over his left cc, and then suddenly, as if
that were a mistake, throwing his left over the ri ht
thrumming on the arm of his chair with his cleric ied
hand, inhaling the air very audibly through his pro-
truded lips, as if he were sugping hot soup, and all the
time fixing his eyes on the re with a portentous gaze,
as if he would have evoked from it a salamander.

Mrs. O’Grady in such a. state .of aflairs, Wishing to
speak to the stranger, yet anxious she should say
nothing that could bear upon immediate circumstances
lest she might rouse her awful lord and master, racked
her invention for what she should say; and at last,
with “bated breath " and a very worn-out smile, fal-
tered forth:

“ Pray, Mr. Furlong, are you fond of shuttlecock?"

Furlong stared, and began a, reply of “Weally, I
cawnt say that—”

When O'G rady gruflly broke in with, “ You’d better
ask him, does he love teetotum.”

“ I thought on could recommend me the best estab-
lishment in t e metro olis, Mr. Furlon , for buying
shuttlecocks," continue the lady, unmin ul of the in-
terru tion.

“ ou had better ask him where you can get mouse.

trrflis,”growled O’Gradny.

rs. ’Grady was s‘ ent, and O’Grady, whose rage
had now assumed its absurd form of ta ' g changes,
continued, increasing his growl, like a @86me on the
double-bass, as he prooeeded: “You’d better ask, I
think—mouse-traps-—steel-traps—clap-traps— rat-traps
—ratt1e-traps—rattle-snakes l’

Furlong stared, Mrs. .O’Grady was silent, and the
Misses 0 Grady cast fearful side orig glances at “Pa,”
whose strange irritation always bespoke his not being
in what good people call a “sweet state of mind;" he
laid hold of a tea-spoon, and be an beat! a tattoo on
the mantel-piece toa low smo cred wh 51213 of some
vc obscure time which was suddenly stopped to say
to < rlong, ve abrupt : 9 ‘

“SoEgandl died on " .

“Why, he certs. y, as I conceive, pwacticed, or I
might say, in short—he—a—in fact-—"

‘ Oh, yes,” said O'Grady, cutting short Furlong’s
humming and hawing; “ oh, yes, I know—diddled you."

Bang went the spoon again, keeping time with another
string of nonsense. “Diddled you—diddle, diddle, the
cat and the fiddle, the cow jumped over the moon—who
was there i"

“ A Mr. Dawson.” .

“ Phewi" ejaculated O’Grady with a doleful whistle;
“ Dick the Devill You are in nice hands! All up With
us-«Bp with us—

pv up) “pi
And here we (go down, down. down, derry down!
Oh, murtherl" an the spoon went faster than beforei

“ Arfl't else?”

“ ister ermingham."

“Be ' haml’ exclaimed O'Grady.

“ A cle‘gyman, I think,” drawled Furlon .

“ Bermingliani l" reiterated O’Grady. “ at business
has be there, and be—i" O’Grady swallowed a curse
when he remembered he was a do 'man. “The

Oh, ermingham,

enem ’s cam not his riuci lesl
Benign ham I—)—-Bri'rrima§cm, Ilai‘ummagem, Sheffield,
onlver' pton—murtherl Any one else? Was Durfy
t are?

“ No," said Furlong; “but there was an old pe‘son,
whose name mes to his—as you seem fond of wymes,
Mister O‘Gwa .”

“What!” and O’Grady, quickly, and fixing his eyes
on Furlon : “Murphy?

“ Yes. 'ste’ Mufly."

O'Grady gave a more doleful whistle than before
and be. ng the spoon faster than ever, exclaiin
again, “ Iurphyi—t en I’ll tell you whats: is- do you
see that?” and he held up the spoon before Furlong,
who, being asked the same question everal times, con-
_ lessee he (31% same spoon. “‘1‘ Theiidgli gelleygtiguwtllilag
'it is ‘ sai ' y sin, won a
for the election;” andfgvith a disdainful jerk, he threw
the spoon into the fire, after which he threw himself
back in his chair with an appearance of so, while
he glanced fiercely up at the cei , and in ul ed in a.
very low whistle indeed. One of 9 girls sto e softly
round to the fire and out] took 1.1 the tongs to re-
00ver the spoon; it in e a sham: ratt e, and her father
turned smart round, and sai , “ Can't you’let the fire
alonei—there 5 coal enough on it; the devil burn ’em
all—Egan, Murphy, and all 0’ them! What do you
stand there for, with the to in your,hand5. like a
hairdresser, or it stuck pig? tell you, I In 8-9 hot as a
lune-an; go out 0’ that. ’

,The daughter retired, and the spoon was left to its
fate; the ladies did not dare to utter a. word; O‘Grady
continued his gaze on the ceiling and his whistle; and
Furlong very uncomfortable and much more aston-
‘Shed, after sitting in silence for some time though: a,
retreat the best move he could make, and intimated his

“his” 3%“ sugg sted it t 1
. ' rad e was 9 ear y;
which Furlongyacgieigw edg , but pleaded mi; extreme
fatigue after a. day of great exertion.

“ Wmhu were canvassing," said O'Grady, with

a wick , .-

“ 92' not: the c3uid sca’cely pwesume 3'1 such
a t'3l'iilii'iaiigwimit’rlinward think—em in?!” pwmnw

a
:thalmafig- cl if“ "you? hisfl
ex med 0‘ 0 an em" 95

and turning suddenl rouggdx'sfimggflshingl 9";
the d—l were you on-fl i"

“ In the .wiver, close by here.‘ .

The ladies now all stared; but Furlon advanced a
v ement assurance in answer to theiifiooks of wor-

/

 

r, that he had taken some very fine salmon indeed-

iering ‘

W wr~m~w

 

 

 

Vol. I.

The girls could not suppress their laughter; and
O'Grad , casting a look of mingled rage and contem t
on the lslierrnan, merely uttered the ejaculation “O i,
Moscsl” and threw himself back in his chair; but start-
intr up a moment after, he run the bell violently.
“ What do you want, my dear?" said his poor wife, ven~
timing to lift her eyes, and speaking in the humblest
tone——“ what do you want?"

“Some broiled bones l” said O’Grady, very much like
an ogre; “ Iwant something to settle my stomach after
what I‘ve heard, for, by the powers of ipecacuanha, ’tis
enough to make a horse sick—sick, by the powerslm
shivering all over like a dog in awet sack. I must hthi
broiled bones and hot much!”

The servant entere< , and O’Grady swore at him. fcr
not coming sooner, though he Was really expeditions
in his answer to the bell. .

“ (forifound your lazy bones you’re never in time.”

“ ’Deed, sir; I came the miiut I heerd the bell."

“Hold your tonguel—who bid you talk? The devil
fly awa with youi—and you’ll never go fast till he
does. ake haste now—go to the cook—“

“ Yes, sir."

“Curse you! can’t you wait till you get your mes.
sage? Go to the devil'with 'oul—get some brorlcd
bones—hot water and tumb ers—don’t forget the
whisky—and pep er them well. Mind, hob—everything
hot—screeching 01;. Be off, now, and make haste—
niind make hastel”

“ es,_ sir,” said the servant, whipping out of the
room With celerity, and thanking Heaven when he had
the door between him and his savage master. When
he got to the kitchen, he told the cook to make haste
if ever she made haste in her life, “for there‘s owltl
Danger up stairs in the divil‘s temper, God bless us!"
said Mick.

“Faix, he‘s alwa s that," said the cook, scurrying
across the kitchen r the gridiron.

“Oh! but he‘s beyant all to-night,” said Mick; “I
think,he’ll niurther that chap up stairs before he
sto s. ‘

“pOh, wirra! wirral” cried the cook; “ there’s the fire
not bright, bad luck to it, and he wantin" a brilel"

“Bright or not bright," said Mick, “ make haste I‘d
advise you, or he'll have your life."

e bell rung violently. ' .
him tattherln’i” said Mick,

“There, (10 you hear
rushing up stairs.
ought it was tay they wor takin’,” said Larry
Hogan, who was sitting in the chimney-corner, smok-

‘5 I t
mg.

‘80 the are,” said the cook. _

“ Then suppose, broiled bones'is geneetl.”

“ Oh, n0' it’s not for tay, at all, the want them; it‘s
only ould Danger himself, Whenever 9’s in a rage, he
ates br’iled bones.”

“ Faith, they are a brave cure for anger," said Larry;
“ I wouldn’t be angry myself, if I had one."

Down rushed Mick, to hurry the cook—bang, twang-g!
went» the bell as he spoke. ‘ 0h listen to h m l" s d
Mick: “ for the tendher mercy o' Ileaven, make haste l”

The cook transferred the bones from the gridiron to
a hot dish.

“ 0h, murther, but they’re smoked!“ said Mick.

" No matther," said the cook, shaking her red elbow
furiously; “I’ll smother the smoke with the pepper—
there l~—give them a good dab 0’ mustth now, and
sarve them hot!” ‘

Away rushed Mick, as the bell was rattled into fits

a sin.

fivmm the cook had been broiliiig bones for O'Grady
below, he had been grilling Furlong for himself above;
In one of the pauses of the storm, the victim ventured
to suggest to is tormentor that all the mischief that
had arisen might have been avoided if O’Grady
met him at the village, as he re seats of him in one of
his letters. ’Grad denied knowledge of such a.
re nest, and after some queries about certain ortions
of he letter, it became mamfest it had misca. ed.

“There!” said O‘Grady; “there’s a second letter
astray; I’m certain they pu my letters astray on pur-
ose. There’s a lot in t ,e post-oer a ainst me; b
his and that, I'll ave an inquiry. I wis all the pos
offices in the world were blown up; and all be post-
masters hanged, ostmaster- choral and all— do—by
the ’ternul war, do—and a the mail coaches in the
world ground to owder, and the roads they 0 on into
the bargain—7deyy l a use in them but to carry ad news
over the universe—for all‘the letters with any ood in
them are lost; and If there’s a money inclosure one,
that‘s sure to be robbed. Blow the post-office, I say—
blow it, and sink it I" .

It was at; this moment Mick entered with the broiled
bones, and while he was in the room, placing glasses on
the table and making the necessary arrangements for
making ‘screeching liot phunch,” he heard O’Grady
and Furlong talking about 9 two lost letters.

on his descent to the kitchen, the cook was spreading
a bit of supper there, in which Andy was to join, be
having just completed some applications of brown

per and vinegar to the bruises received in his fall.
Err-y Hogan, too. was invited'to share in the re 1:;
and it was not the first timc, by many, that
quartered on the squire. Indeed, many a good larder
was opened to Larry Hognan- be held a. very deep in-
terest in the regards of the female domestics over
the country, not on the strength of his personal charms,
for had a hanging ll , a snub nose, a low fore~
head, a. ge ugly head, w 058 scrubby, grizzled hair
firew round the crown in the form of a priest’s tonsure.

of. on the strength of his gallantry, for was al-
Wfifis talking ‘morality an making sage re ections,
w e be supplied the womankiiid with bits of lace rolls
of ribbon, and now and then silk stockings. He ways
had someplausible story of how they happened to ,’
oomein his way; for Larry was not a regular peddlcr:
carrying no box, he drew his chance treasures from
the recesses of yery deep pockets contrived in various
parts of his attire. No one asked Larry how he came

y such a continued supply of natty articles, and if they
had, Larry would not have told them' for he was 3 ve ,
“close ” man, as well as a “civil-s en,” under whi ~
character he was first introduced the reader on the
memorable night of And ‘5 destructive adventure in his
mother‘s cabin. hogan was about as shrewd a
fellow as any in the whole country, and while rno’one
could exactly make out what he was, or how he made
the two ends of his ages: meet he knew nearly as much
of every one's airs as they did themselves in
the hrase or the country, he was “as 'cute as a ox,
as c ose as wax, and as deep as a draw-well.” ’

The supper- rtysat down in the kitch and be-
tweenbfive. ee mouthfuls poor Mick 00
was 0

i

t he
to canterup—stairs at the call of the M .
V ‘llUB'be I Ever and anon. as he returned. hebolted \

.3.__.4._c_ .. .. ..

 

.. .___,_ u. .

“

 

No. 9.

 

 

.

allowance with an ejaculation, sometimes pious, somu- ,

:imes the, reverse. on the hard fate of attending such a. ‘
‘ born devil," an i- called the squire.

“ Why he's worse nor ever to-ni *ht " so s the cook.
” What ails him at all—what is it n l a )Olll "

“ Oli, he’s liliurkguurdiii‘ iiud lilustin' away about
but quzire, slink-lookin‘ chap, lip-stairs, goin‘ to Squire
uLgan‘s instead of comin‘ lli'l‘t'.”

“That was a bit 0’ your handy work," said Larry,
with a grim smile at Andy.

“And then," said Mick, “he's swearin’ by all the
-uurthers in the world agcii the, whole couniliry, about
ionlic .lctthers was stole out of the post-office by some— 1
am y.

Andy’s hand wns in the act of raising a mouthful to
his lips, when these words were uttered; his hand fell,
'llld his mouth remained open. Larry Hogan had his
Wye on him at the moment.

“He SWIll‘CS he’ll have some one in the body 0‘ the
jail,” said Mick; “and he’ll never stop till he sees them
:swmg.

Andy thought of the effigy on the wall, and his dream,
and grew pale.

“ By the hokcy,” said M ick, " I never see him in sitch
:i tattherin' m rc!”~—bung went the hell again—“Ow,
owl" cried Mic ,bolting a piece of fat bacon, wiping
his mouth on the sleeve of his livery, and running up-
:ituirs.

“Misses Cook, mu’ani," said Andy, shoving back his
chair from the table; “thank you, mn‘ani, for your
good Sllppirl‘. I think I‘ll be g‘oin‘ now.”

“Sure, you‘re not done yet, man alive.“

“ Enough is us good as a feast, ma‘nm," replied

 

And .

“gughl sure the morsel you took is more like a fast
then a. feast," said the cook, “ and it’s not Lent.”

“It’s not. lent, sure enough,“ said Larry Hogan,
with a Si grin; “it’s not Jeni, for en gave it to him."

“Ah, listhcr Hogan, you’re aways goin‘ on with
your conuiidherums," said the cook' “ sure that’s not
the lent I mane zit all—I mime Good riday ent.”

“ Fuix, every Friday is good Friday that a. man gets
his Wiley,” said Larry. _

“ e l, on will be goin’ on, Misther Hogan “ said the
cook. “ h, but you‘re a. witty man; but 'I‘d rather
have a yard of your lace, any day, than a mile 0' your
discourse." .

“Sure, you ought not to mind m om” on, when
you‘re lettin’ another man 0 , t u -a-way,’f staid
Larry, inting to Andy, who, hit in hand, was quitting
the kite en. .

“Faix an' he mustn’t go,“ stud the cook; “there’s
two words to that bargain;” and she closed the door,
and ut her back against it. _

“ mother’s expectin‘ me, ma’am," said Andy.

“TKroth, ilf‘t. was our wife was expectin’ you. she
must wait a l'iit,” said the cook; “sure you wouldn’t
leave the thirsty curse on my kitclien?——you must take
:l. dhrop before you go; besides the dogs outside the
place would lite you onless there was some one they
knew along will you; and sure, if a. dog bit you you
couldn’ dliriiik wather aftlier, let alone a. dhro J o‘ eer
ir a. thriiic 0‘ spei"ts: isn't that tlirue, Misther ogan?“

“Indeed un‘ it is, nia’am," answered Larry; “no one
can dhrink afther a. dog bites them, and that’s the
"Izzyson tliet the liirn’d fackletics calls the disuise high-

r1—

“ igh-dh what?" asked the cook.

“That‘s w at I'm thiiikin‘ of," said Larry.
llh —high-dhry——somethin ."

“ ere‘s high-dhry snuff, said the cook. _

“Oh, no—no, no, ma’aml" said Larry, wavi his
hand and shaking his head, as if unwxlling to be ter-
rupted iii endeavoring to recall

“some fleeting reiiiembrance;” _
“high-dliry—po—po—-soniething about p0; faith, it"s
not unlike popery,” said Larry. _ I

“Don’t sa pope ," crie the cook; “it’s a dirty
Woé‘gl” Say oman ‘atholic when you spake of the
i’ai .

“ Do you think I would undhcrvalue the faith i" said
Larry, castin up his eyes. “ Oh, Missis Mulli an, you
know little 0 me; d'you thing I would und ervalue
what is my hope, as , present, and to coniel—what
makes our hearts ght when our lot is heavyi—what
makes us love our nei hbor as ourselves?"

“Indeed, Misther 0 an," broke in the cook “I
never knew any one ton er of calling in on a. neighbor
than ourself, particular] about dinner-time—"

“ but makes us," sci Lsrry, who would not let the
rock interrupt his outpouring of pious eloquence—-
“what makes us fierce inlproslpcrity to our friends, and
meek in adversit to our mimics?"

“Ohl Misther hogan!” said the cook, blessing her-
self.
“What puts the leg undhcr you when you are in
throuble? wh , your faith: what makes you below
desait. and ii ove reproach, and on neither side of
uothin‘?" Larry slapped thetuble like u. r_ime min—
ister, and there was no opposmon.‘ “Oh, issis Mul-
1 an, do you think I would desaive or bethruy my
to low-crayture? 0h no—I would not wrong the child
unbom,"—a.nd this favorite phrase of Larry (and other
rascals) was. and is, unconsciously, true; for people,
most generally, must be born before they can be much

wronged. . _

“0 , Missls Mulligan," said Larry, With a devotional
up of his eyes to the ceiling, “ he at war with sin,
an you‘ll be at puice with yourself 1” _

Just as Larry wound u his ions peroration, Mick
shoved in the door, ains ,whicfi’i the cook sup cited
herself, and told An Iii'thc Squire s‘aid he sho d not
leavethe hall that n' t.

Andy looked a has .

A am Larry ogan‘s eye was on him.

“ ure lean come back here in the momin’," said
Andy, who at the moment he spoke was conscious of
vhe intention of being some forty miles out of the place
before dawn, if he could get away.

“When the Squire sa Snthmg. it must bedone,"
raid Mick. “ You must 8 cep here.”

“And pleasant dhrames todiVOu,” said Larry, who
raw Andy wince under his kin y-worded stab.

“ And where must I sleep?” qsked Andy, dolefully.

“ Out in the big loft," sa d Mick. “ , I

“I’ll show you the wa ,” said Larry I m goin’ to
sleep therein self to-nig t for it woud be too far to
{:0 home. od-night, Mrs. Mulligan-goodnight,
Mickey—come along, Andy.“

Andy followed Hogan. They hurl to cross a yard to
reach the stables; the night was clear, and the waning
moon shed a steady though not a bright light on the
.uclosure. Hogan cast a. lynx eye around him to see if
the count was clear, and satisfying himself it was he
laid his band impressively on Andy’s arm, as they

, .

u mgh_

 

Handy Andy.

reached the middle of the yard, and setting Andy‘s
incl: right against the moonlight, so that he might
watch the slightest expression, he paused fora nio-
iuent before he spoke; and when he s ioke, it was in 0.
low, mysterious whisper—low, as i he feared the
night; breeze might betray it—and the words were few
but potent which he uttered; they were these: “ W/w
robbed the 1mt-Qflice f"

The, result quite satisfied Hogan, and he knew how to
turn his knowledge to account. O‘Grmly and Egan
were no longer friends; a political contest was pend-
ing; letters were missing; Andy had been Egan’s serv-
ant; and Larry Hogan had enough of that mental

‘ chemical power which, from a. few raw facts, unlin-
, portant separately, could make a. combination of great
‘ value.

Soon after breakfast at Merryvale the following
morning Mrs. Egan wanted to see the Squire. She
went to his sitting-rooni—it was bolted. He told her
from the inside, he was engaged just then, but would
see her hy-und-by. 'Sll’e retired to the drawi broom,
where Fanny was Singing. “ Oh, Fanny,” said er sis-
ter, “ sing me that dciu‘ new song of ‘ The Voices,’ ’tis so
sweet, and must be felt by those who, like me, have 9.
ha py home.”

anny struck a few notes of a wild and pecqu sym-
phony, and sung hci' Sister‘s favorite.

THE V01 CL WJTIIIIV.

i.
Y ask me the dearest place on earth,
use simple joys can never die;
'Tis the holy pole of the haplpg hearth,
Where love does light can earning eye.
With snowy shroud
Let tempests loud
Around my, old tower raise their din;
hut boots the shout
0f storms without,
While voices sweet resound within!
h, dearer sound
For the tenipests round,
The voices sweet within!

n.
I ask not wealth I ask not power;

But gracious Ileaven, oh grant to me
That when the storms of fate may lower,

My heart Lust like my home may bel

W en in the gale

Poor Hope’s white sail
No haven can for shelter win,

Fate‘s darkest skies

The heart defies
Whoe still small voice is sweet within.

Oh, heavenly sound,

’Mid the teinpests round

That voice so sweet within!

Egan had entered as Fanny was. 8 ing the second
verse; he wore a. troubled air, which ' wife at first
did not remark.

“Is not that asweet song, Edward?” said she. “No
one ought to like it more than you, for your home 1
your bug iness, and no one has a. clearer conscience."

Egan ssed her ggutly and thanked her for her fig!
0 inion, and asked er what she wished to say to .
'l‘ ey left the room. _

Fun remarked Egan‘s unusutu troubled air, and it
marr her music; leaving the piano, and walking to
the window, she saw Larry Hogan walking from the
house down the avenue.

CHAPTER XV.
Is the morning brought uneasiness and distrust to Mer-
ale it dawned not more bright on N eck-or-Nothing
31:11. The discord of the former ht was not prepare.-
tory to harmony on the marrow, an the parties so . .
in v in ill-humor from the druwuig-room were not 01:
to" 00k forward with much leasure to the breaka -
parlor. But before breakfas sleep was to intervene—
that is, for those who could get iii—and the unfortunate
Furlong was not among the number. Despite the
very best feather-bed Mrs. O’Grady had selected for
him from among her treasures, t was long before
slumber weighed down his feverish e ends; and even
then, it was only to have them Opene am- in some
convulsive start of a troubled . his adven-
tures of the last four-and-twenty hours were ambled
together. in strange confusion—now on a, lone y road,
while dreading the assaults of robbers, his course was
interrupted not by a highwa but a river, wliereon
embarking, he began to ca ch salmon m a most sur-
risingly rapid manner. but Just as he was about to
haul In his fish it escaped from the hook, and the sal-
mon, making wry faces at. him, ve impertiiiently ex-
claimed “Surc you wouldn’t cute 9. poor, ignorant,
Irish mon ?" He then snap his pistols at the
insolth fish—then his carriage reeks down, and he is
suddenly transferred from the river to the road' thieves
seize u on him and bind hands. but a charming
young ady with pearly teeth ,frees him from his bonds
and conducts him to a castle Where_ a. party is engaged
in playing cards; he is invited to jom, and.“ his cards
are dealt to‘him he anticipates triumph in the game,
but by some malicious fortune histrumps are rims-
formed into things of no vulue as they touch the board;
he loses his money and is kicked out when his purse has
been em tied, and’ he escapes alone: a dark road ur-
sued by is spoilers who would take his life, and a _or-
rid cry of “ broiled bones" rings in his em as he lines;
he is seized and thrown into a. river, where, as he sinks,
shoals of salmon raise .a chorus of ramming. and he
wakes out of the .gonies of dream-drowning to find
himself nearly suffocated by Slnw into the feathery
depths of M13. o'Gragy‘s Pet - After a ht
assed in such troubl 0113 the unfortunate i r-
E, awoke Washed, and, with bitter recollections
of t e past and mournful anticipation of the future,
arose and repared to destcend :0 the Parlor. Where a
breakfas was eady.
wfivfinfn?rlni.§h§m greeting by the family was not of that
hearty and cheerfulzl character which generally distill.
' es the house of an squire; for though
’G rady was not so sav e as on the preccd evening,
he Was rather grufl, andt a ladies dreaded be agree¢
able when the master‘s temper blew from a. stormy
point. Furlong could not help tting at this mo.
ment the lively breakfast-table at erryvule, apauyoid
Miss r

tras to disadvantage the two
3% Fanny Dawson. Augusta, the eldes inheiited
the prominent nose of her other, and some of his
upper lip too, beard included; and these, unfortu-

were all she was ever likely to inherit from him:

i;
uncle harth the younger, had tho came traits in a

19

moderated degree. Altogether, he thought the tin
the pluiuest he liiid ever seen, and the house more or-
riblc than anything timt was ever imagined; and he
sighed a faint fashionable High, to think his iolitical
duties had expelled him from a paradise to send him

“ The other way—the other way!"

Four boys and a little girl sat at u side-table where o
capacxoiis jug of milk, largo bowls. and n lusty loaf
were laid under contribution amidst a suppressed but
continuous wrangle, which was going forward among
the juniors ; and a. sun )pisii " I will ’ or “I won‘t," a
“ Let me alone ” or a. “ lohave yourself,“ occasionally
was distinguishable above the murmur of dissatisfac-
tion. A little squall from the little girl at last made
O‘Grady turn round and swear that, it they did not 50-
liave themselves, he‘d turn them all out.

“It is_ull Gog , sir," said the girl.

“No, it‘s not, you dirty little thing," cried George.
whose name was thus cuphoniously abbreviated.

“He’s piitting—” said the girl, with excitement.

“Ah, you dirty little—J’ interrupted Goggy, in a low
contemptuous tone.

“He‘s utliiig, sir-”

“Whis it! youyouug devils, will you?" cried O‘Grad
and a momentary silence irevuiled; but the little l
snivcled and put up her iib" to wifie her eyes,w ile
Gog put out his tongue at her. any minutes had
not e npsed when the girl again whimpcred—

f‘Call to (ioguy, papa: he‘s putting some niouse‘l
tallSAifiliLO my nm‘kl, sllr. ' l 10 h

‘ you dli-Ly itt utell-tnel"crici .oggy re roac -
fully: Ln. tell-tall is worse than a mouse‘s ta. l."p

0 Grady jumped u , gave Master Go a. box on the
ear, and then caught iini by the aloresai appendage“)
his head, and as he led him to the doorb the same,
Goggy hollowed lustily, and when eiec from the
room howled down the passage more like adog than a
human being. ()‘Grady, on resuming his seat told
PolsheIe-t (the little girl) shcwas always gettin do
aheaun , and she was a little cantankerous on an a
dirty to ~tnlo, as (leggy suld. Among the ladies and
Fur (mg the breakfast wont forward With coldness and
,constraint, and all were glad when it was nearly over.
At this period, Mrs. O'Grrzuiy half filled a. large bowl
from the tea-urn, and then added to it some weak tea,
and Miss O’Grud ' collected all the broken bread about
the table on a p re. Just then Furlong ventured to
" twouble " Mrs. O'Grady for a leetle more tea, and be-
fore he handed her his cup he would have emptied the
sediment in the slop-basin, but by mistake he popm
it into the hich bowl of miserable Mrs. O‘Grady

reparcd. Fur orig begged a thousand pardons. but

rs. O’Gmdy assured him it was of no consequence,
ar it was only/Dr the tutor!

O’Gijudy. niving swallowed his breakfast as fast as -
possible, left the room; the whole part soon iolloWed,
and on arriving in the drawiugioom, i. you ladies
became more agreeable when no longer under 6 con-
straint of their ogre father. Furlong talked slip-slop
comnionplaccs with them' they spoke of the country
and the weather, and he 01; the city; they assured him
that the dews were heavy in the evciiiu , and that the

was «a green in that rtlof t 6 country; be
obliged them with the intercs ig information, that the
Lifly ran through Dublin, but that the two sides of the
city communicated by means of bridges—that the
houses were built of red brick generally, and that the
hall~doors were painted in imitation of mahogany: to
which the yo ladies responded, “Law, how odd 1“
and added that in the country people mostly lfined
their hall-( oors green, to match the grass. i 10
admitted the propriet of the roceeding, and sai
he liked uniformity. e lyou ' udies quite coincided
inhis opinion, declared t my a were so fond of unl-
fornuty, and added tluitpno of their carriage horses
was blind. Furlong pdmitted the excellence of the ob-
servation, and said, in a. very soft voice, that Love was
blind also.
“ Exaetl ," said Miss O‘Grady, “and that's therea-
son w  ourhorse “Cu id‘l"

“ ow clever!” replied “in-long.

“ And the more that goes in harness with him—she‘l
an Ifily creature. to be sure, but we call her ‘ Venul.‘ "

“ ow dwolll“ said Furlong.

“ That’s for uniformity,” said Miss O'Grady.

“How oodl” was the re‘oindcr.

Mrs. 0' rady, who had be t the room for a few min-
utes, now returned and told Furlong she would show
him over the house if he pleased. Ho assented. of
course, and under her guidance went through many
.9. rtment those on the basement sto were hum

ugh rapidly, but when Mrs. O’Grafd'y got him u
stairs, among the bed-rooms she dwell. on thee: - ‘
lencc of every apartment. “ ‘his I'need not show ylgisxi
Mr. Furlon .—‘tls your own; I ho you slept we“
might?” T us was the twentieth ime the Won had
been ask . “Now, herein another, Mr. long; the
Window looks out on the lawn: so nice to look out on
the lawn I think in the morning, when one gets up I—
so refreshing and wholesomel 1! you an n .
the stain in the ceding, but we couldn’t get the moi re-
gained in time befom thewinter set in last year; and

i‘ O‘G-rady thought we M 88 well have the ‘9‘
ers and slutcrs togetherin t e summer—and the oils.
does want paint, indeed, but we all hate the smell of
point. See here, Mr. Furlong," and she turned up 3
31pm as she s okc; “infill DUE, your 113-1111 km W“ M:

(1 you ever eel a finer bed?

Fin-lo a he never did.

u on you don’t know how to feel a. heal—put your
hand {mo it_.wcli, that way ;"_ and Mrs. O’G
p1 ed her an“ up to the elk ow into the 0b,;ect of her
“Inflation Furlong poked the bed, and was all loudly
t

ion.
“ ’t it beautiful?"

“Blaming!” replied Furlong. trying to pick on the
bits of down which chi to his cos. . ‘ ,.
“ 0h. never mind the own—you shall be brushed ofl.‘ ;

I always show my MS. Mr. Ffm‘loiig. Now here‘s an-
other; ’ and so she went on, drug mg poor; Furlong up
and down the home, and be «.h not get out of or '
clutches till he had poked all the beds in the acts -
ment.‘ As soon as that ceremony was over, and

his coat had und one the process of he
wished to take a. stro and was going forth, when rs.
O’Grady interrupted him, with the assurance am it
would not be safe unless some one of the f ‘

his escort, for the dogs were ve fierce—Mr. 0 G
waaaofond of dogs, and so pron of

a
1d hchad,sorema.rkable for theiroo I.
find‘bfiter waittllltheboyahad done thdr m
, 7 g .

* Pinafore:

 

'l'MaA‘V.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. »— m—C—Wm—‘w __.__ ._- ._.

York. Librarr

 

 

/
r 
(3.x)
sons. So Furlong wns marched back to the drawing—
l‘UOlll.

There the younger daughter addrcssi‘i'i him with a

message from ln-r L'fl‘lllltllllulllnlfl, who wished to have 1

the )lUllSlll'l: of makinghis acquaintance, and hoped he
won d pay her a visit. .li‘ul'long, of course, was ‘qliito
‘lt'lll!lil.(‘.(l," and “too happy, ’ and the young; lady,
thereupon, led him to the old lady's apartment.
’l‘hoolddowchr had been abi-auiy in her youth—
one of llic hollcs ol‘ the il‘i~‘.ll court, and when she heard
'“agcntleman from Dublin Castle" was in the house
she desircdio see him. To seeaily one from the seat
of her juvenile joys mid triumphs would have given her
delight, were it only the couchmun that had driven a
carriage to a love.‘ Ul‘tll‘UdVlng'd‘lell; she could ask him
about tho scutinels at the gate, the cntranccv )orch,
and if tho long range of windows 'ct g'littered with
lights on St. Patrick’s night; but to law a conversa-
iion with an llllltfltll from that scat of government and
courtly pleasure was, indeed, something to make her
(in ) ) .
illihirlong being introduced, the. old lady received
nini very courteoimly, at the same time with a certain
ail-that l‘mtokcned she was accustomed to deference.
licr coimlr Mill): figure was habitcd in a loose morn-
lli;.‘,’ wrap made of gray llaunel; but while this gave
evidenco she sLudi.-.l her personal comfort rather than
.ippcarancc. a hit of prclly silk handkerchief about the
deck, very knowingly dis flayed, and a becoming ribbon
zn lu-r cup showm‘. shi- \ id not quite neglect her lgood
looks; itdid not require a very (lllck eye to see, he—
iidcs, a small touch ol‘ rouge on t 19. check ,which a 'o

     

 

“ Whitewash and new banners!" exclaimed the lndig- 
i nant dowagzcr: “the Goths! to rcmove an atom of the 1
romantic dust! I would not have let a houseinaid into i
thc place for the world! But they have left the anthem,
I hope?”

“ oh, yes: the anthem is continued, but with a small
diflewence:—they used to sing the anthem bofo‘ the
se‘lnon, but the people used to go away afte’ the
anthem and nevc waited fo’ the se’mon, and the i
bishop, who is pwoud of his pweaching, ordc‘ed the
l anthem to be post oned till ufte’ the se‘mon."

“ Oh, yes,"  the old lady, “I remember, now,
hearing of that, and some of tho wags in Dublin saying
the bishop was jealous of old Spray ;* and didn't some-
 1write something called ‘Pulpit versus Organ-
0 i‘

“ I cawn‘t say."

“Well, I am glad you like the cathedral, sir; but I ,
wish they had not dusted the banners; I used tollook at I
them all the time the service went on——they were so r0- 2
mantle! I suppose you go there every Sunday?" l

“ I go in the sumnic‘," said Furlong; “ the place is so 1
cold in the winte’." '

“ That’s true indeed," responded the Dowager, “ and
it’s quite funn , when your teeth are chattering with I
cold, to hear ., pray singing, ‘Comfort ye, my people;' I
Ibut, tobe sure, that is almost enough to warm you. i
I You are fond of music, I perceive?” l
i “ Vcw l"

‘ “ I play the guitar—(citra—cithra—or lute. as it is
i called by the poets). I sometimes sing, too. Lo you
i know ‘ ’ he lass with the delicate air?’ a sweet ballad of

 

mid depl'esrli‘d, and the assistance of Indian ink to t e r the old school—my instrument once belon ed to Dolly ‘
eyebrow which time had thinned and faded. A glass! Bland, the celebrated Mrs. Jordan now—a , there, sir,
iihod with llOth‘x‘ stood (in the table before her, and a l is a brilliant s ecimen of Irish mirthfulness—what a
quantity of hooks lay scattered about; a guitar—not ! creature she is. Hand me my lute, child," she said to
the Spanish inslrumcnt new ill fashion, but the English I, her granddaughter: and havmg adjusted the blue rib-
nuc of some eighty years ago, strung Witil Wire and, bonovcr her shoulder, and twisted the tim' g-pegs,
“med in thirdsr-il‘lhfl by a blue ribbon, hcsnle/hcr; a l and thrummed upon the wires for some time, 'iillle made ‘
corner cupboard. faniasiimlly curved, bore some cu- a prelude and cleared her throat to sing “ The lass with l
i'lous specimens of china. on one side oi the room; the delicate air," when the loud whirring of the clock- l

 

i V61. 1.

 

" A nd a natc clergy you‘ll make,“ said the tinker.

“And why do they call you iuilliiic‘l'" in uircd Fur-
lonilzz The old man looked up and grinne , but said
no ling.

“You‘ll know before long, I‘ll engage,” said Ratty,
“ won‘t be, Fogy? You were with old Grau‘ to-day,
wcrcn’ you?"

n Yos- .

“‘ Did she sing to you ‘The lass with the delicate
inr‘l'“ said the boy, putting himself in the attitude of a
person playing thoguilar, throwing up his eyes. and
mimicking?r the voice of an old woman-—

‘ So they call'd her, they cull‘d her,
The asswtho lass
\. a delicate air,
De—liok-it—lick-it—lii:k-lt
The lass with a (le—lick-it air."

The young rascal mndo frightful mouths, and \it out
his tongue every time he said “lick-it “ and w on ho
had finished, asked Furlong, “ Wasn't that the thing?"
Furlong told him his grandmamina had been going to
sing it, but this pleasure had been deferred till to-
marrow.

“ Then you did not hear it?” said Ratty.

Furlong answered in the negative.

“Och! murderl murder! I‘m sorry I old you."

“ It is so cew pa‘ticula’, thcn‘:"'inquired Furlong.

“Oh. you‘ll nd out that, and more too, if you live
long enough " was the answer. ’l‘llcn turning to tho
Einkeihdle said, “ Have you any milliner work in hand,
*og’y‘.

u

a.
:7

 

o be sure I have,“ answered the tinker; “ who has
so good}: right to know that as yourself? Throth,
you‘Mi little to do, I’m thinkin', when you ax that
idle question. 011, 'ou‘renatcladsl And.would noth-
in’ sarve you but. br akin‘ the weather-cock?“

“()h, ’twas such a nice cock-shot; ‘twas impossible

i not to have a shy at iti" said Ralty, chuckling

s !" still chimed in the tinker.

“ Oh, you’re nice 1m
“Besides,” said Ratty, “(lusty but me a hull-dog:
pup against a rabbit, I could not smash it iilthreo

 

 

 

while, in strange discord with what was really scarce
and beautiful, the commonest Dutch cuckoo~clock was
suspended on the opposlie wall; close beside her chair
stood a very pretty little Japan table, bearing a look-
ing~glass with numerous drawers framed in the same
material; and while Furlong seated himself, the old
ludv cast a sidelong glance at the mirror, and her
withered fingers played with the fresh ribbon.

5‘ You . ve recently arrived from the Castle, sir, I
underslam. ”

V.“ Quite uecently, madam—nwived last nioht.”

“l ho (3 his Excellency is well—not that have the

honor or his acquaintance, but I love the Lord Lieuten-
ant—quid the aides-de~cail1ps_al'c so nice, and the little
inagcsZ—put a marker in that. book,’ said she iii an
undertone, to her granddaughter, “page seven y-four
—ah,” she resumed in a higher tone, “ that reminds me
of the Honorable Captain Wi-iggle, who commanded a
seventy-four, and danced With me at the Castle the
evening Lady Legge s named her 'alikle. By-the-by,
are there any sevi-lity- ours in Dublin now?”

“ I wather think,“ said ii‘urlong. “ the bay is not suf-
ficiently deep for line-of-battle ships."

“Oh dear, yes! I have seen quantities of seventy-

t'ours there; thonzli, indeed, I am not quite sure it it,

wasn’t at Spill/wart. Give me the smelling salts. Char-
lotte, love; mine does ache indeed! How subject the
dear Duchess of Itutlnnd was to headaches; you did
not know the Duchess of Rutland?——no, to be sure,
what am Ithinking of? you’re too vouniz; but those
were the charming days! You have heard, of coiirs
the duchess‘ ban mat in reply to the compliment of Lots;
, , but I nmst not mention his name, because there
win some scandal about them: but the gentleman said
to the duchess-I must tell you she was Isabella,
Duchess of Rutland—and he said, ‘ Isabelle is a belle,’ to
which the dllchess re died, ‘ Isabelle was a We.‘ ”

" Vowy neat, indeed 1" said Furlong.

“Ahl poor ihing,“ said the (luwzlflt‘l‘, with a sigh,
“she was beginning to im a little [lessee them" she
looked in the glass ll(fl‘fit‘lf, and addid, “ hear me, how
Pale i am this morning!" and lulling out one of the

 

lttle drawers from the Japan ookillmglnss, she took
out a. pot of mimic. and liigiltciicd t c color on her
check. The old ady not only liigluened her own
color, but that of the witnesscs~ of Furlong particu-
Lady, who was I aim surprised. “ Why am I so ver pale
this mowing. C arlottu. love?” continued the ol lady.

“ You sit up so late 1' Ending, grandinamma.”

“Ah, who can l‘t‘SlSt the fascination of the muses?
You are fond of literature, I hope, sir?”

“ Extwr-mely,“ l‘z‘ ilicd Furlong.

“ As a statesman, ‘ continued the old lady—to whom
Furlong made a deep obcisancc at the word “states-
man "—"' as a statesman, of course your reading lies in
the more solid dcpartuu‘nt; but it 'ou ever do conde-
scend to read a. i'oliiailct‘, there is t e sweetest thi I
ever met I am just now misusedlu; itiscallcd 313m
Blue Rubber of the Pink Mountain.‘ I have not come
to the pink mountain yet, but the blue robber is the
most perfect charact ‘r. The author, however, is
guilty of a strange to « rl’ulncss: he begins by speak-
ing or the. robber as oi in middle age. and soon after
dcscribcs him as a you: r man. how. 110w could a
young man be of the mid :c?" ‘

"It seems a SIWltllLfc ni ceuwzicy.’ Uspcd Furlong.
“ But poets somethn. :4 pwi‘Siinlc on the pwwelege they
have of doing what they please with tho hewoes."

“ uite true, sir. And talking of heroes._l hope the
Kni'r ts of St. Patrick are well-«l do adimre them so
muc i-—’tis so interesting to see their banners and
helmets haii'ring up in St. Patrick’s cathedral. that
venerable pile !—with the loud peal ot the organ—
sublime-4an it?~the banners almost tremble in the
vibration of the air to tlieloud swell of the ‘ A-a-a-menl‘
—-the very banners seem to wave ‘ Amen!’ Oh, that
swell is so finei—I think they are fond of swells m the
choir; they have a good effect, and some of the youn
men are so good lookingl—and the little boyS, 300--
uu pose they are choristers‘ children?"

he old lady made a halt, and Furlong filled up the
pause by declaring, “ he wele couldn‘t say."

“ I ho c you admire the scmce at St. Patrick’s?" con-
tinued t .e old lady. .

f“ YSE-ilfd  St. Paytwick’s a vewy amusing place
0 wo-s ip ,

“Amusing,” said the old lad , halt (mended. “In-
spiring, you mean: not 1.3139111 t link the sermon inter-
estil -'. but the anthcml—oli, the anthem, it is so tine!
Am the old haulers, those are my delight-the dear
old banners, ccvci ed wnh dust!"

“0b, as far as that Woes," said Furlong. “they have
.mpwowd the Ciltllt‘t \ral vewy much, to they white-
- '...-’n :~; it 1‘ ‘..-“:’lti and nut iir not- ianncrs.’

   

   
   
 

wheels interrupted her, and she looked up with great 1 goes.”

delight at a little door in the top of the clock, which “ Fab; an” ho ought to know you betther than that,"

suddenly sprung open, and out popped a wooden bird. ‘ said the tinkei ; “ i“ or you'd make a fair offer* at any:
“ Listen 30 my bll‘d. Sir,” said the 01d lady. , thing, I think. but an answer to your schoolmastlier~

the bird popped in again the little door closed, and the l
monotonous tick of the c ock continued. l

“ That‘s my little bird, sir, that tells me secrets; and
now, 311', you must leave moi I never receive visits af—
ter twelve. I can‘t sing on The’lass with the delicate l
air ’ today, for who won (1 compete with the feathered ‘
son%stcis of the grove? and after my sweet little i
war ler up there, I (lane not venture; but I will sing it l
for you to—morrow. Good morning, sir. I am happy
to have had the honor of making 1your acquaintance. '
She bowed Furlong out very polite y
daughter was followin , she said, y love you must
not forget some so for my little bird. ’ Furlong
looked rather surprised, for he saw no bird but the one
in the clock; the youn lady marked his expression,
and asshe closed the 001- she said, “ You must not
mind grandmamma; you know she is sometimesa little
queer. ’

Furlong was now handed overtothe boys toshow
him over the domain; and they, young im gas the
i were, knowing he was in no favor with 1: air ether, fr t
l they might treat him as ill as they pleased, and quiz
l him wit impunity. The first portion of Furlong‘s en-
1 ance consisted in being dragged through dirty sta les
, yards and out-houses, and shown the various pets 0.
all the parties; do 's, lgeons, rabbits, weasels, etc,
were paraded, an t (311' qualities expatiated upon,
till poor Furlong was uito weary of them and ex-
Egessed a desire to see t c domain. Horatio, the second

y, whose name was abbreviated to Batty, told him
the must wait for Gusty, who was mendin hls's r.
“ e‘re golngto spear for eels,“ said the gboy; ‘ did
you ever spear for eels ?”

“I should think not “ said Furlon , with a knowin
smile, who suspected t is was inten ed to be a secon
edition of quizzing a la mode dc momma.

“You think I’m joking," said the boy “but it’s
famous sport, I can tell you; but if you’re tired of
waiting here, come alon with me to the milliner’s, and
we can wait for Gusty t ere.”

While followingthe )Oy, whojum . alonfito the tune
of a jig be was whistlln , now an then c anging the
whistle intoa song to t e same tune, with very odd
words indeed, and aburden of gibberish ending with
,“ riddle-diddle-dow,” Furlong wonde what 9. mil-
linercould have to do in such an esta lishment, and
his wonder was not lessened when his guide added,
“The milliuer is a queer chap, and maybe he‘ll tell us
something funn .’ ‘ ' .

“ Then the mi ine’ is a man i" said Furlong.

“Yes,” said the b0 , laughing; “and he does not
work With needle and bread either."

They approached a small out-house as he spoke, and
the she. clinklng of a hammer fell on the ear. shoving
open a kety door, the boy cried, “ Well, Fogy, I’ve
brought a. gentleman to see, you. This is F0 , the
milljner sir, ' said heto Furlong, whose s so was
further ncreased, when, in the person of the ncalled
the milliner, he beheld a tinker.

“ What a. strange pack of people I havegot among,"
thought Furlong. ' I _

The old tinker saw his surprise, and grinned at him.
“I suppose it was anate young woman you thought

ou'd see when he towld on he d brin you to the mil-

er—halhai hal 0h, hey’re nave ads the Master
O’Gm'dys; divil a thing they call by the proper name,

at all.

“Yes, we do," said the boy. sharply; “ we call our-

:ggvesiaby our proper name. Hal 0 , I have you
re. .

“ Divil a taste,. as smart as you think yourself
Musther Batty; you call yourselves gentlemen, an
that’s not {our proper name."

Batty, W 0 was scraping triangles on the door with a
Piece 9! broken brick, at once converted his ncll into
84 1111138116. and let fly at the head of the t- iger, who
seemed quue prepared for such a result, for, raismg the
kettle he was mending he caught the shot adroitly, and
tbs brick rattled harmlessly on the tin. I

, Hal said the tinker, mocklnigy, “you missed me,
like our mammy’s blessin‘-" and e-pursued his work.
i; a very odd name e calls you," said Furlong,

addressingyoung G .

Batty. said heboy. "Oh yes theycall me Ratty,
short for Horatio. I was oratio after Lord
Nelson, because Loni Nelson’s father was a. clergy-

 

 

The sound of “ cuckoo " was repeated twelve times, : oh

and as her rand- ,
M E

 

man and papa- hltends me [or the church." I
* One of the finest tenors or the last centixy. l

 

, a natc lad you arc—a nate lad i—a nice clergy you‘li
be, your ririranro. Oh, if you Int off the tin command-
ments as fast as you hit o the tin weathercock, it‘s a

nod man 'ou‘ll )c—an‘ if I never have a headache till
t en, sure it’s happy I’d be!”

“Hold your prate, old Growly,“ said Batty; “and
why don’t you mend the weathcrcock?" _

“ I must mend the kittle first—and a purty kittle you
made of itl—and would nothing sarve you but the host
kittle in the house to tic to the dog’s tail? Ah, Mas-
ther Batty, you‘re terrible boys, so yiz are!”

“ Hold your prate, you old thief l—why wouldn’t wo
amuse ourselves?"

“‘And huntin' the poor dog, too."

“ Well, what matter?—he wasa strange dog.“

“That makes no differ in the cruellu.’

“Ah, botherl you old humbu l—who was it black
«Fa‘ned tine rag-woman‘s eye l—hal ogy—hal Fogy—dirty

oi,

“filo away, Masther Ratty you’re too good, so you
are, your rlvmnce. Faix, I
Squlre, doesn't murdher you sometimes”.
“He would, if he could catch us," replied Ratty,
“ but we run too fast for him, so devil than ' him l—and
on, too, Fo ,——hal old Gl‘Olel Come 0.10% Mr.
urlong, here s Gnsty',—bad scran to you Fogy. ' and
he slammed the door as he quitted the tin er.

Gustavus followed by two younger brothers, Theo-

dore and xodfrey (for O’Grady loved high-sounding
names in baptism, though they 0t twisted into such
queer shapes in family use), now ed the way over the
park toward the river. Some fine timber they passed
occasionally; but the ax had manifestly been busy, and
the wood seemed thinned rather from necessity than
fol-im rovement: the paths were clicked with weeds
and fa len leaves, and t to rank moss added its evidence
of neglect. The boys pointed out anything they thought
worthy of observation by the way, suc as the best
places to find a hare, the most covered approach to
he river to get a shot at wild ducks, or where the best
young wood was to be found from whence to cut a
stick. 0n reaching their point of destination, which
was where the river was less rapid, and its banks sed y
and thickly grown with daggers and b t c
sport of s earmg for eels commenced. Gusty first un-
dertook t a task, and, after some vigorous plunges of
his lm‘plement into the water, he brought up the prey,
wrigg ng between its barbed ran ’5. Furlong was
amazed, for he thought this, be t e on-flshing,
was intended as a qmz, and, after a few more exam-
ples of Gusty’s‘ prowess, he undertook 'the sport: a.
short time, however, fatigued his unpractlced arm, and
he relln ulshed the spear to Theodore, or Tay, as they
called h m, and Toy shortly brought up his fish, and
thus, one after another, the boys, successful in then
sport, soon made the basket heavy.
_ Then, and not till then, they desired Furlong to carry
it; he declared he had no curiosity whatever in that
hne but the boys‘vyould not let him 03 so easy, and
tol him the practice there was, that eve one should
take his share in the da ‘s sport, and as e could not
catch the fish he shoul 081'er it. He attem ted a par—
iley, and 811% ested he was on y a visitor; bu the only
laughed at m—said that might be a very good ublin
joke, but it would not pass in the country. He thcnnt—
tem ted laughmgly to decline the honor; but Ram:
turn ng roun to a monstrous dog, which hithelto had
followed them, uietly said, “ Here! Bloodybones'; here.
boy! at him, snr —make him do his work, be '1" The
bristling savage made a low growl, and flxe his eye;
on Furlong, who attempted to remonstrate: but he very
soon gave that up, for another word from the boy;
_,m-ged the dog to a. howl and a crouch, pre ratory is
a 3 ring, and Furlong made no further realstance, hi't
too C up the basket amid the uproar-ions laughter of the

boys, Who continued their sport, ad ' every now
and then to the weight of Furlong‘s l ; and when-
ever he_ la ged behind the cried out, “Como

along, man- ack!" which was t eoomplimantar name
they called him b for the rest of the day. long
thought spearing or eels worse s rt than fishing for

salmon, and was rejoiced when a. urn homeward was .

taken by the ; but his anno ances were not at.
euded. _ On thgi‘i'fiturn, their rouge lay across a plgnk
of cons1derable length, which spanned a small branch
of the river; it had no central support. and cone
quently sprung considerably to the 001; of the passe!»

*A “fair otfer"is a hrase am the Irishpelo
autl'v. meaning a success’tul aim. (mg _.

 

wondher his honor, the p

 

1-“

..._..__.-<,__ _ .Q.

No. 9.

lf<"l‘, who was aianded no pl‘lilei'tion from handrail, or
oven :1, wringing Pop", and this rendered its lassagll (lif-
l'leult to an unprac ced person. When Furlong was
told to make his y ll‘l‘l ., he hesitated, llllt‘. llm‘l'
many nss‘nrancen on Us pa .llult ho could not. attempt
it. (lusty said he would lead him over ill security and

 
    

 

took his hand for the purpose; but when he lnnl him ,
lust ill the center, he, loosed himself from ll‘urlong‘s,

l old, and rail to the opposite side, While Furlong “TH
praying him to return, {any stole behind him Milli»
rienlly far to have ulrelmse enough on the plank, and
lu‘;._ u jumping till lie made it spring too hi::;h for poor
l‘ui'loin.r to hold his. t'oulinl,r any longer: sosquatling on
rm; plank, he got. ostride u lt‘l! II, and held on with his:
i .nirl, every dent-ending viaratlon of the. board dipping
his dandy boots in the water.

“ \\‘ell done, Rally!“ shouted all the boys.

“ Splash hiln, 'l‘ayl" cried (lusty. “ l‘ull away,
lioggy."

The three bo ‘3 now hean pelting l:ir;:e stout-S imo
the river close )eside Furlong, splashing him so thor-

oughly, that howas wringing wet ill live. ininules, in 

ruin Furlonl,r shouted, “ Younx: gentlemen! young gen-

tlemen!" and, at last, when he threatened lo complain 

to their father, they reeommcneed worse, than before
rnd vowed they’d throw him intothe stream 11' he dil
not promise to be silent. on the subject: for, to use their
on n words, it‘ they were beaten, they might as wvll duck
him at once, and have the. " worth of their licking." At
last a com iromisc brim.r el‘i'eeled, Furlong stood up to
walk off tie )lank. " Remember," said Kelly, "you
won’t. tell we liaiset 1* you?“

1 "]I won't indeed," said Furlong; and he got safe. to
ant .

“But I will!" cried a voice from a. neighboring wood;
and Miss ()‘(lrady appeared, surrounded by u. crowd of
little pet-dogs. She shook her head in a threatening
manner at the otfeuders, and all the little dogs net up a
yelping bark, as it’ to enforce their mistress‘s linger.
'l‘hc snuppish barkingr of the. pets was returned by one
hoarse, buy from "limmlyliolles," which silenced the
little dogs, as a broadside from a seventy-four would
dumbfounder a flock of privateem, and the boys re-
turned the sister‘s threat by a universal shout of " Tell-
ta cl"

“ Go home, tell-tale!" they all cried; and with an no-
tion equally simultaneous, they stooped one and all for

Handy Andy.

lllltlFl'lf. At such times, she too, became strangely ex-
| cited, andinvarlably executed one piece of farcial ab-
xnrdily, of which, however, the family contrived to
l i'ollllllt‘ the, exercise. to her own room. It was wearing
on her head a tin concern, smoothing like a. chimney-
eowl, ornamented by a small weathercock, after the
fashion of those which surmount. church—s wplcs; this,
she declared, influenced her health wonderfully, by in-
jdiratiug the variation of the wind in her stomach,
l which she maintained to be the grand ruling prillciplo
of human existence. She would have worn this head-
, (li'esx' in any company, had she been permitted, hilt the
terrors of her son had Hutlleient influence over her to
have this laid aside. for a more seemly (oifl‘mw when she
, uppl‘uer atdinner or in the drawing-room; but while
, she yielded really throth l’ear, Hho affected to be in-
, tluenced through tenderness to her son‘s infirmity of
, trin )4
“ lt is very absurd,“ she. would stay, “ that, Gustavus
i should interfere with lily toilette; but, poor fellow, he’s
‘ verv queer, you know, and lllunwr him.”
This at once explains why Master ltatty called the
I tinker “ the milliner.“
it willnot be wondered at that the family carefully
' excluded the old lady from the knowledge of any ex‘
l citing subject; but those who know what a. talkative
race children and servants are, will not he surprised
that the dowager sometimes got scent of proceedings
which were meant to be kept secret. The lending elec-
tion. and the approiwhing visit of the can idate, some-
. howor other, came to her knowledge, and of course
she put on her tin clilnmcy- ot. Thus attiredrslie Rat
, watching tho avenue all ay; and when sho Haw
l O‘tlrady return In a handsome traveling carriagn with
i a stranger, she. was quite happy, and began to attire
| herself in some ancient flnery, rather the worse for
lwear, and which might have. been interesting to an
i antiquary.
The house soon rung with hustle-«hells rung, and
, footsteps rapidly need passages, and patwred n and
5‘ down stairs. Am y WM the nimblc-st at the hal door
‘ at the. first summons of the bell; and, in a. livery too
I short in the anus and too wide in the shoulders, he
i hustled here and there, his anxiety to be useful only
i putting him in everybody‘s way, and ending in getting
: lim a hearty cursingr from O‘Grad .
The carriage was unpacked, and otter-boxes, parcels,

 

    

 

pebbles, and pelted Miss Augusta so vigorously, that and portmantcaus sire/wed the hall. Andy was desired

she and her dogs were obliged to run for it.

CHAPTER XVI. _

HAVING recounted Furlong's out-door adventures, it

IS necessary to 88. something of what was passmg at
Neck \r-Nothing all in his absence.

 

to carry the latter to “ the gentleman’s. room,” and,
throwing.r the portmunteau over his shoulder, he ran up-
stairs. It; was just after the commotion created by
the arrival of the Honorable Mr. Scatterhrain that Fur-
lon returned to the house, wet and dreary.

l e. retired to hir room to change. his clothes, and

O’hmdy, on leaving the. breakfast-table, retired to l fancied he was now safe from fill’tllCl‘mOlL‘Stnl’loll, with

his justice-room to transact business. a principal feature
in which was the examination of Handy Andy, touch—
ing the occurrences of the eVening he drove l-‘urlong to
Mérryvale; for though Andy was clear 01' the charge

for which he, had been taken into custody, namely, the, -
murder of Furlong, ()‘(lrady thought he might have ,

been a party to some conspiracy to drive the stranger

to the enemy‘s camp. mid lherefore put him to the

question very mrply. This cunnination he had set
{his heart upon; and reserving it as a [mom bundle, dis-
i missed all pn-liniiuary cases in it very (ill-hand manner,
' just as men carelessly swallow a few oysters prepara-
, tury to dinner.

As for Andy, when he, WM summoned to the 'ustice-
room, he made sure it was for lhe purpose 0 being
charged with robbing the POSlrllfl’lCE‘, and cast: a side-
long.r glance at the ctllgy of the man banging on the
wall, as he was marched up to the desk where O‘Grady
sat in magiuterial di'nily; and, therefore, when he
found it. won only for riving a gentleman to the. wron
honse all the pother was made, his heart was lightenei
of a heavy load, and he answered brisk] enough. The
string of question and reply was certain y an entangled
one, and left ()‘Urady as much puzzled as before
whether Andy was stupid and innocent, orloo knowmg
to let himself he caught—and to this opinion he clung
ntlast. 1n the course of the inquiry, he. found Andy
had been in service at Merryutle; and Andy, telling;
him he knew all about waiting: on table, and so lorth,
and O’Grudy being in want of an additional mun-sier-
vant in the house while his honorable guest, Sarkville
Scatterbruin should be. on a. visit with him, Andy was
told he should be taken on trial for a month. Indeed,
a. month was as long as most; servants could stay in the
house—they came and went as fast as figures ina magic
lantern.

And was installed in his new place, and set to work
immei lately scrubbing up extras of all sorts to make

the race )llOll of the honorable candidate for the county
as brilliant as possible, not onl for the honor
of the house, but to make u. Avorable impres-
sion on the. comln guest; for Augusta, the tides:

'11, was marriagca 1e, and to her father's ears “The

onorable Mrs. Sackville Seattcrln'ain". would havo
sounded much more a 'eenbly than “Miss O'Qrally,“

“ Well—who knows?” said O‘Grady to his Wife;
“ such things have come to pass. Furnish her up, and
make her look smart at dinneiu—he has a good fortune,
and will be a peer one of these days—worth catching.
Tell her so." . I

Leaving these. laconic observations and directions
behind hnn, he set off to the neighboring town to meet
Scatterbrain, and to make a blow-out at the post-
office about the missing letters. This he was thcmore
anxious todo, as the post-0mm: was kept: by the brother
of M‘Garry, the apothecary; and since ftlrady had
been made to pay so dearly for thrashing him, he swore
eternal vengeance against the whole family. The
post-master could give no satisfactory answer to the
charge made against him, and O‘Gmdy threatened a.
complaint to headquarters. and rophesicd the postr
master‘s dismissal. Satisfied for the present with this

. piece of prospective vengeance, he proceeded to the
inn, and awaited the. arrival of his test.

In the interim, at the Hall, rs. O’Grady gave
Au mm the necessary hints,  recommended a short
wafi to improve her color' and it was in the execution
of this order that Miss 0’ mdy’s pernmbulation was
cut short by the pelting her sweet brothers gave her.

The internal bustle of the establishment caught the
attention of the dowager, who contrived to become ac.
quainted with its cause, and set about making herself
as fascinating as possible; for thoughhm the ordinary
routine of the family affairS. She k6 9‘38“ genera-ll
secluded in her own apartments, W_ eneVfil' {my unfair
Ofan interest' nature wa's pending. nothing could
make her refrain from joining any companyyhxch
might be in the house—nothmg—not even OGrady

amateur-"hoisted."

 
  

 

an inward protestation that the next time the Master
l()‘(lradys caught him in their company. they might.
bless themselves; when he heard aloud sound of hust-
ling: neuritis door, and Miss Augusta‘s voice audiny
nxelaiming. “ Behave. yourself. Rattyl—Gusty, let me
gnl’flwhen, as the words were. uttered, the door of
his room was shoved open, and Miss Augusta thrllflt in,
and the door leekcd outside.

Furlong had not half his clothes on. Augusta ex-
claimed, " Gracious mew-first put it ) her hands to her
eyes, and then turned her face to edoor.

Furlong hid himself in the bed-curtains, while Ratty,
the vicious little rascal, with a malicious laugh, said,
“ Now, promise ou’ll not tell papa..'or I’ll bring him up
here-41nd then, ow will you be r“ .

" Batty, you wretchl” cried Augusta, lacking at the
door, “let me out!"

“ Not able till you romlse.”

“ Oh, fle, lllaste 0’ wadyl" said Furlong.

“I‘ll scream, Batty, if you don't let me out!" cried
Augusta. \

“If you Screech papa will hear you, and then he’ll
come up and kill that fellow there.‘

“Oh, don’t 8 ueam, Miss O’Gwzulyl" said Furlong,
very vivacious y, from the bed-curtains; “don t
squeam, pway!” .

“ I'm not squeamish, sir," said Miss Augusta: “ but
it’s dreadful to be shut up with a man who has no
clothes on him. Let me out, Batty—dot me out!"

:‘ Well, will you tell on us! ’

“ ‘I’on your honor?"

“ ‘l’on my honor, no! Make hostel Oh, if papa knew
of this!"

Searcer had the words been uttered, when the heavy

tramp and a voice of CG may resounde in the pos-
sagc, and t 1e boys scampered of! in a fright, leaving
the door locked.
‘ “Oh, what will become of incl" said the poor girl,
with the extremity of terror in her look—a terror so
excessive, that. she was quite headless of the dishahille
of Furlong, who jumped from the curtains, when he
heard O‘Grady coming.

“ Don’t be fwightenod Miss O‘Gwadfisaid Furlong,
half frightened to death himself. " an we explain
the affair—J .

“Explain!” said the girl, gasping.
know mpal"

An S c spoke, the heavy tram ceased at the door—a
sharp tap succeeded and Eur oug's name was called
in the gulf! voice of the Squire.

Furlong cquld scarcel articulate a response.

“ Let me in " said 0‘ .rad .

“ I am not \vessed, Sir," answm'ed Furlong.

“No, matter,“ said the Squire, “you‘re not awo-
man."

Au'rustu. wrung her hands-

“ 1’ 1 be down with you as soon as I am dwessed, sir,"
re lied Furlong. ,

‘ I want to speak to you immediately-and here are
letters for you—open t e door.

Augusta signified by S! to Furlong that resistance
would be in vain' an hi herself under the bed.

“ (tome in, air ' said Furlop , when she won secreted.

“ The door is fastened,’j 88.1 O’Grady.

“ Turn the key..8i|',” Bald “P101181 ‘

O‘Gmdy unlocked the door, and was .so inconsistent
a person, that he never thoughtpf the impossibility of
Furlong‘s having locked it. but, in the richest spirit of
bulls. asked him if he; always fastened his door on the
oucsne. Furlong said hefilways did,

“ Wham; the matter with you?" in uired O’Grady.
“You’re as white as the sheet there;’ and he pointed
to the bed as he a ke-

Fnrlong grew w liter as he pointed to that quarter.

" \Vhat ails you, man t—aren’t you well?" ,

“ Wather (all Lied—but yll be bette’ pwesently. What
do you wm‘ h wit me sir?

“ Oh, you don‘t

 

“ Here are letters for you—I ,want to know what’s in
erbmin’s come—do you know that i"

to the tune of ‘L ante to the Wedding!"

 

8*.) l.

“ No—l did not.“

“ llon‘t stand there in the ('Olll‘g'o on dressing your-
self: 1'“ sit down here. till you can open your lettern; i
want to tell you something: besides." ()‘(lrvuly tool: :‘.
chair as he npuke.

‘ll‘lll'lmlll‘(15.4llltlflll all the (-1 unponure he could; and the
glrl begun to hope Hboshould remain undiscovered, unu
most likely she would have been so lucky, hud no? tr -
(lenluu of Disaster, with aspect; inaliun, vowed her
sable wand, and called her ehnst n wrvom. l‘m'n’~
Andy to herald. He, her faithful and unfailing: miur.
ter, obeyed the call, and :u that cri‘ieril Juncle ( .'
lime gave a loud knock at the chamber door.

“ (.‘ome in," said ()‘(lrudy.

Andy opened the, door, and popped in his head. “l
beg: your pardon, sir, but. ] kem for the jintleititm‘.;
portmantle."

“ What gentleman?" asked (l’lh-ady.

“The Honorable, sir; I tuk his portmantle. to the
wrong room, sir; and I'm come for it now, bekase he
wants it.”

“There’s no po‘tmanteau here," mid ll‘ul'long. '

“0 yin, sir,“ mid Andy: “i put it madher the bed.”

“ \Vcll, take it and be off," snid (Nb-ally.

“NO---n0'~ll()," said Flll‘lollgf, “don‘t distu‘b my
woom, it you please, till 1 how done dun-suing}

“ But; t .e Honorable, in (llll'l‘Shlllfl too, sir; and that?»
why he want 4 the portinantle."

“Take it, then," said the Squire.

Furlong was paralyzed, and could om 1- no further
resistance: Andy stooped, and liftiil;.,r the valanne ol‘
the bed to withdraw the wortmanleau, dropped it and-
denly, and exclaimed, “( h, Lordl"

“ What's the matter?" said the. Squir

“ Nothin', sir," said Andy, looking red.

“ Then take tho portmantlutu, and be Ili’llllfl‘d to

“0h, 1‘“ wait till the jintleman's done, sir,‘
And , rctirinlr.

“ hat the devil is all this about?" “aid the St uil‘e,
seeing the bewildonnent of Furlong,r and Andy. “ hat
is it at all?" and he stooped as he spoke, and lifted tho
valance. But here description must end, and im glut»
tion supply the scene of fury and confusion which sne-
ceeded. At the first lleree volln of imprecation
O‘Grady gave vent to, Andy ran off‘yand alarmed the
family, Augusta. screamed, and Furlong hold,t0r sup-
port by the bedpost, while, between every hurricane of
oaths, O‘Gnulyran to the door, and shouted for his
pistols, and anon returned to the chamber to vent
every abusive. e. iithct which could be. showered on man
and woman. T 10 prodigious uproar soon brought the
whole house to the spot; Mrs. O‘Grady and the two
Spare girls lllllOllj; the. tint; Mat, and the cook, and tho
scullion, and all the houscmaids in rapid succesuion;
and Scattcrbrain hinlsclt‘at last; O‘Grady all the time.
foamin ' at the mouth. stamping up and down the
room, r. 'ing his list at Furlong, and, after a. volley of
names in [Kissible to remember or print, always con—
eluding,r with the phrase, “ Wait till I get my pintolsl"

“Gusty, dcar,’ said his trembling wife, ‘ Whatis it
all about?"

He glared upon her with his flashinv e 03, and said,
“ Fine education you give. your chilc ren, ma‘am.
where have you brought up your daughters to goto,
e .

“ To church, in dear,“ said Mrs. O‘Grady, meekly;
for she being 3 onion Catholic, O‘Grady was very
jealous of his daughters being reared stmich Protest-
ants, and she, poor simple woman, thought that: Was the
drift of bin question. '

“Church, my eye, woman! Church indeed! ‘faith
she ought to have gone there before Slit‘. camel where
found her. Thunder nn‘ ouns,whr-re arc in lstolsi"

“ Where hue she gone to, my love?" ask t a wife in
a tremor. ’

‘ “To the (livllyma‘am.
in: said O’Grady.

   

 

 

on. "
said

Is that all you know about
“ And you wish to 'now where she

“Yes, love,“ said his wife.

“Then look under that bed, mama, and you‘llse
her Without s wtacles."

Mrs. O‘Grat y now gave a scream, and the girls and
the honscmalds jomed in the chorus. Aumista bel-
lowed from under the bod, “ Mammal mammal indeed
it's all Ratty~1 never did it." r

At this moment, to help the confusion, a fresh ap-
pearance made its way into the room; it was that: ol'
the Dowager O‘Grady—arraycd in all the bygone flnel'y
of faded nil-dress and the tin chimney-pot on her-
head' “ mt is .all this about?“ she exclaimed, with
an air of authority; "though my weather-cock tells
me the wind is: nor‘west, I did not expact such a storm.
15 any one killed?" I

“No,” said ()‘(irztdy; "but. somebody ,wlll be soon.
Where are my piston? Blood and first will nobody
brln me my pistols?“

‘, ‘crc they are, sir," mid Handy Andy, running in.

O (grady made a rush for tho pistols but his mother
and his Wife tbnw themselves before him. and Scatter-
brain shoved Andy outside the room.

‘Qonfound you, you numskulll would you give pis-
tols into the hands of a frantic man?"
‘ Sure, he ax‘d for them, sir," ’

“Go out o‘ tld<,,you bloekhendl Go and hide them
somewhere, where your master won’t find them."

Andy retired, muttering Something about: the hard-
ness of a. Servant's case, in being avoided and called
names for doing his master‘s bidding. Scatterbrahi
returned to the room, where. the eonl’naion was still in
full bloom; O‘Grally SW80.le between hi4 mother and
wife, While Furlong endeavored to explain how the

01mg lady happened to be in his room; and she kick-

ng in h stories amidst the maids and her siHlers, whilo
Scatter min ran to and fro between the parties, giving
an ear to Furlong, an eye to O'Grady, and amelllng
salts to his daughter. l I

The case was a hard one to a milder man than
O’Grady—hlu spatulatlon about Scatterbrain all knock-
ed on the head, for it «wold not be expected he would .
marry the lady who had been found under another
man's bed, . 'l‘lo'hush' the thing it ) would be impossible,
after the uthity his own fury ad given to the affair.
“ Would ' ie ever be married after such an affair wan
actual?" The quies{ti0n ribbed into his head on one side,
and the answeyr l‘l shed in at the other, and met it; with.
6 plum “ No! ‘—the question and answer then joined
hands 11 O‘Gmd "S mind, and danced down the width.

H Yes " he said, singling his forehead, “ she be
m at once." an tnrningto Furlong, said;
“You‘re not: married, 1h 1'" - v -‘

Furlong acknowledged he was not, though he mere
ted it the moment he had made the admlasi ‘
“"113 well for you,” mu O'Gmdy, 33);”?

1.

your life. You shall marry her, ‘

39m.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

thought of asking Furlong}; acquiescence in the meas-
ure. “ Come here, you baggage l” he cried to Augusta,
as he laid hold of her hand, and pulled her up from her
chair; “come here! I intended you for a better man;
but since you here such a hang-dog taste, why‘ go to
him!" And he shoved her over to Furlong. “ here!"
he said addressing him, “ take her, since you will have
her. e’ll speak of her fortune after."

The or girl stood ulmshed, sobbm aloud, and tears

ourei from her downcast eyes. Fur ongqu so utter-
y taken by surprise, that he was riveted to the spot
where he stood, and could not advance a step toward
his drooping intended. At this awkward moment, the
glorious old dowagor came to the rescue; she advanced
tin Chimllt‘Y‘IIOt and all, and takin a hand of each of
the principals in hers, sliejoined tiem together, in a
theatrical manner, and ejaculated, With a benignant
air, “ Bless 5011, my childrenl"

In the mi st of the mingled rage, confusion, fright,
and astonishment of the various parties present, there
was something so ox uisitely absurd in the old woman’s
proceeding, that near y every one felt inclined to laugh;

at the terror of O’Grady kept their risible faculties in
check. Fate, however, decreed the finale should be
comic; for the cook, suddenly recollectin herself, ex-
claimed, “ Oh, murther! the goose will bumedl"
and ran out of the room; a smothered burst of laughter
succeeded, which mused the ire of O’Grady, who, mak-
ing a charge right and left among the dehnquents, the
room was soon cleared, and the party dispersed in vari-
ous directions, O‘Grad ’s voice rising loud above the
Emeral confusion, as e swore his way down-stairs,

cking his mother‘s tin turban before him.

CHAPTER XVII.

. CANVABSING before an election resembles skirmishng
before a. battle—the skirmishing was OVer, and the ar-
rival of the Honorable Sackville Scatterbram was like
the first gun that commences an engagement—and now
both parties were to enter on the final strug is.

A joll group sat in Murphy's dining- or or on the
eve of t e day fixed for the nomination. itting points
of speeches were discussed— lans for bringing up vo-
ters—tricks to interrupt the usiness. of the opposite
party—certain allusions on the hustings that would
make the enemy lose temper; and, above all, every-
thing that could cheer and amuse the people, and make
them rejoice in their cause. _

“ Oh, et me alone for that much," said lilurtough.
“ I have engaged every piper and fiddler within twenty
miles round, and deVil a screech of a. chanter* or a.
scrape of catcut Scatterbrain can have for love or
money-that’s one grand point.”

“But ” said Tom Durfy, “ he has engaged the yen-
ma. and."

“ t of that?” asked Dick Dawson; “ a band is all
very well for making a. splash in the first procession to
the hiistings, but what good is it in working out the de-

“ What do you call details?" said Durfy.

“Why, the popular tunes in the public-houses and in
the tally-rooms, while the fellows are waiting to go up.
Then the dances in the evenmgl—Wow i—won‘t Scatter-
brain‘s lads look mighty shyw en they know the E ap-
ites are kicking their heels to " Moll in the Wad,’ w ile

17w? haven’t a lilt to shake their bones to?"

, ‘ To be sure,” said Murphy; “ we’ll have the desert—
ers to our cause from the enemy's camp before the
first night is ovcr;+ wait till the girls know where the
fiddlers are—and won't they make .the lads jom usl"

“Ibelieve a woman would do a deal for a dance,"
said Dr. Growling; “ they are immensely fond of salts-
to motion. I remember, once in my life, I used to
ill with a. little actress who was a great favorite in a

rovinclal town where I lived, and she was invited to a
all there, and confided to me she had up silk stockings
to appear i and without them her presence at the ball
was out of t e uestion."
m‘Ehat was a. int to you to buy the stockings,” said

0 .

“ No—you're out,” said Growlin . “She knew I was
as poor as herself- but though 3 8 could not rely on
my purse, she had every confidence in my taste and
judgment and consulted me on a plan she formed for

cling to the ball in proper twig. Now, what do you

i it was?"

“To go in cotton. I su ) ose,” returned. Dick.

“Out again, sir— ou never guess it; and only a
woman could have it on the expedient; it was the
fashion in those days for ladies in full dress to wear
pink stock' , and she proposed painfin her legs!“

“Paint' er legs!" t cy all exclaime .

“ Fact, 5 r," said the doctor; “and she relied on me
for telling her if the cheat was successful—"

“ And was it?“ asked Durfy.

“Don’t be in a bun , Tom. I complied on one con-
dition—namely, that should be the painter."

“ Oh, you Villain!" cried Dick. '

“ Acapital bargain i" said Tom Durfy.

“ But not a safe covenant,” added the attorney.

“ Don’t interrupt me, gentlemen,” said the doctor,
“I at some rose-gin]: accordmgl I, and I defy all the
hosfirs in Netting am to make a _ighter fit than I did
on little J inney; and a prettier pair of stockings I never

saw.”

“ And she went to the ball?” said Dick.

“ She did 1"

“And the trick succeeded?" added Durfy.

“ 80 com lately," said the doctor, that several
ladies askedlher to recommend her dyer to them! so
on see what a. woman will do to go to a. dance. Poor
ttle Jinneyl—she was a me I .mmx. By-the-by, she
boxed my ears that night for a joke I made about the
said I, “for fear your stockings

stocki s. ‘ J inne ,’
should all down w n you’re don -' , hadp’t you bet-
ter let me paint a painof arters on t em?

The fellows lau bed a the doctor‘s quaint conceit
about the arters, ut Murphy called them back to the
business 0 the election. ’

“What next?” he said, “public-houses and,tally-
rooms to have pipers and fiddlers—ay—‘and well get
up pa good a march, too, as Scatterbrain, With all is
yeomanry band; think a cartful of flddlers would have
aflnc effect I”

“If we’could only get a double-bass among them 1"

mid Dick. . u ,
“Talking of double-basses " said the doctor, . did

you ever hear the sic of the sailor in an adnnral s

ship, who, when some concert was to be given on

I
, “Hang our concerts and stories!“ said Mul'PhY;
' “ let us 30%!1 with the election."

—-—-
t

' tbeofa. i .
13$?fia‘fmmo'i‘fifimmm

 

 

-1,.—nm-_r , . A.“

“The New York Library.

Dawson together.

“ Well, sir,” continued the doctor, “ a. sailor was hand-
ingin, over the side, from a boat which bore the in-
struments from shore a at lot of fiddles. When
some tenors came into his and he said those were real
good-sized riddles; and when a Violoncello appeared,

ack, supposmg it was to be held between t e hand
and the shoulder like a violin, declared ‘ He must be a
strap ing chap that that fiddle belonged to!’ But when
the cubic-bass made its a pearance ‘My eyes and
 cried Jack, ‘ I would 1i 6 to see the chap as plays

a. . ’ ‘

“Well, doctor, are you done?" cried Murphy; “for,
if you are, now for the election. You say. Dick,
Majplr Dawson is to propose your brother-in-law '1"

l as .

“And he‘ll do it well, too; the major makes a very
good straightforward speech."

“Yes,” said Dick; “the old cock is not a bad hand
at it. But I have a. suspicion he’s oing to make a
greater oration than usual, and rang some long rig—
marolish old records.”

“That will never do," said Mu by; “as long as a
man looks Pat in the face, and ma 'es a good rattling
speech ‘out 0’ the face,’Pat will listen to him; but
whenalail takes to bee readings, Pat grows tired.
We must persuade the major to 've up the reading."

“Persuade my father!" cried ick.
ever hear of his giving u his own opinion?"

" If he could be prove ed on even to shortcn—" said

take care he‘ll not read a word.”

“ Manage that Dick, and you’re a jewel!"

“I will,” said Dick. “ I‘ll take the glasses out of his
spectacles the morning of the nomination, and then let
him read, if he can.”

_ “ gapital, Dick; and now the next point of discussion

“ supper, ready to come up,
opening the door.

“ Then, that’s the best thing we could discuss, boys,”
said Murphy to his friends—“so up with the su per,
Dan. Up with the supper! Up with the Egansl own
with the Scatterbrains ——hurra.h l — we’ll beat them

gayg'”
“ ollowl“ said Durfy. .
“ Not hollow,” said Dick; “ we’ll have a tussle for it.”
“ So much the better," cried Murphy; “ I would not
’ve a fig for an eas victory—theme no fun in it.
ive me the election t at is like a. race—now one ahead,
and then the other; the closeness callin out all the
energies of both fines—developing their tact and
inventign,,and, at t, the return secured by a large
ma ori .‘ .

“ ut think of the glor of a large one,” said Dick.

“ Ay," added Durf , “ sides crushing the hope of a
pe 1 ion on e 0 your enemy p own e

t't' th 1 to ull d th
majority."

“ But think of Murp ‘s enjoyment," said the doctor
“int defending the sea ,m say nothing of the bill 0
cos s.‘

“ You have me there, doctor,” said Murphy' “a fair
hit, I grant you; but see, the supper is on the table.
To it, my lads; to it! and then ajolly glasstodrink
success to our friend E an.”

And glass after lass hey did drink in all sorts and
shapes of well-Wis ‘ng toasts; in short, to have seen the
deep interest those men took in the success of their
friend, 111‘ ht have gladdened the heart of a inlan-
thro ist; t ough there is no knowing what ather
Mat ew had he flourished in those times, might have
said to their overflowing benevolence.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Tim mornin of nomination which dawned on Neck-
or-Nothing H saw a motley group of O’Grady‘s
retainers assembling in the stable-yard, and the out-
offlces rung to laugh and joke over a. rude but plentiful
breakfast—tea. and coffee, there, had no plackbut
meat, potatoes, milk, beer, and whisky were at the
option of the body-alarm which was selected for the
honor of escorting e wlld chief and his friend, the
candidate, into the town. 01! this party was the yeo-
manly-band of which Tom Durfy s oke, though, to say
the truth, considering Tom’s a pre ensions on the sub-
ject, it was of slender force. ne trumpet one clario-
net, aflfe, a big drum, and a pair of cymbals, with a.
“ real nig er ‘j to play them, were all the could muster.

Afterc eimngofl ever hing in the a e of break-
fast, the “musiciaan ' amused the m ers, from
time to time with a tune on the clarionet, fife, or
trumpet, whie they waited the appearance of the

arty from the house. Uproarlous mirth and noisy
joking rung round the dwelling, to winch none con-
tributed more largeliy than the trumpeter. who fancied
himself an immense y clever fellow, and had a heap of
cutand-dry jokes at his command, and pine iqai
drolleries in which he indulged to the great entertain-
ment of all, but of none more than Andy, who was in
the thick of the row, and in a. divided ecstacy between
the “blah: amour”: " turban and 315 and the trum-
peter’s jo es and music' the ttcr articles having a
certain resemblance, by-the-by, to the former in clum-
siness and noise,’ and therefore suited to Andy’s taste.
Whenever occasion offered Andy got near the big
drum, too, and gave it a. thump, delighted With the
result of his ambitious achievement. “

Andy was‘not lost on the trum ter; Arrah, maybe

ofid like til)1 have 8133:0111 at these?‘ said the joker,

o in u t e cym . _

“ Is i5; hgrd to play them, sir?" inquired Andy.

“ Hard 1” said the trumpeter; “ sure they’re not hard
at all—but as soft and smooth as satin maids—just feel
them—rub your fingers inside."

Andy obeyed; and his or was chopped between
the two brazen plates. An roared. t 6 film. t1621's
laughed, and the trumpeter triumphed in h th.
Sometimes he would come behind an unsus

sir," said a servant,

 

pecting
b90r. and give dose to his car, a discordant bray from
hwmmpet ' e the note of a jackass, which made him
Jump. and t a crowd roar-with merriment; _or, perils s,
when the clarionet or the fife was engaged in givn e
People a tune he would drown either, or both of t em)
11 a Wild ye of his instrument. As they could not
make repring u n him, he had his own way in play-
!“5 Whatever he ed for his audience; and in doing so
In lllged in all the airs of a great artist—pung out one
01‘0015 from another—blowing through them so , and
shaking the moisture from them in a tasty it? -
rn ll _.them with a. fastidious nicet —then, ter the

a fitment of the mouth-piece, ppin the instru-
ment With an aflectation exquisitely gro es lie; but
H0” he will 11/6 “Wm naked for another

 

“ Oh, the doctor’s storyl" cried Tom Durfy and Dick

" When did you .

Muighy. . ; watch how he could
“ b, leave him to me,” said Dick, laughing; "I‘ll'

, to

 

 

. ‘ AV01.I.

“it‘s not for myself," ho would sny. “but for the
thrumpet, the crayther; the divil a note she can blow
Without a din-op. ”

Then taking a mug of drink, he would present it to
the bell of the trum tnund afterward transfer it to
his own 11 s, always owmg to the instrument first, and
saving, “ ourhealth,ma’aml"

‘liis was another piece of delight to the mob, and
Andy- thought him the funniest fellow he ever met.
though he did chop his finger.

“Faix, sir, an” it is dlii'y work, I’m sure, playing the
thing.”

“th1” said the trumpeter, “’pon my ruffles and
tuckers—and that‘s a oambric oath—it‘s worse nor
a lime-burnin’, so it is—it makes a man’s throat as
parchcd as pays."

“ Who dar says pays?” cried the drummer.

“ prld your prate i” said the trunvpeter, elegantly,
and silencer all repl by playing a tune. As soon as it
was ended, he turnc to Andy and asked for a cork.

Andy gave it to him.

The man of jokes affected to put it into the trumpet.

“ What’s that for, sir.w asked Andy.

‘ “To bottle up the music," said the trumpeter—
flsure all the music would run about the place if I
didn‘t do that."

Andy gave a vague sort of “ha, ha!” as if he were
not quite sure whether the trumpeter was in jest or
earnest, and thought at the moment that to play the

i trumpet and practical 'okes must be the happiest life

in the world. Filled With this idea, Andy was on the
ossess himself of the trumpet, for
could he get one b ast on it, he would be happy: a
chance at last opened to him; after some time the
live] owner of the treasure laid down his instrument to
han e a handsome blackthorn which one of the remain
ers was displaying, and he made some flourishes with
the weapon to show that music was not his on] accom
plishment. Andy seized the opportunity and t 1e trum-
ggt, and made ofi’ to one of the sheds where they had

on regaling; and, shutting the door to secure him~
self from observation, he put the trumpet to his mouth
and distended his cheeks near to bursting with the vio~
lence of his efforts to produce a sound; but all his uff-
ing was unavailing for some minutes. At last it aint
cracked sgueak answered a more des crate blast than
before, an Andy was delighted. ” ‘verytliing must
have a beginning," thouwht Andy, "and maybe I’ll
get a tune out of it ct.” he tried again, and increased
in power; for a sor of strangled icrecch was the re-
sult. Andy was in ecstasy, and began to indulge vis-
ions of being one day a trumpeter; lie struttcd up and
down the shed like the original he so envied, and re-
peated some of the drollcries he heard him utter. He
also imitated his actions of giving a drink to the trum-
pet, and was more generous to the instrument than the
owpfr, for he really oured about half a pint of 'beer
d \ iits throat: be t en drank its health, and finished
by “bottling up the music," absolutely cramming a
cork into the trumpet. Now Andy, havm no idea the I
trumpeter made a sham of the action, ma. e a vigorous
pl eof a_goodl pork into the throat of the instru-
men , and. in so omg, the cork went further than he
intended: he tried to withdraw it, but his clumsy fin
rers, instead of extracting. only drove it in deeper—ha

came alarmed—and, seizing a fork, strove with its
asSistance to remedy the mischief he had done, but the
more he poked, the worse; and, in his fright, he thought
the safest thing he could do was to cram the cork out of
sight a1 ether, and having soon done that, he re-
turneélto t 6 yard, and laid down the trumpet unob-
serve .

Immediately after, the procession to the town
started. O’Grady gave orders that the party should
not be throwing away their powder and shot, as he
called it in untimely huuas and premature music.
“ Wait till you come to the town, boys,’ said he, “and
then ylou may smash away‘ as hard as you can; blow
your eads 011', and split t 6 SR ."

The pert‘ygcof Merryvale was motion for the place
of action a ut the same time, and a merrier pack of
rascals never was on the march. Murphy, in accord-
ance with his reconceived notion of a “fine eficct,"
had literall ‘ aicart full of fiddlers;” but the flddlers
hadn’t it a to themselves, for theie was another cart
full of ipers;_ and, by way of mockery to the grandeur
of Sea terbrain’s band, he had four or five boys with
gridirons, which they played upon with pokers, and

alf a dozen strappin ellows carrying large iron tea-
trafils, which they w opped after the manner of 8
Ch ese ong.

It so iap ned that the two roads from Morryvale
and Neckor- othing Hall met at an acute angle, at the
same end of the town, and it chanced that the rival
candidates and their retinues arrived at this point
about the same time _ ,

“ There the are!” said Murph , who presuied in the
cart. full of ii dIers like a leader u an orchestra, with a.
shillelah for 's baton which he flourished over his
head as he shouted, “ ow give it to them, your sowlsl
—ras and dill: away, boyrs l—slate the gridirons, Mikel—
sma dher the toy-tray, om!”

The 11 roar of strange sounds that followed, shouti
included: may be easier imagined than described an
Oct ady answering the war-cry, sun out to Mshand
——“ a are you at, you_lazy rascals —don’t you hear
them black uai-ds innng r—fire away, and be hanged
on!” is ' s shouted, b ,went the drum,
an clan went the cymbals, the c arionet squeaked,
and the fe touted, but the trumpet—ahl—the trum-
Bet—their great reliance—where was the trim t?

’Grad inquired iii the precise words, with a dis. li-
on} ad ition_of own. “Where the d— is the
trumpet?“ said he; he looked over the side of the car—
riage as he spoke, and .saw the trumpeter spitting out
a mouthful of beer which had run from the instrument
as he lifted it to his mouth.

" Bad luck to you, what are you wasting your time
there for?“ thundered O’Grady, in a rage; ‘w didn’t
you spit out when you were young, and you (1 be a
clean old man? Blow and be d—d to you!”

The trumpeter filled his lungs for a. great blast, and
But the trumpet to his lips— ut in vain; Andy had

ottlcd his muSic for him. O’Grad , seeing the inflated
cheeks and protruding eyes of t e muSician, whose
Vis e was crimson th exertion, and. yet no sound
p uced, thought the fellow was practi .one of his
iokes upon him, and became excessively in nt; he

hundered anathemas at him, but his voice was drown-
ed in the din of_ the drum and cymbals, which were
plied so vigoro , that the clarionet and fife shared

be same fate as 'Grady’s veice. The trumpeter could
Judge of O’Grady’s rage from the flerceness of his ac-
tions only, and answered inpantomiinic expresai
holding up his trumpet and painting into the balk 1%

4

 

 

 

3i.

6

 

No.9. r i

a grin of vexatlon on his )hiz, meant to ex .rcss sonic-
thiug was wrong; but t iis was all inista 'en by the
fierce O'Grady, who only saw in the trumpeter’s grins
t‘zic insolcnt intention of jihino him.

“ Blow, you blackguard, b ow!" shouted the squire.
Ban went the drum.

“ low—or I’ll break your neckl" Crash went the
cymbals. , ,

“Stop your banging there, you rufflans, and let me be
lieard!’ roared tho cxcitcd man; but as he was stand—
ing up on the seat of tho carriage, and flung his arms
about wildly as ho spoke, thc druiuuior thought his
action was meant to stimulate hilll to further exertion,
and he bangcd away louder than boforc.

“ By the hokcy, I‘ll murder some 0‘ ycl“ slioulcd tho
squire, who, ordoriirr the carriagc to pull up, thing open
the door and jumch out, made a rus at the drummer,
seized his principal drumstick and giving him a hang
over the head wiih it, cursed him for a rascal for not
stopping when he told him; this silenced all the instru-
ments together, and O’Gmdy, scizmg the trumpeter
by the back of the neck, shook hiiu Violently, while 111.5

cnouncod with flcrcé imprecations his insolcncc in
daring to practice a joke on him. The trumpeter pro—
tested his innocence, and O‘Gradycxillcd hnn alying
riscal, finishing his abuse by clenching his fist in a
menacing attitude, and telling him to play.

"I can t, yer honor!"

" You lie, you scoundrel!”

" There's something in the trumpet, sir."

1“ Yes, there’s music in it; and if you don‘t blow it out
o it—"

" I can‘t blow it out of it, sir."

“ Hold your prate, you rulfian; blow this minute."

“ Arrah, thry it yourself, sir,” said the frightened
man, handing the instrument to the squire.

“ D-n your impudcnce, you rascal; do you think I’d
blow anything that was in fyour dirty mouth? Blow, I
tell on, or it will be worse or you."

“ y the vartue o’ my oath, vour honor—J‘

“ B ow, I tell you i"

“ B the seven blessed candles—I"

“ B ow, I tell you!”

.“ The trum et is choked, sir." ,

“There wi be a trum cter choked, soon,“ said
O‘Grady, rippin him by t e neck-handkerchief, With
his knuckIes rea y to twist into his throat. I “B this
and that I’ll strangle you, if you don’t play this minute,
you humbui or.” , , ,

“By the cssed Virgin, I‘m not humbuggin your
honor," stamincred the trumpeterwith the little breath
O’Grady left him. _

Scatterbrain seein O’Grady's fury, and fearful of its
consequences, had a hted from the carriage and come
to the rescue, suggesting to the infuriatedD squire that
what the man said mig t be true. 0 Grady said he
knew better, that the blackguard was a notorious joker,
and havin indulged in a jest in the first instance, was
now only ying to save himself from punishment; fur-
thermore, swearing that if he did not play that minute
he'd throw him into the ditch. .

With great difficulty O‘Grady was prevailed upon to
give up the gripe of the ti'unipetl-r’s throat; and the

, poor breathless wrctcli, handing the instrument to the
‘ clarionet—pla er, appealed to him if it were possible to
)lay on it. be c arionet— layer said he could not tell,

- 'or he did not understand t e trumpet.

“ You see there!” cried O’Grady. “You see he‘s
humbugging, and the clarionet-player is an honest
man.

" An honest anl" exclaimed the trumpeter, turni
fiercer on t clarionet-player. “He‘s the bi gas
within unhanged for sthrivin' to at me miu't‘here and
refusin’ the evidence for me!" he man‘s eyes flash-
ed fury as he spoke, and throwing his trumpet down,
“ Mooneyl—by jabers, XOU’I'G no man 1" clenching his
fist as he spoke, he ma c a rush on the. clarionet- lay-
er, and planted a hit on his mouth With such Iv gor,
that he rolled in the dust; and when he rose, it was
with such an up er 1i) that his clarionet- laying was
evidentl flnishcg for t 6 next week certain y.

Now t e fifer was the clarionet-pla cr‘s brother; and
be, turning on the trumpeter, roai'c : I _ a.

< “ Bad luck to you l—you did not sthrek him fair!
But while in the very act of reprobating the foul
blow, he let fly under 1'. 8 car of the trumpeter, who
was uite unprepared for it, and he, too measured his
lengt on the road. 0n recovering his egs he rushed
on the titer for revenge, and a regular scuffle ensued
amon" “ the musicians ‘ to the great delight of the
crew of retainers, w 0 ,were so well primed With
whisky that a. fight was just the thing to their taste.
In vain O’Grady swore at them, and went amongst
them, striving to restore order, but they would not be
quiet till several black eyes and damaged noses bore
evidence of a busy five minutes havmg passed. In the
course of "the scrimmage,” Fate was unkind to the
flfer, whose mouth-piece was consxderably impaired;
and “the boys " remarked that the. worst stick”you
could have in a crowd was a “Whistling stick, by
which name they designated the flfer’s instrument.
At last, however, peace was restored, and the trump-
eter again ordered to play by .0 Grady.
He protested, again, it was imposSi lo. I
The fifer, in revenge, declared he was only humbug-
31% the Squire. 

ereupon O’Grady, seizmg the unfortunate trumpet-
er, ave him a more sublime kicking than ever fell
to Lie lot of even piper or fiddler, whose pay“ is pro-
verbially oftener in that article than the com of the

r m. a
Having tired himself, and considerably rubbed down
the too of his boot with his gentlemanly exercisei
O’Grody dragged the trumpeter to the ditch, and roller
him into it, t ere to cool the fever which burned in his
seat of honor.
O‘Grady then re-entered the carriage with Scatter-
v brain, and the pgarty proceeded; but the elm-lonel-
player could not low a. note; the fifer was not in good
playng condition, and tooth with some difficulty' the
drummer was obliged now and then to relax his eulorts
in making a noise that he might lift his right, arm to
his nose, which had 0t damaged in the tray, and the
process of wime his face with his cufl' changed the
white fac' s of his jacket to red. The negro cymbal-
layer was t 9 only one whose damages were not to
geasoeytained, as a black eye w0uld not tell on him
and his lips could not be more swollen than nature ha
made them. On the procession went, however; but the
rival mob, the unites, profiting by the dela caused
b the row. got ,and entered the town , . With
1: air pipers and flddlers, humming their way in good

* Fiddler’s fare, or piper’s pay—more W disam-
Wv ' ‘ ‘ > _

r

WHalldY Midi?"

humor down the street, and occupying the best places
in the court-house before the arrival of the opposite
party, whose band, instead of being a source of
triuni h, was only a. thing of jeering merriment to the
Egani cs, who received them with mocker and laugh-
ter. All this b no means sweetened 0’ rady’s tem-
pcr who locke thunder as .he entered the court-house
wit 1 his candidate, who was, though a ood-huniored
follow, a little put out by the accidentso the mornin, ;
l and Furlong looked more sheepish than ever, as lie (’0 —
.‘ lowed his leaders.
l The business of the day was opened by the high-
shcrifi’ and Major Dawson lost no time in i-isiiigi‘o pro-
, pose, that Edward Egan, Esquire, 01' Merryvale, was a
(it and proper person to represent the county in parlia—
ment.
The pro osition was received with cheers by “ the
boys ” int ic body of tho court—house; the Major pro-
ceeded, full sail, in his speech—his course aide by he‘

[ the multitude blowing in his favor. 0n concluding (as
“ the boys " thou ht) his. address, which was straight-
forward and to he )omt, avoice in the crowd pro-
posed “ Three cheers or the owld Major." Three deaf-
ening perils followed the. hint.

“And now," said the Major, “1 will read a few ex—
tracts here from some documents, in support of what I
have had the honor of addressing to you.” And he
pulled out a bundle of papers as he spoke, and laid
them down before bun.

'Tlie movement was not favored by “the boys,” as it
indicated a tedious reference to facts by no means to
their taste, and the same voice that suggested the
three cheers, now sung out:

t “Never mind, Major—sure we‘ll take your word for
i l“

Cries of “ Order!" and “ Silence!" ensued; and were
followed by murmurs, 001 *hs and sneezes in the
crowd, with a considerable s ufiiing of hobnaifed shoes
on the avement. . _

“ Ora erl” cried a vows in authority.

“Order anything you plaza, sirl’ said the voice in
the crowd.

“ Whisky l" cried one.

“ Porther!” cried another.

“ Tabakkyl" roared a third.

“ I must insist on silence l” cried the sheriff, in a. very
husky voicc. “SilenceI—or I‘ll have the court-house
cleared.”

“Faith, if you cleared our own throat it would be
better," said the wag in t e crowd.

.lA lélugll followed. The sherifl! felt the hit, and was
s1 en .

The Major all this time had been adjusting his spec-
tacles on his nose, unconscious, poor old gentleman,
thit Dick, according to promise, had abstracted the
glasses from them that morning. He took up his docu-
ments to read, made sundry wry faces, turned the
papers up to the light,——now on this side, and now on
that—«but could make out nothing; while Dick gave a
knowing wink at Murphy. The old gentleman took ofl‘
his spectacles to wipe the glasses.

The voice in the crowd cried, “ Thank you, Major.”

The Major pulled out his handkerchief, and his fln-
gers met where he expected to find a lensz—he looked
ycry angry, cast a suspicious glance at Dick, who .met
it. with the com sure of an anchorlte, and quietly
asked what was a matter. l

“I shall not trouble you, gentlemen, with} the ex-
tracts,” said the Major.
d1: Hear, hear," responded the genteel part of the au-

ory.

“ I tould yopowe'd take your word, Major,” cried the
voice in the c wd. ' ,

Egan‘s seconder followed the Major, and the crowd
shouted again. O’Grad now came forward to propose

,the Honorable Sackvil e Scatterbrain, as a fit and
roper person to refisent the countyin parliament.

e was received by ' own set of vagabonds with up-
roarious cheers, and "O’G-rad for everl“ made the
walls ring. “Egan for cvcrl’ and burnt, were re-
turned from the Merryvallans. O‘Grady thus com-
menced his address:

“ In com' forward to support my honorable friend,
the Houorabe Sackvflle Scatterbrain, it is from the
conviction—the cOiiviction—"

“ Who got the conviction agen the potteen last
sisliim" said the voice in the crowd.

Loud groans followed this allusion to the rosecution
of a few little private stills, in which 0 Grad had
shown some unnecessary erlty that made 11 up-
popular. Cries of f‘Orderl’ and 'Silencel”ensued.

‘ I say the conVictlon,” repeated O’Grady,flercely,
looking toward the uartcr whence the interruption
took place—“and if t are is any blac iard here who
dares to interrupt me, I’ll order him to e taken out by
the ears. I so, , I propose my honorable friend, the
Honorable Sac ville Scattel'bram. from the conviction
that there is a necessity in this comit -—" .

“Faith, there is lenty of necess ty," said the tor-
menter in the crow . . ' I

“Take that man out," said the sheriff.

“Don’t hurry ourself, Slr," returned the delln uent,

E3:

 

whose merriment rose O‘qrady‘s . umor.

" I say there is a necessity for a vigorous member to
represent this county in parliament, and support the
laws, the constitution, the crown, and the— o—inter—
ests of the country!" . _

“ Who made the new road?" was a question that now
arose from the crowd—a la h followed—and some
groans at this allusion to a. blb-Of jobbing on the part
of O'Grady, who got a nd jury presentment to make
a road which served no y’s interest but his own.

“The frequent interruptions I meet. here from the
lawless and disaffected show mo plainly that we stand
in need 015i1 men who will support 6 arm of the law in

u ' t e countr . . :

p ‘Ffiilxligo killed the l,pothecai'y ?” said a fellow, in avolce
30 diep as seemed fit only to issue from the jaws of

cat . , ,

The question, and the extraOrdmary voice in which it
was uttered, produced one of those roars of laughter
which sometimes shake public meetings in Ireland; and
O’Grady grew furious.

“If I knew who that gentleman was, In pay hjmyv

I

said he. .

“ You’d better pay Film 7?“ ml," was the answer;
and this allusxon o O Grady s notorious character of a.
bad payer was relished by the crowd, and again raised

the la b age-Infill - ,

“ Sii-tg’ said O’Grady. ad . the sheriff, “Ibold
rufflanismm contem t. I treat 1 and the authors of
it, those who no don t have instructed them with con-
...pi." Ho'looked over to when Egan and his friends

 

ii
9 .

in: on the, popular current, and the “ sweet. voices " of l

amidst the lung ter of "the boylilsf‘l’lin proper on to,

23

stood, as he, spoke of the crowd having had instruction
to interrupt him.
l “If you mean, sir," said E an “thatl have viven
any such instructions, I deny, iii the most unqu ‘ cd
I
I
l
l

 

terms, the truth of such an assertion.” ,

“ Keep yourself cool, Ned,” said Dick Dawson, close

to his ear.

“Never fear me," said Egan; “but I won’t let him

bully."
The two former friends now exchanged rather fierce
looks at each other.

“ 'l‘ll‘ell why am I interrupted ?" askcd O’Grady.

“It is no business of mine to answer that,” replicd
‘ Egan; " but I rcpcat the unqualified denial of your as-
‘ scrtion." '

l The crowd ceased its noiso when the two Squires
were seen engaged in exchiuigiug smart words, in the

i hopcspf catching what they said.

i ‘ It is adisgraccful uproar,” said the shei'iif.

I “Then it is your business, Mister Sheriff," returned

5’ Egan, “ to suppress it—not mine; they are quiet enough

, now.”

i “Yes, but the ’11 make a wow again," said Furlong,
“ when Miste’ O Gwady be rins.”

“You seem to know alla out it," said Dick; “maybe
you have insti'uctcd them.”

“ No, sir, I didn‘t instwuct them," said Furlong, very
an ry at being twitlcd by Dick.

ick laughed in his face, and said, “Maybe that’s
some of your clccl iouocring tuctics-«chw

Furlong rot very angry, while Dick and Murphy
shouted wit lau hter at him. “ No, sir," said Furlong,
“ I donut welish t c pwactice of such di‘ty twicks."

“‘Do you apply the word ‘dirty' to me, sir?" said
Dick the Devi, rufiling up like a game-cock. “I’ll tell
you what, sir, if you make use of the word ‘dirt ’

ain, I‘d think very little of kicking you——ay, or big t
ll 0 ou—«I‘ll kick eight Furlongs one mile.“

“ 0’s talking of kicking?" asked O'Grady.

“ I am ” said Dick, “ do you want. any?"

“Gent omen! gentlemen!" cried the sheriff, “orderl
pra orderl do proceed vn'th the business of the day."

“ ’ll talk to you after about this!” said O’Grady, in a
threatening tone,

“Very well," said Dick; ‘! we‘ve time enough, the
da ‘5 young yet.”

‘Grady thcnproceeded to find fault with an cen-
suring his politics, and endeavorin to justi y his de-
fection from the same cause. 6 concluded thus:
“Sir, I shall pursue my course of dut ; I have chalked
out in ‘ own inc of conduct, sir, and am convinced no
other no is the right line. Our op onents are wrong
Sin—yuan wrong—all wrong; am, as I have said i
have ch ked out my own line, sir, and I pro ose the
Honorable Sackvillc Scatterbraln as a fit an pro or
perscin to sit in parliament for the representation of t is
coun y.“

The O‘Gradyites shouted as their chief concluded;
and the Morryvahaus returned some groans, and a cry
of “ Go home, turiicoatl“ .

Egan now presented himself, and was received with
deafening and long-continued cheers, for he was really
beloved by the people at large- his frank and easy na-
ture, the amiab e c aracter lie bore in all his social re-
lations, the merciful and conciliatory tendency of his
decisions and conduct as a magistrate, won him the
solid res act as well as infection of the county.

He 11 been for some days _in low spirits in conse-
quence of Larry Hogan‘s visa and mysterious com-
munication with him; but. this, its cause, was unknown
to all but himself, and therefore more difficult to sup-
girt- for none but those whom sad experience has

uglit can tell the agony of endiu-lng in secret and in
that gnaws a proud heart, which,
let the tooth destroy, without com-

slleuce the pa
S artan like, w’
p filltgl‘ murii'nur.h
.is c ress on, owever, was a arent and Dick told
Murphy he feared Ned would noFEe up to the mark at
the election; but Mu by, with a better knowledge of
human nature, and t e excitement of such a cause,
said, “Never fear him—ambition is a long spur, my
boy, and Will stir the blood of a thicker-skinned fellow
than your brother-ln-law. When he comes to stand 11
andltassert his claims before the world, he’ll be
m y. ,
m by was a true pro hot, for Egan presean him-
self w th confidence, b htness, and good humor on

his 0 en countenance.
sk of you, be ,." said

E1; 3d?“ ihi I have i3 h
an ress a e assem thro “is a an,
lug fdi- the Othgl? candidate." ng’ ' .

Hear, hear," followed from the gentlemen in the

gallery.

“ And, as he‘s a stra er among us, let him have the
privilege of first address ng you.‘ .

With these words he bowed courteously to Scatter-
bl‘am. W110 thanked him very much like a gentleman,
and accgnlng his offer, advanced to address the elect-
ors. . 0’ rady waved his hand in signal to his body-
guard, and Scatterbrain had three cheerafrom the rag-
anIipmns. ak b q h \

= ewas no ‘eat thin s o .a s e er, u ewasa
goodbumorcdglfellow agd this “you on the Paddles;
and although coming before them under the disadvant-
age of being proposed by O‘Grady they heard him
w th. 00d temper—t0 this. however, ‘gan s good word
consi ei‘ably contributed _

He went very much over the ground his proposer had.
taken so that, hating the bad .tempcr, the pith of his
s eech was much the some, quite as much deprecatlng

6 political views of his opponent, and liarpin on
O‘Grady’s worn-out catch-word of ‘Huvlng cha‘lked
out a. line for himself," etc, 6120., etc. ‘

Egan now stood forward, and was reeled With fresh
cheers He he an in a very Irish ashion; for be
an unaffected, Irank, and nee-hearted l'cllow hims
he knew how to touch the feelings of those who
such qualities. He'walted till the last echo of cup;
roarious greeting (lied away, and the first simple war
he‘ ufiterclil weregoys l“

‘ ere am .

Simple as these words were, they produced “on.
cheer more. " 7

“ Here I am, boys—the same I ever wan." l

Loud huzzas and “Long life to you!“ answered the
last pithy words which were sore ones to O’Grsdy,
who ass renegade, felt the hit.

who speak ill of their own country. I never did i
boys, and I never will! Some think they get on by i2

 

i

n

/

“ll'elIOW-countrymen, I come forward to recent
on, and however I‘ may be unequal to that
least I will never misrepresent you.”
Another cheer followed.
“MI life is evidence one 11 on that int: ,
God or id Iwere of the mongrel read of I ' em

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

. ..__. . 

Vol. I.

 

 


old so they do, indeed; they get on as sweeps and
shoc-hhtcks get Ollwult‘y drive a dirty trade and find

a m iioymcnt’ but are they respected?”

S iouts oi" Nolmnoi”

“ You‘re right! -Noi—tlioy are not respected—even
by their very employers. Your oliticu. sweep and
i: mic—black is no more respected huii he who cleans
o. u' chimneys or cleans our shoes. The honorable gen-
tleman who has addressed you last confesses he is a
poi-anger among you; and is he, a stranger, to be {our
i-v-prcseiil at ive? on may be civil to a stranger—i is a
pleasing: duty—bin. he is not the man to whom you
would rive your confidence. You might share a hearty
glass with a stranger, but. you would not enter into a
joint lease of a form without knowiiiga little more of
him; and if you would not trust a single farm with a
stranger, will you give a whole county into his hands?
When a stranger comes to these parts, I’m sure he'll
get a civil answer from every man I see here—he will
get a civil ‘ycs ‘ or a civil ‘ no ’ to his uestions; and if
he socks his way, you will Show him is mad. As to
the honorable gentleman who has done you the favor
to come and ask on civilly, will on give him the
county, you as civi ly may answer ‘ o,‘ and show him
his mail honer agrri/t. (‘ So we will.’) As for the gentle»
man who proposed him, he has chosen to make certain
strictures upon my views, and o inions, and conduct.
As for views—there was a certain ieathen god the R0-
mans worshiped, called Janus; he was a fellow with
two lieudswaiid by-thc—liy, boys, he would have been
lust the follow to live among us‘ for when one of his

icuds was broken he would have had the other for use.
\Vell, this J anus was called ‘double-face,’ and could see
before and behind him. Now I’m no double- (we, boys;
and as for seeing before and behind me, can look
back on the past and forward to the future, and both
the roads are straight omit. tCheers.) I wish eve one
could say as much. As for m opinions, all I sha I say
is, 1 never changed mirw; r. O.‘Grady can’t say as
much."

“ Sure there’s a weathercock in the family,” said the
voice in the crowd.

A loud laugh followed this sally, for the old dow-
ager‘s eccentricity was not quite a secret. O‘Grady
looked as if he could have eaten the whole crowd at a.
mouthful.

“ Much has been said,” continued Egan, “ about gen-
tlemen chalking out lines for themselves; now, the
lain English of this determined chalking of their mm.
ine is rubbing nut eucry ot/mr man’s lint. (Bravo.
Some of these chalking gentlemen have lines chalke
up against them, and might find it difficult to my the
score if they Were called to account: To such, rubbing
out other men's lines, and their own, too, ma be con-
venient; but I don 't like the practice. Boys, have no
more to say than this, We hnow,and can trust each

other!” A

Egan’s address was received with acclamation, and

when silence was restored, the sheriff demanded a
‘ show of hands; and a very fine show of hands there
was, and ere/fly hand had a stick in it. .

The show of bands was declared to be in favor of
Egan, whereupon a. poll was demanded on the part of
Scatterbrain, after which every one began to move
from the court—house. _

i O’Gmdy, in very ill-humor, was endeavoring to shove
past a hei‘cuiefln fellow, rather ragged and very saucy,
who did not seem inclined to give place to the savage
elbowing of the Squire.

“What brings such a ragged rascal as you here?”
said 1 )‘(iritdy, brutally; “you’re not an elector.“

“ Yis, I am i” replied the fellow, stiirdily.

“ Why, you can‘t have a lease, you beggar.”

“ No, but maybe I have an article.” *

“What is your article?"

“What is it?” retorteil the fellow, with a fierce look
at O‘Grudy. “ Faith, it‘s a fine brass blunderbuss; and
I‘d like to see Ilm man would diqmte the title.”

O’Grady had met his master, and could not reply;
the crowd shouted for the amuffln, and all parties
aeplarated, to gird up their oins for the next day's
'00

CHAPTER XIX. ’

AFTER the angry words exchanged at the nomination,
the most pcaccable reader must have anticipated the
probability of a duel; but when the inflammable stuff of
which Irishmi n are made is considered, together with
the excitcme t and pugnacious spirit attendant upon

elections in all places, the certainty of a hostile meet--

ing must have been apparent. The sheriff might have
put the gentlemen under arrest, it is true, but that offl-
cer was a weak, thoughtless, irresolute person, and
took no such precaution; though, to do the poor man
justice, it is only fair to say that such an intervention
of authoritv at such a. time and place would be consid-
ered on all hands as a very impertiuent, unjustifiable,
and discourteous interference with the private pleas-
ures and privileges of gentlemen. '

Dick Dawson had a message conveyed tohim from
O’Grady, requesting the honor of his company the
next morning to “grass before breakfast!” to which,
of course, Dick returned an answer egpressive of the
utmost readiness to obli e the Squire With his presence;
and, as the business of t ic election was of importance,
it was agreed they should meet at a given spot on the
w: to the town, and so [use as little time as pos—
si e

The next morning, accordingly, the arties met at
the appointed place, Dick attended by dward O‘Con-
nor and Egan — the former in the. capacity of his
friend; and O’Grady, with Scatterbrain for his second,
and Furlong a looker‘ou; there were_ some straggling
spectators besides, to witness the affair.

“O’Grady looks savage, Dick,” said Edward.

“Yes,” answered Dick, with a smile of as much un-
concern as if he were going to lead ad a country dance.
“ He looks as pleasant as a bull in a pound.’ _

“ Take care of yourself, my dear Dick," said Edward,
seriously. _

“ My dear boy, don’t make yourself uneasy," rephed
Dick, laughing. “I'll bet you two to one he misses
mc.‘

Edward made no reply, but, to his sensitive and more
thoughtful nature, bettng at such a moment savored
too much of levity, so, leaving his friend, he advanced
to Scatterbrain, and they commenced making the pre-
liminary prepaiations.. ‘

' Durin the period which this r uired, O’Grady was
looking own suikily or looking up ercel [and striking
his lif‘el with velieinence into the sod, w e Dick Daw-
son was whistiiug a plan xty and eying his man.

* A name given to a written engagement between
landlord and h.‘.l.‘.l1t, promising to grant a lease. on
which regisratiun is allowed iii Ireland.

 

 

The New York Library. '

The arrangements were soon made, the men laced
on their ground, and Dick saw by the intent 100 with
which 0' ‘rady marked him, that he meant mischief;
they were handed their pistols, the seconds retired,
the word was given, and as O'Grad raised his istol,
Dick saw he was completely covere , and sudden y ex-
claimed, throwing up his arm, “I beg your pardon for
a moment.”

O’Grady involuntarily lowered his weapon, and see-
ing Dick standing perfectly erect, and nothing follow-
ing his sudden request for this suspension of hostilities,
as ed, in a very angry tone, why he had interru ted ‘
him. “ Because I saw you had me covered," said ick,
“ and you’d have hit me if you had flred that time; now
fire away as soon asyou like!” added he, at the same
{nonlient rapidly bringing up his own pistol to the

eve .

()‘Grady was taken by surprise, and faucyiiig Dick
was going to blaze at him, fired hastily, and missed his
adversary. A .

Dick made him a low bow, and fired in the air.

O’Grzuly wanted another shot saying Dawson liad
tricked him, but Scatterbrain elt the propriety of
Edward O'Connor’s ob'ection to further fighting, after
Dawson receiving 0' rady’s fire; so the ciitleinen
weredremoved from the ground and thus. air termi‘
nate . '

O‘Grady, having fully intended to pink Dick, was ex-
cessively savvage at being overreached, and went off to
the election th a temper by no means sweetened b
the morning’s adventure, while Dick roared wit i
laughing, exclaiming at intervals to Edward O‘Connor,
as he; was putting up his pistols, “Did not I do him
neat y ’

Ofl they cantered a lyto the h' h road, exchanging
merry and cheering gsafutations wigh the electors, who
were throng-lug toward the town in great numbers
and all variety of manner, group, and costume, some
on foot, some on horseback, and some on cars- the ay-
est show of holida attire contrasting with t e ev ry-
day rags of wretc edness; the fresh cheek of health
and beauty making gaunt misery look more appalhng,
and the elastic ste of vi orous youth outstripping the
tardy pace of feeh e age. edestrians were hurrying on
in detachments of five or six—the equestrians in com-
panies less numerous; sometimes the cavalier who
could boast a saddle carrying a woman on a pilhon be-
hind him. But saddle or pillion were not; an indis-
pensible accompaniment to this equestrian duo, for
many a “bareback” arran carried his couple, his
only harness being a ter made of hay-rope which in
time of need sometimes proves a substitute for “ rack
and manger,” for it is not uncommon in Ireland to see
the garran nibbling at the end of his bridle when oppor-
tunity offers. The cars were in great variety; some
bore small kishes,‘ in which a woman and some chil-
dren might. be seen; others had a. shakedown of clean
straw to serve for ‘ons; while the better sort
spread a feather-bed for greater comfort, covered by a
patchwork quilt, the workof the “ good woman ” her»
self, whose own quilted petticoat vied in brightness
with the calico roses on which she was sitting. The
most luxurious lndul ed still further in some arched
branches of hazel, w ich, bent above the car in the
fashion of a booth, bore another coverlid by wa of
awning, and served for protection against t e weat er;
but few there were who could indulge in such a luxury
as this of the “chaise marine ” which is the name the
contrivance bears, but why, eaven only knows.

The street of the town had its center occupied at the
broadest place with a lon row of cars, covered in a
similar manner to the cha e marine, a door or shutter
laid across underneath the awnin , after the fashion of
acounter, on which various artic as were displayed for
sale' for the occasion of the election was as good as
a fair to the small dealers and the public were there-
fore favored with the us opfirtunity of purchasing
uneatable gingerbread, knives t twou d not cut, spec-
tacles to increase blindness, and other articles of equal
usefulness.

While the dealers here displayed their ware, and were
vociferous in declaring its excellence, noisy Lglii'pups
passed up and down on either side of these amb wry
shops, discussin the merits of the candidates, predict-
ing the result 0 the election, or givingan occasional
cheer for their respective parties, With the mid of a
stick or the throwing up of a hat; while from the houses
on both sides of the street the scraping of _ flddles and
the lilting of pipes increased the mingled din.

But the crowd was thickest and the uproar-greatest:
in front of the inn where Scatterbrain’s committee sat,
and before the house of Murphy, who ave up all his
establishment to the service of t is elec on, and whose
stable-yard made a capital place of musteriug for the
tallies of E an‘s electors to assemble ere they marched
to the . At last the hour far opening the poll
struck, t e inn poured forth the Scatterbrams, and
Murphy‘s stable-yard the Eganites, the two bodies of
electors uttering thundering shouts of defiance, as,
with rival banners flying they joined in one common
stream rushing to we their votes-for as for their
voices, t ey were i ng them most liberally and strenu-
ously alreadfy. e dense crowd soon surrounded the
hustings in rent of the court-house and the throes and
heavings of this living mass resem led a. turbulent sea
lac ed by a tempetz—but what sea is more unnin
than an excited crowd ?-—what tempest flercer than the
breath of political excitement?

Conspicuous among those on the busting‘s were both
the candidates, and their aiders‘and abetmrs on either
side—O’Grady and Furlong, Dick Dawson and Tom
Durf for work, and Growlin to laugh at them all. Ed-

O‘Connor was address ng the populace in a spirit-
stiri'ing appeal to their pride and affections, stimulating
them to sup rttheir tried and trusty_friend, and not
yield the Egnor of their county either to fears
or favors of a stranger, nor cop]! the bad example
which some (who ought to blu )bad set them, of
betraying old friends and abandoning old principles.
Edward’s address was cheered b those who heard it
—but being heard is not essen to the applause
attendant on political addI‘eSSes, for those who 0 not
hear cheer quite as much as those who do. The old
adage hath it, “ Show me your company and I ll tell
you Who you are;” and in the spirit of the e one
might say “let me see the s ech-maker, an' 11 tell

on who he says.” so, when ed O‘Connor spoke, the
ysiweloomed him with a shout of “Ned of the Hill
forever!" and knowingto what i; ne his mouth would
be opened: the cheered woo ' ly,when be con-
clude. 0G ,on em a esire toad
them, was not s‘osuccessful; e moment he showed

* A large basket of coarse wicker-work, used mostly
for carrying turf—Anglia, peat. 1

 

 

\

himself, taunts were flung at him; but. spite of this, at-
tempting to frown down their dissatisfaction, he began
to speak; but he had not uttered six words when his
voice was drowned in the discordant yells of a truin
pet. It is scarcely necessary to tell the reader that the
performer was the identical trumpeter of the preceding;
day, whom ()‘Grnd had kicked so uninercifully, who,
in indignation at iis wrongs, had one over to tho
61101111)" and havin 1', after a night’s ard work, discn~
gager the cork w ich Andy had crammed into his
trumpet, appeared in the crowd, ready to do butlle iu
the popular cause-“ Wait," he cried, ‘ till that savage
haste of a Squire dares for to o for to spaket—wou't I
smother him!” Then he won (1 put his instrument of
\‘en ennce to his lips, and produce a yell that made his
auditors put their hands to their ears. Thus armed, he
waited near the platform for O‘Grady’s speech, and
put his threat effectually into execution. O’Grad saw
whence the annoyance proceeded, and shook his ist at
the delinquent, with irotestntions that the police
should drag him from t e crowd, if he dared to com
mine: but every threat was blighted iii the bud by the
Withering blast of a truiiipei, which was regularly fol-
lowed b a pea] of laughter from the crowd. O’G rudy
stamped' and swore with rage, and calling Furlong
sent iim to inform the sheriff how riotous the crow

were, and requested him to haw the trumpeter seized.

Furlong hurried off on his mission, and aftera long
search for the potential fuiictionary, saw hiui in a dis‘
taut corner engaged in what appeared to be an urgent
discussion between him and lurtough Murphy, who
was talking in the most jocuiur manner to the sheriff,
who seemed anything but amused with his argumenta-
tive merriment. The act was, Murphy,while pushin the
interests of Egan, with an ener y unsurpassed, id it
with the utmost cheerfulness, and gave his opponents
a laugh in exchange for the point ained against them,
and while he defeated, amused tiem. Furlong, after
shoving and elbowm his way through the crowd, suf-
ferin rom heat an exertion, came fuming up to the
sheriff}, wiping his face with a scented cainbric pocket-
handkerchief. The sheriff and Murphy were standing
close beside one of the polling-desks, and on Furlon ’s
lisping out “Miste‘ Shewiff,” Murphy recognizing t e
veice and manner, turned sudden] round, and with
the most provoking cordiality ad reused him thus,
with a smi e and a nod: ‘

“ Ahi Mister Furlong, how d‘ye d0?—<lelighted to see
you; here we are at it, sir, hammer and tongs—of
course you are come to vote for Egan 1'"

Furlong, who intended to annihilate Murphy with an
indignant repetition of the provoking question put to
him, threw as much of defiance as he could in his
namby- amby manner, and exclaimed:

“ Ivo e for Egan!"

“Thank you, sir,” said Murphy. “ Record the vote,”
added he to the clerk. '

There was loud laughter on one side and anger as
loud on the other, at t e way in which Mu by had en-
trapped Furlo and cheated him into vo in against
his own party. vain the poor gull pmtestefhe never
meant to vote for E an. i

“ But you did it,’ cried Murphy.

“What the deuce havs you done?" cried Scatter—
bralns’ agent, in a r e.

“ Of course the nowI wouldn‘t vote that way,"
said Furlong. “ couldn‘t vote that way~it‘s a mis-
take and I pwotest against the twick.”

“ e‘ve got the trick,and We‘ll keep it, however,”
said Mu y, I

Scatter ram’s agent said ’twas unfair, and desired
the oiling-clerk not to record the vote.

“ idn‘t every one hear him say, ‘ I rote for Egan !'
asked Murphcy. I _

“ But be ill n’t mean it, Sir,” said the agent.

“I don't care what he meant, but I know he said it,"
retorted Murphy; “and ever one round knows he
said it; and as mean what say myself, I an pose
every other entlemmi does the same—down wit the
vote, Mgi‘sfier ollin -clerk.‘; k I b t h

A. re ar wrang 9 now 00 p ace 8 ween t e two
agents, amidst the laughter of the bystanders, whose
merriment was increased by Ful‘lOilF’S vehement; 39
surances he did not mean to vote as rphy wanted to
make it appear he had; but the more he rotested, the
more the people laughed. This increase his energy in
fighting out the pomt, until Scatterbrain‘s u out re-
commendedhim to desist, for that he was 0 y inter-
rupting their own voters from coming up. ‘ Never
in nd now, 811' ” said the agent; “ I’ll appeal to the as-
sessor about that vote.” I

" Appeal as much as you like," said Murtough; “ that
yote is as dead as a herring to you.”

Furlon , finding further remonstrance unavailing as
regarded is vote, delivered to the sheriff the mes e
of O’Grady, who was boiling over With impatience, in
the meantime, at the delay of his messenger, and anx-
iously expecting the arrival of the sherifl and police to
coerce the villainous trumpeter and chastise the ap-
plauding crowd, which became worse and worse every
minute. .

They exhibited _a new source of provocation to
O‘Grady byl exposmg a. rat-trap hung at the end of a

le, With t e caged vermm Within, and vociferated

‘ Rat, rat," in the pauses of the trumpet. Scatterbrain,

rememberin the caring they ave him the review:
day, ho )ed Silence them, an be ad 0‘ rady to
permit lm to address them; but the w im of the mob
was up and could not be cast] diverted, and Scatter,
brain imself was hailed wi h the name of “Rat-
catcher." . _

“ Ypu catch him—and I Wish you joy of him i" cried
one.

“ How much did you give for him i” shouted another.

“ What did on bail: your thi‘ap with?" roared a third.

“A bit 0’ (yummy bacon," was the answer from a
stentorian vmce amidst the multitude, who shouted
with laughter at the aplt rejoinder, which they reiter-
ated from one end of t e crowd to the other, and the

of “ threasury bacon" rung far and wide.

catterbrain and O’Grad consulted together on the
hustings what was to be one, While Dick the Devil
was throwing jokes to the crowd, and inflaming their
mischievous merriment, andGrowling looking on with
an expression of internal delight at the fun uproar,
and vexation around  It was just a dish to a taste,
and he devoured it with Silent satisfaction.

“ What the deuce keeps that sneaking dandy .9” cried
O‘Grady to Scatterbraln. “He should have returned
long ago.” Oh! could he have only known at that

s moment, that his sweet son-in-law-elect was voting

against them, what would have been the consequence?
Another exhibition, insulting to O’Grady, now ~

peared in the crowd—a chimney-pot and wmthcrc

“tor the fashion of‘his mother‘s, was stuck on ll polo,

I

‘1. “hum;

 

 

No. 9.

Handy Andy.

 

and underneath was suspended an old coat, tumcd in  “You‘re stopping up the gate on purpose, and you ‘ swers to match them, for sure I thought it was man-v

ride out; this double indication of his change, so pecu-
liarly insulting, was elevated before the hustings, amidst.
the Jeers and laughter of the people. ()‘U rudy was
uearl y frantic—he rushed to the front of the platform,

he shook his fist at the mockery, poured every abusive ‘

i‘pithet on its perpetrators, and swore he would head
Inc police himself and clear the crowd. in reply, llll‘
crowd booted, the rap-trap and weathorcock were
danced together after the fashion. of i’unch and Jud ,
lo the music of the trumpet; and another pole ma 0
i s appearance, with a piece of bacon on it, and a
} lacurd hearin the inscription of “Treasury bacon "
:‘ll which Tomllmi'fy had run off to procure at it lint: -
:.' r‘s shop the moment he heard the waggish answer,
.Ihich he thus turned to account.

“The military must be called out!” said O’Grady;

   

I nd with these words he left the platform to seek the ‘

ilierill’.

Edward O’Connor, the moment helieard O’Grady’s
.hreat, quittcd the hustings also, in company with old
' lrowling. “ What, a savage and dangerous temper that

man has!” said Edward; “calling for the military when .

the people have committed no outrage to require such
interference." I

“ They have okcd up the bear With their )oles, sir,
and it is likely ie‘ll give them a liup,r before e’s done
with them,” answered the doctor.

“But what need of military ?” iinlignantly exclaimed
1Edward.
and disturbance common to any election, and the
chances are, that savage man may iniiuence the sherifl
to provoke the people, by the presence of soldiers, to
:ome act which would not have taken place but for
.iieir interference; and thus ihey themselves originate
.he offense which they are forearmed with power to
chastise. In England such extreme measures are never
resorted to until necessity compels them. How I have
envied Englishmen, when, on the occasion of assizes,
Pvcry soldier is marched from the town while the Jud e
i: sitting; in Ireland the place of trial bristles W1 h
Crayonotsl How much more must aIPeOple respect and
ave the laws, whose own Kurity an justice are their
lost safeguard—whom in erect majestyis Isut‘ficient
JOI‘ their own protection! The sword of justice should
sever need the assistance of the swords of dragoons;
rnd in the election of their representatives, as well as
itjudicial sittings, a people should be free from military
despotism." I II

“ But, as an historian, my dear young friend, said
the doctor, “Ineed not remind you, that dragoons
have been considered ‘good lookers-on' in Ireland
:‘ince the days of Strafiord." I I

“ Ayl" said Edward; “ and scandalous it is, that the
(buses of the seventeenth century should be Del etu-
ixted in the nineteenth! While those who govern s iow,
lty the means the adopt for squporting their author-
.‘xuy, that theirru 6 re uires un no force to uphold it,
may tacitly teach res stance to the people. and their
l ractices impl that. the resistance is righteous.”

“ My dear aster Ned,“ said the doctor, " you’re

patriot, and I’Ini sorry for you: you inherit the free
opinions of your namesake ‘ot the hill,’ of blessed
‘ ioinory; with such sentiments you may make a_ very
:ood Irish barrister, but you’ll never be an Irish Judge

-and as for a silk gown, faith you may leave the wear-
. 1g of that to your wife, for Stuff is all that Will ever
. -loi‘n your shoulders." _

I ‘Qlfgll, I wouclIdEEatheé‘ have stuff there than in my
he answers war .

“Very e i rammatic, indeed, Muster Ned,"said the
l octor. “Big us make a. distich of it," added he, with
. chuckle: “for, of a verity, some of the IK.0’s of our
times are but dances. Let‘s sec—how will it go?"

Edward dashed oil? this couplet in a moment:

"' Of modern king's counsel this truth may be said, I
“.‘liey have ail/c on their shoulders, and char in their
H

e .

“ Neat enough,” said the doctor; “but you might
contrive more sting in it—something to the tune of the
2-npossibility of making ‘ a silk purse qut at ii. sow’s
rar,‘ but. the facility of manufacturing Silk gowns out
of bores‘ heads.” I

“ That’s out of your bitter pill-box, doctor,” said

ti sm .

“ Put it into' your rhyme, Ned—~and set it to music—-
end dedicate it to the bar mess, and see how you’ll use
in your rofessionl Good-by—I will be back again to
use the un as soon as I can, but I must go now and
Visit an old woman who is in doubt whether she stands

1051; in need of me or the priest. It is wonderful how
uttle peo 1e think of the other world till they are going
:0 leave t 's: and then with all their praises of heaven,
now very anxious they are to stay out of it as long as

the can."

\\¥ith this bit of characteristic sarcasm, the doctor
and Edward se arated.

Edward had ardly left the hustings, when Murphy
hurried onthe platform and asked for him.

.“ He left a few minutes ago,” said Tom Durfy. II

“ Well, I dare so he is doing good, wherever he is,
mid Murtoug ; “ wantedto speak 0 lnm, but when
no comes back send him to me. n the meantime,
Com, run down and brin u abatch of voters-weIre
::etting a little ahead, I i; ii , with the bothering I m
:rlving them up there, and now I want to push them
with good strong tallies—run down to the yard like a
good fellow and march them up._" I

Off ted Tom Durfy on his 1111851013, and Murphy to
a to the court-house.

Tom,£08I Murphy’s house, goalnd fifigdgfig
00553 0 r y’s rty ' mun e p ,
mo of the fellows mag a car against the yard
.,'a,te which opened on the street, and was the outlet
for Egan’s VOtefs. By Way of excuse for this, the
car was piled with cabba as for sale, and a couple of
very unrul Sign were tet ered to the shafts, and the
:ztrapping e ow who owIned all kept guard over them,
t'om immediately told him he should leave that place,
.ind an altercation commenced; but even an election.
. ering dis ute could not but savor of fun and repartee
 m

‘ o o .

“Sure I can’t be 01! till the market's over,” was the
Walsh must take your car out 0’ this "

e on .

“ hide}; now, ou’ll let me stay, Mr. Durfy.”

“ Indeed I won t.”

“ Ari-obi what harm?”

* When Straiford’s infamous project of the wholesale
robbery of Conuaught was put in practice, not‘belng
quite contain of his juries, he writes that he‘ will sen

 

three hundred horse to, the province during the pro- ~

Jaodings, as “ good lockers-on."

. o

“ The people are only goingr on With the noise ’

w

must; go,‘
“ Hui-o your honor wouldn’t spilc my stand!"
l “Faith, I’ll spoil more than your stand, if you don‘t
leave that."

“ No tincr cabbage in the world."

“(lo out 0' that now, ‘ while your slices are good,‘ ”*
said Tom, seeing he had none; for in speaking of shoes
’l‘oin had no intention of alluding to the word chm/4r, ant
: thus making a French pun u n the cabba9e~for
Toni (lid not understand French, at rather despised it
as a ,iack-a-daudy iuzquircment.

“ Sure you wouldn‘t ruin my market,
Durt'y."

said Tom, whose tone indicated he ‘was new much
“teamed.

same

pigsa—l‘m expectin
them.‘

 

 

ncrs to cut out my bclmv‘ar on your patthern.“

“Take the oath, sir."

“VVliero am I to take it to, sir?" inquired the pro-
voking- blackgunrd.

The clerk was dcsired to “ swear him,” without furr
titer notice brim: taken ol’ his impcrliiient answer.

“i llupi‘ the oath is not twig/11y sir, for my con-
science is tindl'ier since the last alibi I swore."

The business of the interior was now suspended for
a time by the sounds of fierce tumult which arose from,
without. Some rushed from the court-house to the‘

Misthcr i platform outside, and behold the crowd in a state of

I l [:.'l'tllll.i‘XCIlA‘lllt‘llL, boating hack tliepolice. who had been
“ bone of your humbuggingwbut be oil at once,” I engaged in endeavoriiig iosoize the persons and things

“Not a nicer sli of a i" in the market than ihe‘ irovailcd on the s icrit‘l‘ to call out.
r. l l _

thirty shillin’s apiece for ‘ weak, irrosolute man, and was over— crsiiaded by such

[words as “mob” and “riot,” an

which liadoi’lcnded()‘Gmdy; and the olicc Iallin back
for support on a )arly of military w iicli O’Gra had
The slieriil’ was a

breaches of the

“ Faith, you'll get more than thirty shillings,“ cried ‘ 1)(‘tl.('t‘ lwim,r about lo be: committed, ii the rufflans were

Tom, “in less than thirty seconds, if you don’t lake‘ not (-luu,

your dirty cabbage and hlackgiutrd pigs out o‘ thatl"

oil beforehand. The wisdom of [n‘et'emwa
macs/om was prrachevl, and the rostof the hackneyed

 

"Dirty cabbagesl" cried the fellow, in atone of sur- g ilirnsos worn paraded, which brazen-faced and iron-

: rise.
? p The order to depart was renewed.

“ Blackguard pig‘s!" cried Paddy, in affected wonder.
j “ Ah, Masthcr'l‘om, one would think it was afther din-
! her you wor.”

“ Vliat do you mean, you rapi—do you intend to say
I in drunk?” I I

“ Oh, no, sirl But if it‘s not afther dinner wid you, I
think you wouldn't turn up your nose at bacon and

teens.”

“ Oh, with all your joking," said Tom, laughing, “you
won't find me a chic 'en to pluck for your bacon and
greens, my boy; so, start l-vanishl—dispersel—my
bacon-merchant. ’ ’

While this dialogue was going forward, several cars
were gathered round the place, with a seeming view to
hem in Egan‘s voters, and interrupt their progress to
the poll ; but the gate of the yard suddenly o ened, and
the fellows within soon upset the car w ic impeded
their egress, ave freedom to the pigs, who used their
liberty in eat ng the cabbages, while their owner was
making cause with his party of O’Gradyites against
the outbreak of Egan’s men. The alfair was not. one
of importance' the numbers were not sufficient to con-
stitute a. good row—it was but a hustlin affair after
all, and a slight scrimmage enabled Tom url'y to head
his men in a rush to the poll.

The polling was now prosecuted vi orously on both
sides, each party anxious to establis a majority on
the first day; and of course the usual practices for
facilitating their own, and retarding their opponents’
progress were resorted to.

Scatterbrain‘s party, to counteract the energetic
movement of the enemy’s voters and Murpli "s activ‘
ity, got up a mode of interruption seldom ma e use of.
but of which they availed themselves on the resent
occasion. It was determined to put the oath o allegi-
ance to all the Roman Catholics by which some loss of
time to the Eganlte party was edected.

This gave rise to odd scenes and answers. occasion-
ally :-—some of the fellows did not know what the oath
of allegiance meant; some did not know whether there
might not be a seruple of conscience against making it;
others, indi ant at what they f t to be an insulting
mode of ad , on the part of th person who said to
them, in a tone savori of supremacy—“ You’re a
Roman Catholic l"—-wou1 not answer immediately, and
gave dogged looks, and sometimes do ed answers;
and it required address on the art of an's agents
to make them overcome such eelings, and 8. edits
the work of voting. At last the same hercuiean ellow
who ave O‘Grady the fierce answer about the blunder-
buss nure he enjoyed, came up to vote, and fairly
bothered the queris with his ready re lies, which, pur-
posely, were never to the purpose. be examination
ran nearly thus:

“ You’re a Roman Catholic?"

“ Am I?" said the fellow. I

“Are you not?" demanded the agent.

“ You say I am,“ was the answer. I

“ Come, sir, answer—What’s your religion 9"

" The thrue reli 'ion.”

“ What religion is that?"

“My religion.” I I I,

“And what‘s your religion?

‘ “ My mother’s religion." I I ’

" And what was your mother 5 religion 7" a

“Site talc wide in her lay." I

“ Come, now, ll find you out, as cunning as you are,"
said the agent, piqued into an encounter of Wits With
this l’gllow, whose baffling of every question pleased the
crow .

“You bless ourseli, don't cut"

“ When I‘m {lone with, I tli nk I ought."

“ What place of worship do you go to?" -

“ The most. convayniept.” II

“But of what persuasion are you?

“ M persuasion is that you won t find it out. ’

“ V hat. is our belief?“ II

“My belie is that you’re Dunba-

:: Eotytgu conIerss?’

0 cu.
I “00111915120,” 1 have_ you. Who would you send for
if on were likely to die?”
‘ Doctor Growl ’." I

“ Not for the priest?" II

“ I must first get a. messpnger-

“ Comouna your quibbhngl—tell me, then, what your
opinions are- our conscientious opinions, I mean. ’r

“ They are the some as m diordls."

“ And what, are your land ord’s opinions l" I'

' “ Faix, his opinion is, that I won t pay him the-last
haIlff-year’s rint; and I‘m of
se ‘

A roar of ion liter followed this answer, and dumb
foundered the agent for a time; but an cred at the suc-
cessful quibbling of the sturdy and w yIfellow before
him, he at last declared, with which‘ severityof manner,
that he must have 'a direct rep .- w “moist, air, on your
news , at once, areyou a Catholic?" I I .

“Iam,y’saidthofellow.' ‘ - v I .,,

“And could‘notryou say sentence?! new,“ the

~ I " " ' ' I It I I

o I I _ . I , . . _
 “ :Saloul never fixed maximal-net! the other. -_

' ‘~“.[ did,” said the officer. ' I. » V ,.
, «qndeddIIym (m up. You said I was greab'many
mags, but; you neveraa'ed mo—syou wor ‘vin'=cracs
we and mked questions at me, and II gev you an-

oAsaying' among theflfish‘poasm‘ ‘ h swinging?
isdangerindslay. I   “u -' 

 

the same opinion my- .

'iandcd opprcssors are only too familiar with.

The people wore now roused, and thoroughly de-
l’oated thc police, who were forced to fly to the lines of
the military party (or protection; having effected t '
object, the crowd ri-taiucd their position, and did not
attempt to assault the soldiers, though a very firm and
lowering front. was presented to them, and shouts of de-
fiance against the “ Peelers “"‘ rose loud and long.

“ A round of ball cart ridge would cool their courage,"
said ()‘Urady. '

The English oliiccr in command of the party look-
ing with wonder and reproach upon him, asks if he
had the command of the party.

‘* No. sir; the shrrifl, of course; but if I were in hit
place, I’d soon disperse the rascals." -

“Did you ever witness the 41mg of a fusilade, sir?"
inquired the officer.

‘ No, sir," said ()‘Grady, gmfliy; “ but I suppose I
know pretty well what it is."

“ For the sake of humanity, sir I hope on do not.
or I am willing to behave you would not‘ so lightly
of it; but it is singular how much fonder civiliansane
of urging lllOaSllI‘eH that end in blood than those whose
profession is arms, and who know how disastrous is
their use." ‘ .

The police were ordered to advance again and seize
the “ riiigleaders;” they obeyed unwillingl ; but being
saluted with some stones, their individu
excited, and they advanced to chastise the mob, who
again drovc them back; and a nearer ap touch to the
soldiers was made by the crowd in the scu e which on-

sued.

“ New, will you fire?" said O’Grady to the sherlif.

The sheriff, who was a miserable coward, was filled
with dread at the ihrcateinng aspect of the mob, and
wished to have his precious person under shelter before
hostilities commenced: so, with pullid lips, and his
teeth chattering Wilil fear, lie excla med: ‘

“No! no! no! don’t tire—don’t fire—don’t be precipi-
tate: besides, I haven’t. read the Riot Act."

“ There’s no necessity for firing, I should say," said.
the ca min. I I

“I t ought not, captain—I hope not, captain," said
the sheriff, who now assumed a humane tone. “ Think
of the infusion of blood, my dear sir," said he to
O’Grady, who was grinnii like a. fiend all the time—
i‘the sacrifice of human h‘e—I couldn’t, sir—I can't,
sir—besides, the Riot Act—haven’t it about inc—must
be read, you know, Mister O‘Grady."

“ Not always,“ said U‘Gi‘ady, fiercely.

“But the inquiry is always very strict after, if itia
not, sir—I sliou d not like the eflusion of human bl
sir, unless the Riot Act was read, and the thing dons
regularly-don‘t think I care for the d—d rascals a
button, sir—only the legularity, you know; and the
eflusion of human blood is serious, and theln airy, .
too, without the Riot Act. Captain, would you guise
me to fall back a little closer round the courtrhouse,
and maintain the freedom of election! Besides, the
Riot Act is tip-stairs in my desk. The court-house

up-stairs tor the Rim. Act; I'll be down again in a mo-
ment. Captain, do oinge me—draw your men sheik

“ I'm in a better position here, sir,” said the 

“ I thought you were under my command. sir. Bold

" Under your command to fire, air, but the choice of
position rests with me; and we are stronger wh _ 1.3:

w \ ,
my men are under arms here, you ma relyon intro 5
crowd is completely in check without: ng a shot," 1.

“You‘re saving of your npowdor, I see. i" Bald ‘
O‘Grady to th ca min, wifiua su'donicgrln. ‘ ‘» .'

‘lo p humanity,
sir," returned the ca ‘ V
“ God forbid I shoall _
“ Or I of a single 0119,“. returned the captain, with'a
look of stern ccntomp ' ' ‘
words ml "llt. have] to had it not been in ted
the appeifrancc of the slim-it! at one of tumom 35
he called tz‘ ‘ ' ‘ 
‘“ Nowrl?v]e~rcadllt-flre away, boyhflreawayl” and
the t hisownmiserable carcass was safe from .
 he waved the Riot. Act from the window,
fro <lik . o‘oe permitted“ . , ,
' ‘FNOV: 21;,vyou‘i'evorderad to fire," said O‘Gradv 
manismof h s museswit'h fear, and I'll not obeysucly
II sofloimznommand‘from a madman.“ ' - "
thundered O’Grady. .  .. .

. h m ciblo for my act, sir," said the captains
vet] edufillseei’urther and fitter cause." taizx .‘

. . eoharifl'had‘ vanished*he was nowheredobssoon
owing u. call :3 ‘mn‘o‘f‘mm’ hm Iflifi‘wmm
‘ « B courageous man 6 ~ ..
mint“! music '

must be protected, you know, and I just want torun
closer around the cour muse.“
the sherlff. -
are; the court-house is completely covered. on
Off ran the sherin' to the court-house.
“ You seem be equally sparing of VON:
said OIIIIIadYI  of a  Tammie,”
There is no knuwiu twhat‘tliis‘hittei‘ bandyingof 
the coumhouse; there. With the IRIOW MI!!! his
all hjsoompunction about the emision of blood vanished
and vocifcratod. “ m away. boy!!!“ as loud-pa his
diam? that order sir," said the captain; “the r ‘
~ “Do you dare disobey the orders of the shrimping" \
ugemmiy responsible; but. I'will not slaughter mum
‘Lsand‘O’Giad '
in the chief, 'he'dete

I pm mm
zodianexuenntmhat he 8W3 be magician-us ‘
2;.4ne'nm given. tn‘tho 

 

force beingrfl'rst cats. . Sir bot-trod than
Film-Peel. Secretary for Irelandw' . .  , , i

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26

fense, to fire. With this object in view, he ordered a
fresh advance of the police 11 )Oil the people, and in this .
third aflair matters assumei a more serious as cut: ,
sticks and stones were used with more effect an the i
two parties being near to each other, the inissi s meant ‘
o for the olice overshot their mark and struck the ,
sol iers, who ore their painful situation with admirable
patience.

“ Now will you fire sir?” said O’Grad to the officer.

“If I flre now, s ‘, I, am as likely to ki the police as
the people; withd. [w your police first, sir, and then I
will fire."

This was but reasonable—so reasonable, that even
O’Grady, enraged almost to madness as he was, could
not gainsay it; and he went forward himself to with-i
draw the olice force. O’Grady’s presence increased‘
the r e o the mob, whose blood was now thoroughly
up, an as the police fell back they were pressed by the
infuriated peo ie, who now began almost to disregard
the presence 0 the military, and poured down in a re-
listless stream upon them.

O’Grady repeated his command to the captain, who,
finding matters thus driven to extremity, saw no longer
the possibility of avoiding bloodshed; and the first pre—
paratory word of the fatal order was given the second
on his hps, and the long file of bri rht mus ets flashed
in the sun ere they should quench is light forever to
some, and carry darkness to many a heart and hearth,
when a young and handsome man, mounted on a noble
horse, came lunging and plowing his way through ,
the crowd, an , rushing between the half-leveled mus— 1
kets and those who in another instant would have fallen 1
their victims, he shouted in a voice whose noble tone !
carried to its hearers involuntary obedience, “Stop !— l
for God’s sake, stop!“ Then wheeling his horse sud-
denly round, he charged along the advancing front of i‘
the )eople, plunging his horse fiercely upon them, and
wavmg them back with his hand, enforcing his com- !
mands with words as well as actions. The crowd fell ‘
back as he ressed upon them with fiery horsemanship j
unsu assa 1e b ' :in Arab; and as his dark clustering ‘
hair reamed a out his noble face, pale from excite- ,
ment, and With flashing eyes, he was a model worthy of ‘
the best da 5 of Grecian art—ay, and he had a soul
worthy of t 6 most rlorious times of Grecian liberty!

It was Edward ‘ onnor.

“Fire!” cried 0 Grady again. ,

The gallant soldier, touched by tho heroism of O’Con- 1
nor and roused by the brutality of O’Grady beyond his \,

at once in the excitement of the moment, was urged 3

a and the habitual parlance of a entlcman, and sword I
ve emently, “I’ll be damned if do! I wouldn’t run,
the risk of shooting that noble fellow for all the magis-
trates in your county."

O‘Connor had again turned round, and rode up to
the military party, having heard the word “tirel‘ re-

ted.
pegFor mercy’s sake sir, don't fire, and I pledge you
my soul the crowd will disperse.”

‘Ayi" cried O‘Grady, “ they won’t obey the laws nor
the magistrates; and they’ll listen fast enough to a
d—d rebel like you."

“ Liar and ruiiian!“ exclaimed Edward. “ I’m a bet-
ter and more loyal subject than you, who provoke re-
sistance to the laws you should make honored.”_

At the word “liar,” O‘Grady, now iiite frenZIed,_at-
tom ted to seize a musket from a so dier besule him;
and d he succeeded in obtaining possession of it, Ed-
ward O'Counor’s days had been numbered; but the
soldier would not give up his firelock, and O‘G-rady, in-
tent on immediate vengeance, then rushed upon Ed-
ward, and se' ’ him by the leg, attempted to unhorse
him; but Edwar was too firm in his seat for this, and
a struggle ensued.

The crowd, fearing Edward was about to fall a victim,

a. fierce shout, and were about to advance, when
the ca tain, with admirable presence of mind, seized
O’ rad , dragged him away from his hold, and gave
freedom to ward, who instantly used it again to
charge the advancing line of the mob, and drive them

 

  

 

back.

“Back, boys, back!" he cried, “ don’t give your ene-
mies a triumph by being disorderly. Disperse—retire
into houses, et nothing tempt you to riot—collect round
your tally-rooms and come up quietly to the polling—
and you will yet vs a peaceful triumph.”

The crowd, obeying, gave three cheers for “Ned-o'-
the-I-Iill," and the dense mass, which could not be awed,
and dreaded not the engines of war, melted away be-
fore the breath of peace.

As they retired on one side, the soldier s were ordered
to their quarters on the other, while their captain and
Edward O’Connor stood in the midst; but ere they
separated these two, With charity in their souls, waved
their hands toward each _other in token of amity, and
parted, verily, in tnendship.

CHAPTER XX.

man the incidents Just recorded of course great
confusion and excitement eXlS , during which
O‘Grady was forced back into the court-house in a
state borde on insanity. Iiiflamed as his furious

assions had een to the top of their bent and his
hirst of revenge still remaining uuslaked, foiled in all
his movements, and ihnip,r hackas it were into the
seething caldron of his own hellish temper, he was a,
pitiable sight, foaming at the mouth hke a wild alumni,
and uttering the most iiorrid nnprecations: 0n Ed-
ward O’Connor principally his curses fell, With denun-
ciations of immediate vengeance, and the punishment
of dismissal from the service was pro heSIed on oath
for the English captain. The terrors o _a courmnartial
learned fltfully through the frenZied mind of the ravmfi
uire for the soldier; and for O’Connor, instant dent

at his own hands was his momentary cry. “

“ Find the rascal for me," he exclaimed, that I may
call him out and shoot him like a do r—yeS. 111—. 8
do —a do ; I’m disgraced while he ves—I Wish the
vilfain ha three lives that I might take them all at
once—all—all!” and he stretched out his handsas he
s kc, and grasped at the air as if in ' nation he
cliftplhed the visionary lives his bloodthirsty Wishes con-
iure up.

Edward, as 500n_as he saw the crowd dispersed, re-
turned tothe hustmgs and sought Dick Dawson, that
he might be in readiness to undertake, on his art, the
arrangement of the bestile m eting, so which 6 knew
he should be immediately  ed. Lei; it be over, in
dear Dick, as soon as possible," said Edward; “its
not a case in which delay can be of any service; the m-
oult was mortal between us, and the sooner expiated
by a meeting the better." I

“Don’tbeso agitated. Ned." said Dick; ‘Lfair and

 

easy man—fair and easy—keep yourself cool.
“Dear Dick—I’ll be cool on the ground, but not till

~m. .. I r » -»-- '

 

then—I want the meeting over before my father hears
of the uarrel; I’m his only child, Dick, and you know
how he oves me!"

He wrung Dick's hand as he oke, and his eye glis-
tened with tenderness; hut wit the lightning quick-
ness of thought, all gentle feeling vanished as he saw
Scatterbrain struggling his way toward him, and read
in his eye the pu iort of his approach. He communi-
cated to Edward iis object in seeking him, and was at
once referred to Dawson who instantly retired with him
and arranged an imm ate met-tin . This was easily
done, as they had their pistols with t em since the duel
in the morning; and if there be those who think it a
little too much of a good thing to have two duels in one
day, pray let them remember it was; election time, and
even in sober England that period often gives riseto
personalities whic i call for the intervention of the code
of honor. Only in Ireland the thing is sooner over.
We seldom have three columns of a newspa er filled
with notes on the sub'ect, numbered from to 25!
Gentlemen don’t consi er whether it is too soon or too
late to fight or whethera gentleman is perfectly en-
titled to call him out or not. The title in Ireland
is generally considered sufficient in the will to do it, and
few there would wait for the poisinfg of ayery deli—
cately balanced scale of etiquette be ore piping to the .

round; they would be more likely to fig t rst, and
cave the world to argue about the niceties after.

In the present instance a duel was unavoidable, and 4
it was to be feared a mortal one, for deadly insult had 1
been given on both sides. .

The rumor of the hostile meeting flew hke' wildfire-
through the town, and when the arties met in a field
about a quarter of a mile beyond abridge, an anxious.
crowd was present. The police were obliged to be in
strong force on the ground to kee back the people,
who were not now, as an hour be ore, in the town, in.
nproarious noise and action but still as death; not a.
murmur was amon them; the excitement of love for
the noble young c ampion, whose life was in danger-
for his care of them held them spell-bound In a tran-
quility almost fearful. _ '

The aspect of the two principals was in singular con—
trast. On the one side a man burning for revenge,
who, to use a common but terrible lance, destred to
“ wash out the dishonor put upon him in blood." The-
other was there, regrettin that cause existed for the
awful arbitrement, and on y anxious to defend his own,
not take (mother’s life. To sensitive minds the reaction
is always painful of having insulted another, when the
excitement is over which rompted it. When the hot
blood which inflamed the rain run incooler currents,
the man of feeli always regrets, if he does not ‘
reproach himself With, having ur ed his fellow~nian to
break the commandments of he most High, and
deface, perhaps annihilate, the form that was molded
in His image. The words “liar and rufilan” haunted
Edward’s mind reproachfully; but then the provoca»
tion—“rebel!”-no gentleman could brook it. Be-
cause his commiseration for aerople had endeared
him to them, was he to be call “rebel”! Because at
the risk of his own life, he had preserved perhaps
scores and prevented an infraction o the law, was he to
be cal ed “rebel”! He stood ac uitted before his own
consciencez—after all, the mos terrible bar before
which he can be called in Mix world,

The men were placed upon their. ground, and the
word to fire given. O‘Grady, in his desire for ven-
geance, deliberately raised his (pistol With dead! aim,
and Edward was thus enable to fire first ye With
such cool recision, that his shot took effect as he
intended; ’Grady’s arm was tapped uplifsrom the wrist
to the elbow; but so determin was Will, and so ,
firm his aim that the wound, severe as it was, pro-
duced but a slight twitch in his hand, which threw it u
slightly, and saved Edward’s life, for the ball passeg
through his but just above his head. _

O’Gradly’s arm instantly after dropped to his aide,
the pisto fell from his hand, and he. staggered, for the
pain of the wound was extreme. His second ran to his
assistance. I

“ It is only in the am," said O’Grady. firmly, though
his voice was chan ed by the agony he suffered;
“ ‘ve me another pis 0!." _

%ick at the same moment was bemde Edward.

“ You’re not touched,” he said.

Edward coolly pointed to his hat.

“ Too much powder,“ said Dick; “I thought so when
his istois were loaded."

“ 0,“ said Edward, “it was my shot; I saw his hand
twitch." .

Scatterbrain demanded of Dick another shot on the
part of O’Grady.

“By all means," was the answer and he handeda
fresh pistol toEdward. “To give the devxl his due,”
said Dick, “he has reat pluck, for you hit him hard
see how ale be 100 s—I don’t think he can hurt ,you
much t s time—but watch him well, my dear N

The seconds withdrew; but with all QGradys des-
perate courage he could not. hft the pistol With his
right arm, whic , tho h hastily bound in a handker-
chief, was bleeding pro usely, and racked With torture.
On finding his right hand p0werles18, such was his
unflinching courage, that he took the pistol in his left;
this of course im aired his ower of gum, and his nerve
was so shattered his b _iiy suffering, that his mol
was discharged be ore coming to the level, and E ward
saw the sod torn up close beside his foot. He the of
course, fired in the air. O’Grady would have fallen ut
for the immediate assistance of his friends; he was led
from the round and placed macarl'gage, and it was
not until ward O'Connor mounde horse to ride
away, that the crowd manifested their feehngs. The?
three tremendous cheers arose; and the Shouts 01 their
m and trlum h reached the wounded man as he was

ven slowly mm the ground.

CHAPTER XXI. '

Tm: widow had 10 ago determined that
whenever the elec on should 6 place,, 8,119 Would
advantage of the great influx of Vimors that
event would produce, and give a grand PW- Her
reparations were all made to secure a good muster. of
er country friends, when once the day of nomination
was fixed; and after the election began She threw out
all her hooks and lines in every direction, to catch every
straggler worth havin whom the election brought into
the tow_n. It req ' some days to do this; and it was
not until the eve of the fifth that her house was turned
upside down and inside out for the reception of the

The ew‘, York Library.

 

numerous guests whose company she expected-

* Just such a. length correspondence had appeared
in the London 'ou when the first edition of this
book was published. '

VOL II

The toil of the day’s election was over: the gentle-
men had dined and refreshed themselves with creatum
comforts; the vicissitudes, and tricks, and chances of
the last twelve hours were canvassed—when the strik~
ing of many a clock, or the consultation of the pocket-
dial, warned those who were invited to Mrs. O Flana-

an’s part that it was time to wash off the dust of the

attic-fie] from their faces, and mount fresh linen and
cambric. Those who were leased to call themselves
“good fellows " declared or “another bottle ;"'the
faint-hearted swore that an autograph invitation from
Venus herself to the heathen Olym us, with nectar
and ambrosia for tea and bread-and- utter could not
tempt them from the Christian en 'oyment of a feather
bed after the fag of such a day; ut preua- chem/lem—
those who did deserve to Win a fair lady—shook off
sloth and their morning trowsers, and fairing to ti his
and actiyity, hurried to the part of the buxom Wi ow.

The Widow was in her glory; ospitable, she enjo ed
receiving her friends~mirthful, she looked forwar to
a long n ght of downright sport—coquettish, she would
have good opportunity of letting Tom Durf see how
attractive she was to the men —while from be women

 

 

, her love of gossip and scandal was there ever a lady in

her position without it?) would ave ample gratification
in the accumulated news of the county of twenty miles
round. She had but one lar e room at her command
and that was 'ven u to the ancing: and being cleared
of tables, ch rs, an carpet, could not be conmdered by
Mrs. Flanagan as a proper reception-room for her
guests, who were, therefore, received in a smaller apart<
merit, where tea and coffee, toast and muffins, ladies
and eutlemen, were all smokin -hot together, and the
can es on the mantel- iece tric ling down rlvulets of
fat in the most 3 m a hetic manner, under the influ-
ence of the gent e ghing of a broken pane of lass
which the head of an inquiring youth in the stree had
stove in, While flattening his nose against it in the
hope of getting a glimpse of the company through the
opening in the window-curtain.

At last, when the room could hold no more, the com-
pany were drafted of! to the dancing-room which had
only long deal forms placed inst he wall to rest the
weary a ter the exertions o the jig. The aforesaid
forms, b —the—by were borrowed from the chapel; the
old Wigs y Who ad the care of them for some time
doubted the propriety of the sacred property being
put to such a pro ane use, until the widow’s arguments
convinced him it was quite right, after she had ven
him a tenpenny-piece. As the dancing-room coul not
boast of a luster, the deficiency was supplied by tin
sconces hung ainst the wail- for ormu 9. branches
are not expects to be plent in the provinces. But
let the Widow be heard for erself as she hustled
through her guests and caught a critical glance at her
arrangements: “What’s that ou’re faulting nowr—is
it my deal seats without cush 0113? Ah! you’re a lazy
La j, Bob Larkm. Cock you up With a cushion in
deed! if you sit the less, you’ll dance the more. Ah,
Matty I see you‘re eying my tin sconces there; well,
sure they have them at the county ball, when candle-
sticks are scarce, and what would on expect grander
from a r lone woman? besides, we must have
plenty 0 lights or how could the beaux see the girls?
—tliough I see Harry Cassia , 1217 your sly look that
you think they ook aswell in he ar -—-ah! you died!"
and she slap ed his shoulderas she ran past. “Ah!
Mister Murp y, I‘m delighted to see on; What kept
you so late ?-the election to be sure. fiell, we‘re beat«
mg them, ain’t we? Ah! the old country forever. I
hope Edward O'Connor will be here. Come, begin the
dance; there‘s the piper and the fiddler in the corner as
idle as a mile-stone without a number. Tom Durfy
don’task me todance, for I’m engaged for the next
four sets."

“Oh! but the first to me,” said Tom.

“ Ah! is, Tom, I was; but then, you know, I couldn't
refuse t e stranger from Dublin, and the English cap-
tain that will be there by—and-by; he's a. nice man, too,
and, long life to him wouldn‘t fire on the people the
other day: I vow to the Vir , all the women in the
room ought to lose him when he comes in. Ah, doctor!
there you are; there’s Mrs. Gubbins in the corner d '
to have a chat With you; 0 over to her. Who‘s {11115
taming the piano there? h! James Redd , it’s you I
see. hope it's in tune; ’tis only four mont since 0
tuner was here. hope you‘ve a new song for us.
James. The tuner is so scarce, Mrs. Riley, in the coun-
try—not like Dublin; but we poor country peo 1e, you
know, must put 11 with what we can get; not ' a you

citizens, who has in of luxuries as easy as peas"
Then in a confldentialgfiiis , h ‘ “
daughter has per 8 6 said, I ho your

practiced the new iece well to a for
I couldn’t be lookinglafter her, youpknow, today, {hing
in such a bustle Wit my party; I was just like a dog in
a. fair, in and out eve here; but I she’s perfect in
the piece;” then, st more confident she added,
“far he‘s here—ah! I Wit it was, Mrs. iley;” then,
with a nod andawink ofl she rattled through the room
with a word for everybody.

The Mrs. Rile , to whom she was so confidential, was
a friend from ublin, an atrociously vulgar woman.
with a more vulgar daughter, who were on a visit with
Mrs. FlanAfian. The Widow and the mother tho ht
Murmugh urphy would be a good speculation for he
daughter to “ cock her on at ” (to use their 'own
phrase), and with this view e visit to the country was
proiected. But matters did not prosper; Murphy Was
not much of a marrying man; and if ever he might be
caught in the tods o. Hyman, some frank, joyous, un-
aflected. dashing girl would have been the on]

likely to serve a writ on the ’ovial attorney’s egg:
Now, Miss Riley was, to use MJurtough Mu hy's own

phrase, “ a batch of brass and a stack of ectation "
and the airs she attemupted to play on! on the country
folk (Murphy In partlc or) only made her an object for
his mischievous memment- as an example, we may as
well touch on one httle incident on peasant.

The widow had planned one day a walking party to a
picturesque ruin, not far from the town, and deter-
mined that Murphy should give his arm to Miss Riley;
for the party was arranged in couples, With a moat
deadly deSIgn on the liberty of the attorney. At the
a pointed hour all had arrived but Murphy' the widow
t ought It. aha py chance, so she hurried o the party,
leavmg Miss Ri ey to wait and follow under his escort.
In about a, quarter of an hour he came he met the
Widow in the street, who sent him back for Riley.
N_0w Murtough saw the trap which was intended for
him, and thought it fair to make what fun he could of
the affair, and being already sickened by various dis—

. gusting exhibitions of the damsel’s affectation, he had

{11%; {gig scruple of “ taking her down a peg," as he said
When' Murtoueh reached the house and asked for

1570.9.

Miss Riley, he was ushered into the little drawing—
room and there was that ve full-blown young lady,
on a 0 air before the fire, her eft foot resting on the
fender, her right crossed over it, and her body thrown
back in a reclining attitude, with a sentimental droop
of the head over a greasy novel: her figure was rather
developed by her osture, indeed more so than Miss
Riley uite intende , for her ankles were not iinexccp-
tionab e, and the position of her feet revealed rather
more.
and her shawl hung over the ban le of the tire-shove .
When Murphy entered, he was received With a faint
“dew (1‘ do?”

“Pretty well, I thank you—how are you?" said
Murphy, in his rollicking tone.

' “ 0h! Miste‘ Murphy, you are so odd.”

“ Odd, am I—how am odd 1‘"

“ Oh! so odd."

“Well, you’d better put on your bonnet and come
'walk, and we can talk of mfi‘oddity after.”

“ 0h, indeed, I caum’t wa ."

“ Can‘t walk!" exclaimed Murphy. “ Why can’t you
walk? I was sent for you.”

“ ’Deed I cawn‘t." ‘ _ _

“Ah, now!" said Murphy, vin hera httle tender
poke of his forefinger on the 0111‘ er

" Don't, Mister urphy, flint}; don‘t."

“ But why won’t you wa '3“,

“ I‘m too delicate."

Murph utteredave long “ Ohilili”

“ ‘De I am, Miste‘ urphy, though you may disbe-
lieve it."

“ Well—a nice walk is the best thing in the world for
the health. Come along!"

“Cawn‘t indeed; a gentle walk on a terrace, or a
shadowy avenue, is all very well—the Rotunda Gardens,
for instance."

“ Not forgetting the military bands that fplllaiy there,“
said Murphy, “together with the officers 0 the bar-
racks in Dublin, clinking their sabers at their heels
along the gravel walks, all for the small charge of a

ti nnfibit.”

iss ley gave a reproachful look and a shrug at the
vulgar mention of a “ fl’penny bit,” which Murp ypur-
pose said to shock her “ Brumma em entilit . ‘ _

“ ow can you be so odd, Miste' urp y?" s 6 said.
“ I'don’t joke, indeed; a gentle walk—I repeat it—is all
very well; but these horrid rough country walks—these
masculine walks, I may say—are not consistent with a
delicate frame like mine." _

“ A delicate frame!” said Murtough. “Faith, I’ll tell
you what it is, Miss Riley," aid he, standing bolt up
right before her, plunflng his hands into his pockets
and fixing his eyes on or feet, which still maintained
their original osition on the fender—“ I’ll tell you
what it is, Missgiiley, by the warms of my oath, if your
other leg is a match for the one I e, the dirt! a harm a
trot from this to Dublin would do on I"

Miss Riley gave a faint scream, and opped her legs
under her chair, while Murphy ran 0 in a shout of
laughter, and joined the party, to whom he made no
secret of his joke. .

But all this did not dam Miss Riley‘s ho es of
winning him. She change her lau; and see 3; he

W not bow to what she considere the supremacy of

her ve elegant manners, she set about fe ing at
once miration and dread of him. She wo d some-
times lift her eyes to Murtough with a la ex-

pressio and declare she never knew anyonehshe was
so afrai of ; but even this double attack on his vanity
could not turn Murphy‘s flank, and so a v laughable
flirtation went on between them, he letting er employ
all the enginery of her sex against him, with a mis—
chievous enjoyment in her blindness at not seeing she
was throwing away her powder and shot.

But to return to the Slutty; a ratt country dance
called out at once e energies o the piper. the
fiddler, and the ladies and gentlemen, and e t those
who had more activity in their heads than their
heels to sit on the forms in the background and exer-
cise their tongues in open scandal of their mutual
hiendsandacquaintances under cover of the music,
which revented the most vigorous talker from being
heard urther than his or her next-door neighbor. Dr.
Growling had one over to Mrs. Gubbins‘, as desired,
and was burl deep hi gossig

“What an extraordian air that was about Miss
O’Grady, doctor."

“Ve , ma'am."
“ In the man’s bed she was, I hear.“

“So the story in ' ."

“ And they tell me, doctor, that when her father, that
immaculate madman— keep us from harm !—said to

r Mrs. O’Grad , in a great rage, ‘Where have you

r0 htu our ughtersto o to ma‘ami’ said he‘
andughe, lpgor woman, said, 5To Ehurc my dear,’
thinking it was the different religion the can was

the ' so. she, ‘ Church indeed! there's the church
:ihe': 133's t3; ma’am,’ says be, turning down a quilted
counterpane. ’ y “

“Are you sure it was not Marseilles, ma am? said
the doctor. , '

" Well, whatever it was. ‘ Here's the church she s in.
says he, pulli her out of the bed.”

‘1 8n: 0: Ellie  ligpeated the doctor.

u o e r
“Then her church was in the diocese of Down,” said

thedoctor. , .
“That's docthor—indeed, that‘s good. She
was ca 11 in I- and ‘It’s the diocese of

9' 35 v
Dolom'lgys you ' faith, thgt‘s good. I wish the diocese
was our own; or you’re funny enough to be a bishop.
doc or, you lay howld of everyt . '
“ That’s a great qualification for a miter, ma‘am,”
“1d “‘3 319m“ that has h is t

“ An 6 r oung man t or no

ing, {been doctor." so

“ Then he must be the curate, ma'am; though I don‘t
think it’s a chapel of ease he's got into. '

“ Oh! what a tongue on have, docthor,” said she,
laughing; “faith, ou’ll me."

“ The ’s in pro ession, ma’am. I am a licentiate of
the Royal Go ego; but. unfortunately for me, my hu.
unity is an overmabtceih fail‘ ng  Ph‘i'enol -
Lolly- speaking In nevo en , an my 5-
structiveness a’nd équisitiveness small]:$18

“Ah, there on at on another tack: and who: a,
funny new t t is you talk of l—that free know.
ledge or crow knowledge, or whatever sort of knowledge
you call it. And 'there’s one thing I want to ask you
about—“thugs 3. pump the”ladies have. the gentlemen

we a remar .

“ ’sugery rude of them, ma’ain.” said the doctor,

3. “ Is it in the anterior region, or tho— ‘
. don't talk so queer."

A bonnet and green vail la on the hearth-rug, ,

' wilrcligered \Maid" $.33. her

 

Handy Andy.

“ I‘m only speaking scientifically, ma’am."

“ Well, I think your scientific discourse is only an ex-
cuse for saying impudent things; I mean the back of
their heads."

“ I thought so, ma‘um.”

“ They call it—dear me, I forget—something—motive
—motive—it‘s Latin—but I am no schalard, docthor."

“ That's manifest, ma’am."

“ But a lady is not bound to know Latin, docthor."

“Certain! not, ma’am—nor any other language ex-
cept that o the eyes.”

Now, this was a wicked hit of the doctor’s, for Mrs.
(lubhins squinted frightfully; but Mrs. Gubbins did not
knpw that, so she went on.

‘ The bump I mean, docthor, is motive something—
motive—motwa—I have it l—motive-mzss.“

“ Now, I know what you mean," said the doctor;
“ amativeness.”

“ That's it," said Mrs. Gubbins; “ they call it number
one, sometimes; I suppose amativeness is Latin for
number one. Now, what does that hum mean?"

“ Ah, madam," said the doctor, puzzle for a moment
to give an explanation; but in a few seconds he an-
swered, “ That s a beautiful provision of nature. That,
ma’am, is the organ which makes your sex take coni-
passion on ours.’ “ . I

“ Wonderful if' said Mrs, GubbinS' “but how ood
nature is in givmg us prowsion! and don’t think t ere
is a finer provision county in Ireland than this.”

“ Certainly not, nia’am," said the doctor; but the
moment Mrs. Gubbins began to speak of rovisions, he
was sure she would get into a. very so id discourse
about her own farms; so he left his seat beside her and
went over to Mrs. Riley, to see what fun could be had
in that uarter. I

Her gaughter was cutting all sorts of barefaced
capers about the room, “astonishing the natives,” as
she was pleased to say; and Growlin was looking on
in amused wonder at this specimen 0 vul ar eflrontery,
whom he had christened The Brazen ggage” the
first time he saw her.

“ You are looking at my daughter. sir,” said the de-
lighted mother.

“ Yes, ma’am,” said the doctor, profoundly.

“She’s very ou , sir."

“ She’ll men of t at, ma’am. We were young once
ourelves. "

This was not ve agreeable to the mother, who
dressed rather in afiivenile st lo.

“I mean, sir, that you mus excuse any little awk-
wardness about her—that all arises out of timidit —she
was lost with bashfulness till 'I roused her out of t—but
now I think she is beginning to have a little self-posses-
sion. ‘ .

The doctor was amused, and took a large pinch of
snuff ; he enjoyed the phrase “ beginning to ave a little
self-possession " being applied to the most brazen bag-
gage he ever saw.

‘ She’s very accomplished. sir,” continued the
mother. “ Mister J ew-val (Duval taitches her dancin’.
and Masha Dunn -ai (Mons. u Noyer 1' French.
Misther Low-jeer( ogier) hasn‘t the like 0 her in his
academy on the pianya: and as for the harp, you’d
think she wouldn‘t l’ave a sthring in it.” /

“She must be a. treasure to her teachers, ma’am,”
said the doctor.

“Faith, you may well say "treasure—it costs handfuls
0’ money; but sure, while there‘s room for improve-
ment. eve apartment must be attended to, and the
vooal apa ment is filled by Sir J aha—fifteen shillin's a
lesson no less."

“ What silvery tones she ought, to bring out, ma‘am,
at that rate l"

“Faith,you may say that, sir. It’s colni ,so it is,
with them tip-top men. and ruins one almost have a
daughter: every shake I get out of her is to the tune of
a ten-poun' note, at least. You shall hear her by-and-
bfi; the ininit the dancin‘ is over she shall sing on the
‘ ewildhered Maid.‘ Do you know the ‘Bew dhered
Maid,‘ sir?"

“I haven’t the honor of her acquaintance, ma‘am,"
said the doctor.

The dancing was soon over and the mother's threat
put into execution. Miss ey was led over to the
piano by the widow, with the usual protestations that
she was hoarse. It took some time to get the piano
ready, for an extensive clearance was to a made from
it of cu and saucers, and half-em ty glassen of nogus,
before t could be opened; then, ter various thrum-

and hummi and hawings, the “ Be-
ap ace in the
wildest possible manner, and e final shriek
was quite worthy of a maniac. Loud applause fol-
lowed, and the wriggling Miss Riley was led from the
iano b James Redd , who had stood at the back of
Eer on r, swaying bac ard and forward to the music
with a maudlin ex ression of sentiment on his face, an
a suppressed exc mation of “B-u-tifull" after every
extra shout from the young lady.

Growllng listened with an expression of as much dis.
satisfaction as if he had been drinkin weak punch.

“I see you don’t like that," said t e widow to him,
under her breath; "ah, you're 00?, hard. doctor—0011'
alder she sung out of good-nature.

" I don’t know if it was out of good-nature," said he:
“ but I‘m sure it was out of tune. ‘

James Roddy led back Miss Riley to her mamma,
who was much deli hted With the open manifestations
of the “ poet‘s" miration.

“ She ought to be proud, sir, of your notion, I'm
sure. A poet like you, sirl—wl‘ipt beau iful rhymes
them wor you did on the ’lection.

“A trifle, ma’am—a mere trifle—a little occasional

9

thin .'
“ 5h! but them two beautiful lines:

‘ We tread the land that bore
Our green flag iglitters fl’el‘ 

“ are 0 a uotat on, ma am,’ Reddy_

it Ch ,6 6,2,”; mtilm of true genius, sir, you try and
undervalue your own work. hu call them lines what
you like, to my taste they are the most beautiful lines
in the thidnfiyou done. .

Roddy not know what to answer, and 111’s can.
fusion was increased by catching old Growllngs e e,
ghlfflvsvgis chnlllgkflnnfi‘eylt the trial-apropos speech of e

o n . .

“ Don’tgyou sing yourself. 81”". said that .

“To be sure he does, cried the widow anagan;
“ and he must give us one of his own."

It This very in nious answer was really given by an
Irish rofessor an Over-inquisitive lady.

at? own worthy and excellent master, to whom 1-
gladly pay this tribute of kindly remembrance.

\

‘l  I“
2 No excuses; now, James 2"

Where's Duggan?” inquired the poetaster meet
edly; “ I told him to be here to accompan me."

‘ I attend your muse, sir,“ said a miseru le structur.
of 'skin and bone, advancing with a low bow and obso-

uioussmile: this was the poor music-master who set
1 eddy‘s rhymes to music as bad, and danced attend»
once on him everywhere.

The music-master fumbled over a hackneyed prelude
to show his command of the instrument.

Miss Riley whispered to her mamina that it was out
of one of her first books of lessons.

Mrs. Flanagan, witha seductive smirk, asked, “ “'ll! l
he, was oiiig to give them?" The diner replied “ alittic
thin 0 his own—‘ Rosalie, or, e Bro en ‘Heart ‘«
sent mental, but rather sad. '

‘ The musical skeleton rattled his bones alnst the

ivory in a very one, two, three, four s m iony; the

Egret ran his fingers through his hair, pu le up his col
, gave his head a jaunty nod, and commenced:

ROSALIE;
OR, THE BROKEN HEART.

Fare thee—fare thee well—alas!
Fare—farewell to thee!
0n pleasure‘s win, s, as dewdrops fade,
‘ Or honey stings he bee, '
Myjheart is as sad as a black stone
nder the blue sea.
0h, Rosalie! 0h, Rosaliel

As ruder rocks with envy glow,
Thy coral lips to see,
So the weepin waves more briny grow
With my sa tears for thee!
Mylheart is as sad as a black stone
nder the blue sea.
Oh, Rosalie! Oh, Rosalie!

' After this brilliant specimen of the mysterious! -sen-
timental and imaginative school was sufllcientyap-

lauded dancin was recommenced, and Roddy seated
filmself eside rs. Riieni's, the incense of whose praise
was sweet in his nost ' . “Oh, you have a soul for
poetry indeed, sir," said the lad . “I was bewildered
with all our beautiful ldays; t at ‘hone stings the
bee ' is a eautiful iday—so expressive of the pains and
pleasures of love. Ah! I was the most romantic crea-
ture myself once, Mr. Ready, though you wouldn't
think it now; but the cams of the world and a family
takes the shine out of us. I remember when the men
used to be making hats in my father’s establishment-—
for my father was the most extensive hatter in Dublin
—I don’t know'if you knew my father was ahatter'
but you know, sir, manufactures must be followed and:
that s no reason wh people shouldn't enjoy ‘thry
and refinement. WeK. was going to tell you ow ro‘
niantic I was, and when the men were making the hats
East—log t know whether you ever saw them making

Red declared he never did.

“ e , it’s like the witches round the iron t is
M It. ' did you ever see Kemble in MacbethPOOhl
he'd make your blood freeze, though the pit is so hot
ygu wouldn’t have a dhry rag on you. But to come tr

e hats. When they're making them, they ha‘vl
hardly any crown to 1: cm at all, and they are all with
great sprawling wide do. on them' well, the moment

clapt my eyes on one 0 them, I thou ht of a s -
ish nobleman directly, with his slouch hat and b
feathers like a hearse. Yes, I assure you, the broad
but always brou lit to my mind a Spanish noble or an
Italian noble (t iat would do as well, you know), or a
robber or a murderer, which is all the ame thing."

Roddy could not conceive a hat manufactoryas a ‘

favorable nursery for romance' but is the lad used
his son , he listened complacen’tly to her hattiigr
“ An that’s another beautiful iday, sir " continued
the lady “ where you make the rocks jealous of each
other—that’s so beautiful to bring in a b c of nature into
a metaph sic that way."
m;‘g§€upeal(ttefi- me, ma’aifié" msinglid isRoddy; “but if I
s o in own We —- t ‘ may
ever speak of his o’tvn work—“ ' if a man
“And why not sir?" asked Mrs. Rlle , with a busi-
nesslike air; “ who has so good a right of the
work as the man who done t, and knows w t’s in it!"
“That’s a very sensible remark of yours, ma’am an
I will therefore take leave to so. , that the idea l om
Watts :3,“ it}: :3“ “w” 8”“ $3°m”°“‘
a a
iqlggfild bypthe “a: s no, and its dcp
no or on, said Mrs. Rile '
—ah! that di ’1; esoape me; thaté'an
the black stone and the blue sea; and
suglli a beautiful (foggy-est 32:1 ted in that. m
o , sea (1 , attemp 9
 style 0 expression which Byron 11”
i e s a fine certainw but he s not moral,
fistfid 1“,m at to let my datighwr read such com-
es.

“ But he's grand," said Roddy; “for instance—
‘She walks in beauty like the night

How fine!”

thzfut flow wickedl: lsaidf Mrs.tRiley£ E‘I‘LI don't like
n ow s e o poo a so so no

more algout it; we talk of something else. Yong ad-
mire musio Pm me."

“new um..."  A

u e e ‘

“ Ohm’aml I could live'under a piano. " '

.“ M daughter, plays the piano beautiful."

it

“Oh but on heard her pla the harp, ou’d think
sh’e wo'uldn't live a sthring on i " (thislwas rs. Riley‘m
favorite bit of praise): ‘ and a beautiful harp it is, one
of Egan‘s doub e action, all over goold, and cost eighty
i  ? (geese charge it for her. ggdyouwlirpfiiw
ss ease e s as p ump as a. a
voice like a lark; she sings elegant dug); 1330.. over
si duets?" ,
:‘Afiti‘i’gmn'n Id h Poi n Vsi c
you can ear e or owling ug lists
with my daughter! he’d make the hair stand straight;

on your head With the deliglliit. Oh, he's apowe
i you never heerd the e; he runs up and down
as astualamp hter—and the beautiful t
gag; oh: Inever eGPlI any one ’9. second like

9
t

“ and the blue sea
el ant touch —
and blue,

3 r. Ideclarehe si aoaamd to t (1 es
Md think it was the rat, and neverata fingers 10%
e; and than oflhegoes in run that you'd think

 

a
duvercomoback: but he mixing ltbaok into our

number

l

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

. Id.- diarym A r .Y’..'t‘:';

-_$:‘

 

 

 

tune again with as note a fit as a Limerick glove. Oh!

.I never heard a singer like l’ether!"

There is no knowing how much more Mrs. Rileyl

would have said about “I’etlier,” if the end of the
,dance had not cut her eloquence short by )crinitting
the gran s of dancers, as they promenade , to throw
in their esulrory discourse right and left, and so break 3
u anything like a consecutive conversation. ,
ut let it nor be su )poscd that all Mrs. Flanagan’s
guests were of the Go bills and Riley stamp. There
were some of the better class of the country people
present; intelligence and courtesy in the one sex, and
'gentleness and natural "race in the other, making a
society not to be ridiculed, in thc Illdss,‘tllullgll individ-
ual instances of folly and ignorance and purse-proud
eflrontery were among it.

But to Growling every phase of society afiordcd grat-
ification; and while no one had a kcener relish for such
scenes as the one in which we have ’ust witnessed him
the learned and the courteous (:Olll( be met with equal
weapons by the doctor when he liked.

Quitting the dancing-room, he went into the lit-
tle drawmg-room, where a party of a very dif~
ferent stamp was engaged in conVersation. Edward
O‘Connor and the “dear English captain,” as Mrs.
Flanagan called him, were deep in an interesting dili-
cussion about the relative ractices in Ireland and Elig-
Iand on the occasions of e ections and trials, and most
other public events; and O’Connor and two or three lisI
tenors—among whom was a Mr. Monk, whose daugh-
ters remarkably nice girls, were of the party~were de-
ligh d with the feeling tone in which the Englishman
spoke of the poorer classes of Irish, and how often the
excesses into which they sometimes fell were viewed
through an exaggerated or distorted medium, and what
was frequently more exuberance of spirit pronounced
and mashed as riot.

“ never sawa people over whom those in author-
ity require :more good temper,” remarked the cap-

D. i
“Gentleness goes a long way with them,” said Ed-

w .
, “And violence never succeeds," added Mr. Monk.
“You are of opinion, then," said the soldier, “they
are not to be forced ‘1" .
“Except to do what they like," chimed in Growling.
“ That s a very Ilia}: sort of coercion,” said the cap-

- «‘mmu‘m._u V

 New York Library. “

l
feeling which love hadprompted to his muse rosefito his

l lips and he began to Sing.

All were silent for the poet singer was a. favorite,
and all knew.with what touching expression he ave
his compositions; but now the mellow tones 0 his
voice seemed to vibrate with a feelin in more than
common unison with the words, and h s dark earnest
elyes beamed with a devotion of which she who was
t e object might be proud.

A LEAF THAT REMINDS 0F THEE.

I.
How sweet is the hour we give,
When fancy may wander free
To the friends who in memory hvel—
For then I remember theel
Then wing’d, like the dove from the ark
My heart, o‘er a stormy sea,
Brin 5 back to my lonely bark
A eat that reminds o thee!

11'.

But still does the sky look dark,

The waters still deep and wide;
Ohl when may my lonely bark

In peace on the shore abide?
But through the future far,

Dark though in course may be,
Thou art my guii ing star!

My heart still turns to thee.

iii.

When I see th friends I smile,

I si h when hear thy name;
But t ey cannot tell the while

Whence the smile of the sadness came;
Vainly the world may deem

The cause of my sighs they know;
The breeze that stirs the stream

Knows not the depth below.

Before the first verse of the song was over, the en-
trance to the room was filled with eager listeners, and,
at its conclusion, a large proportion of the com any
from the dancing-room had crowded round the cor
attracted by the rich voice of the singer, and fascina
into silence by the charm of his song. Perhaps after
mental qualities“ the most valuable gift a. man can

 

tain, smiling.

“And therefore fit for Irishnien,” said Growling;
“and I never knew an intelligent Englishman yet, who ‘
came to Ireland, who did not find it out. Paddy has a ‘
touch of the p‘ in him—he won‘t be driven, out you l
may was: him a ong way; or if you appeal to his reason
—-for he hap ens to have such a thing about hllll-y0u
risu 6 him into what is right if you take the 
“B Jove," said the captain, “it is not easy to argue 1

with eddy; the rascals are so ready with quip, and l
equiv no, and queer answers, that they generally .
at the, est of it in talk, however fallocious may be ’
t eir argument, and when you think you have Pat in a
corner and escape is inevitable, he’s off Without your
knowing how he slipped through your fingers."

When the doctor joined the conversation. Edward, 1
knowing his powers, gave 11 the captain into his hands ‘

land sat down by the side 0 Miss Monk, who had just 3
entered from the dancing-room, and retired to a chau-
‘in the corner. ‘ _

She and Edward soon got engaged ma convelsatiou

rticular interesting to him. She spoke of having

telymet anny Dawson, and was praising her in such ‘
terms of affectionate admiration, that Edward hung.
upon every word with delight. I know not if Miss Monk
was aware of Edward’s devotion in that quarter before,
but she could not look u on the bland though some-
what and smile which are ed his expressive mouth, and l
the dilated eye which beamed as her )raises were ut- ,
tered, without being then conscious t t Fanny Daw-
son had made him captive.

She was leased, and continued the conversation
with that in erent leasure a woman has in touching a.
man’s heart, even t ough it be not on her own account;
and it was done with tact and delicacy which only
women possess, and which is so refined that the rough-
er nature of man is insensible of its drift audinfluencc.
and he is betrayed by a. net whose meshes are too fine
for his perception. Edward O’Connor never dreamt
that Miss Monk saw he was in love with the subject of
their discourse. While they were talking, the merry
hostess entered; and the last words the captain uttered A
fell upon her ear and then followed a reply from
Growling, saying that Irishman were as hard to catch
as quicksuver. ‘Ay, and as hard to keep as any other
silver," said the widow; “don’t believe what these wild !
Irish fellows tell you of themselves, the are all mad [
divils alike—you steady Englishmen are t ie safe men— l
and the girls know it. And truth, if you try them,“ ad- ‘
dedcshe, u hing “I don’t know any one more likely
whave lucE wi ll them than yourself; for, pm my

conscience captain, we all dote on you smce you would
not shoot the people the other day.” ‘ .

Thefie was a. utter among the girls at this open
avow .

“Ah why wouldn’t I say it?” exclaimed she, laugh-
A"1am not a. manly-mouthed miss; sure] ma

th; and I wouldn’t trust one 0’ ye,” she adder ,
with a. very significant nod of the head at the gentle-
men, “except the captain. Yes—I’d trust one more—
“! trust Mister O’Connor; I think he really could be
true to a woman.”

The words fell sweetly u n his ear; the expression
of trust in his faith at t t moment, even from the
la. widow, was pleasing; for his heart was full
of t e woman he adored, and it was only by long wait-
lnfiund untiring fidelity she could ever become his.

6 bowed couneously the compliment the
hostess paid him‘ and she. immediately taking ad-
van eof his acknowledgment said that after hav-
lng d him such a pretty com liment he couldn’t re-
fuse her to snag a song. Exdward never liked I to
flag in mixed companies, and was about making
some objection, when the widow interrupted him
with one of those Irish “Ah, now’s,” so hard to re-
sist. “ Besides, all the noisy pack are in the dancing-
room, or indeed I wouldn’t as}: you; and here
there a not one won’t be charmed with you. Ah,
look at Miss Monk, there—I know she’s dying to hear
an? and see all the ladies hanging on your lips abso-

tely. Can you refuse me after that, now?”

It was true thatin the small room where they sat
there were only those who were worthy of better
things than Edward would have ventured on to the
and filled with the tender and passionate senti-

QOnversaztion With Miss Monk had awakened,

melons of deep, and earnest, and poetic

 

 

 

have is a fine veice! it at once commands attention,
and may therefore be ranked in a man’s possession as
bi hly as beauty in a. woman's. I
n speaking thus of voice, I do not allude to the
ower of singing, but the mere physical uality of a
line voice, which in the bare _utterance of t le simplest
words is pleasing, but, becoming the medium for the in-
teichange of her thou hts, is irresistible. Super-
added to this gi t, which dward possessed, the song
he sungnlgad meaning in it which could reach the hearts
of all ' auditory, though its poetry might be ap-

: preciated by but. few; its imagery grew upon a. stem

whose root was in every bosom, and the song that
ossesses this uality, whatever may be its defects
ontains not on y the elements of fu ure fame, but of
immediate popularity. Startling was the contrast
between the silence the so had roduced and the
simultaneous claplplng of hall 5 .outSide the door when
it was over; not I. e poor plauth of a. fashionable as-
sembly, whose “ bravo” is an attenuated note of adniir -
tion, struggling into a. sickly existence and expiring in
a sigh—applause of so suspicmus a. character, that no
one seems desirous of owning it—_a. feeble for cry of
satisfaction which 60 1e think it disgracef to be
caught utterin . 'l.‘ e c appm was not the plaudits of
high-bred bans, whose soun _is hke the fluttering of
small wings, just enough to stir gossamer—but not the
heart. N 0; such was not the applause which followed
Edward's song; he had theoutburst of heart—warm and
unsophisticated satisfaction unfettered by chilling con-
vention. Most of his hearers did not know that it was
disgraceful to admit being too‘well pleased
poor innocents really opened their mouths and clapped
their hands. Oh, fle! tell it not in Grosvenor- uare.
And now James Roddy contriyed to be cake to sing;
the coxcomb not content With his luck in being
listened to before,dpanted for such another burst of ap-
plause as greete Edward,_ whose song he had no
notion was any better than his own; the %uppy fancied
his rubbish of the “ black stone under the Inc sea" ar-
took of agrander character of com osition, endt at
while Edward's “breeze” but “ stirreg the stream,” he
had fathomed the ocean. Buts “ hea blowand great
discouragement” was in store for Ester James, for
ashe commenced a love ditty which he called b the
fascinating title of “The Rose of Silence," and erlly
believed would have enra tured every woman in the
room, a powerful voice, ric flavpred with. the brogue,
shouted forth outside the door, Ma am 1/ you laze,
rapper's carom.” The eflect was magic ; a was
made to supper by the crowd in the doorway, and
every gentleman in the little drawing-room offered his
arm to a. lad , and led her ofl without the smallest re.

gard to Red y.’s sin .

h anything as he saw himself thus
unceremoniously deserted and Likely soon to be left in
sole possession of the room; the old doctor was en.
chanted with his vexation; and when James ceased to
sing, as the last couple were gouig the doctor inter-
posed his request that the son shopld be finished.

“ Don’t stop, my dear fe ow, said the. doctor;
"that’s the best son I have hesrd a long time,”and
you must indulge me y finishing it—that s a. gem.

“ Why, you see, doctor, they have all 39119, to yu per.”

“ Yes, and the devil choke them With it, said rowl-
ing, “ for their want of taste; but never mind that;
one judicious listener is worth acrowd of suchfifools,
you’ll admit; so sit down again and Sin for me.

The dector seated himself as he spo e, and there he
kept Reddy, who he knew was veg fond of a good sup-

9

His look was wo

Der. singin away for the bare , with 0n _0ne er-
son for an 'ence, and that one humbug%mg - he
scene was rich; the gravity with which he doctor car-

ried on the quiz was admirable, and the gullibilit of
the coxcomb who was held captive by his affecte 'ad—
unration exquisiwa absurd and ahnost past belief;
even Growl‘ himself was amazed, as he threwma.
rapturous “c ing ” or “brayissxmo,” at the egre-
gious £011 of his du , who still continued singing,
While the ufi‘lgler of t e supper-room and the anitlng
clatter of its 'ves and, forks were ' in his ear,
When Raddy concluded the doctor might be
venture to request the verse again;" “ for, ' con-
tinued 116. “there is a singular beaut of thought and
felicity of expression in its numbers, eaving the mind
unsatisfied With but one hearing; once more, if you
please.” '
44
v a

“A

l

and the ‘

 

 

'11 Murphy and Die in their 2

  

floor Reddy repeated the last verse.

“ Very charming, indeed!" said the doctor.

“ You reall like it 9” said Roddy.

_“Like?” said the doctor—“sir, like is a. faint expree
Sion of what I think of that song. Moore had better
look to his laurels, eirl”

“Oh, doctor!"

“ Ah, you know yourself," said Growling.

“ Then that last, doctor—l?” said Reddy, inquirineg.

“Is your most successful achievement, sir; there in
a. mysterious shadowmg forth of something in it whicl:
is very fine."

“ You like it better than the ‘ Black Stone’l’"

“Poohl sir; the ‘ Black Stone,‘ if I may be allowed
an ima e, is but ordinary paving, while t t ‘R/ose oi
Silence of yours might strew the path to Parnassus."

“And is it not strange, doctor,” said Reddy, in a re-
proachful tone, “that ilwm people should be lnsensibli-
t3; that song, and leave the room while I was sing‘ng
i ."

H
sion.

“ Besides, so rude!” said Reddy.

“Oh, my dear friend,“ said the doctor, “ when you
know more of the world, you’ll find out that an appeal
from the lower house to the upper," and he changed
his hand from the region of his waistcoat to his head
as he spoke, “is most influential."

“ True, doctor,“ said Reddy, with a smile; “and sup-
pose wr go to supper now."

“Wait a moment,” said Growling, holding his button.
“ Did you ever try your hand at an epic?”

‘ “ No, I can’t say that I did.”

“ I wish you would.” ‘

“You flatter me, doctor; but don‘t you think we
had better go to six per?”

“Hal” said the octor, “your own House of Com'
mons is sendin up an appeal—eh?"

“Decidedly, octor.”

“ Then you see, my dear friend; you can’t wonder at
those poor infen'or beings hurrying off to indulge their
gross appetites, when a man of genius like you .‘s not
insensible to the same cell. Never wonder ain at
peo 1e leaving your song for suppg Master ames,”
sai the doctor, restin his arm on ddy, _a.nd saunter-
ing from the room. ‘Never wonder again at the tri-
ungh of supper over song, for the Swan of Avon him.
se would have no chance against roast ducks."

Raddy smacked his lips at the word ducks, and the
savory odor of the supper-room which the approached
hightened his anticipation of an onslaug t on one of
the aforesaid tempting birds; but, ahl when he entered
the room, skeletons of ducks there were, but nothing
more- the work of demolition had been in able hands
And t e doctor‘s lach use exclamation of “ the dc '
a. duck!" found a ho ow echo under Reddy’s waist-
coat. Round the room that deluded mlnstrel went,
seeking what he mi ht devour, but his voyage of _dl5'
covery for an hot owl was profltless; and rowhng,
in silent delig t, witnessed his disappointment.

“ Come, sir,” said the doctor, “ there‘s plenty of unch
left, however: I’ll take a glass with you and drii suc-
cess to your next song, for the last is I could wish;"
and so, indeed it was, for it enabled him to laugh at
the oetaster, and cheat him out of his supper.

“ 0, ho!" said Murtough Mu by, who approached
the door; “you have found out t e punch is 00d, ehi
Faith itis that same, and I’ll take another g as of it
with you before I go, for the night is cold.”

“ Are you going so soon?" asked Growling, as he'
clinked his glass uifidnst the attorney's.

“Whishtl said urphy, “ n a word—I’m slipping
ewe after Dick the Devi : we - ve a. trifle of wor 'n
ban quite in his line, and it is time to set about it.
Geog-by, you‘ll hear more of it to-mon'ow—snug’s the
wor . .

Murphi stole away, for the open departure of so
men-ya. lade would not have been ermltted, and in
the hall he found Dick mounting a.

muflhng up. u
M“ Ggod people are scarce, you think, Dick, said

u .

“leYrecominend on to follow the example, for the
night is bitter cold, can tell you."

And as dark as a coal-hole," said Murphy, as he
opened the door and looked out.

“No matter, I have got a. dark lantern,” said Dick,
which we can use when required; make haste, the gifi
is round the corner, and the little black mare will to
us over in no time."

They left the house quietly, as he spoke, and started
on a. bit of mischief which demands a separate chapter.

CHAPTER XXII. _
. TEE night was pitch dark, and on rounding the ad-
Jacent corner no vehicle could be seen; but 8. ar
whistle from Dickwas answered by the soun 1! up.
proaching wheels and the rapid tootfulls of a. horse,
mingled with the ‘ ht rattle of a_smart gig. On the
vehicle coming up, ck took- his little mare, that was
blacker than the night, by the head, the apron of the
gig was thrown down, and out jumped a smart servant-

o .

‘YYou have the horse ready} too, Bllly?"

“ Yis, sir," said Bill , touc n his hat.

:2 glen follow, and eep up me, remember."

5, sn'.

“Come to her head, here,” and he patted the little
mare’s neck as he spoke with a. caressing _“ hoe,"
which was answered by a. low neigh of satisf tlon,
while the impatient pawing of her fore foot showed the
animal’s desire to start. “What an im atlent little
devil she is,” said Dick, as he mounted egi ; “I‘ll
get in first Murphy, as I’m goin to drive. ow u
with y0u—hook on the apron—t at's lip—are you
right?"

3‘0 good for them, sir—above their compreheu

top-coat and

te," said Murphy. .

“ en you be into 1your saddle and afterus, Billy," ,
said Dick; “and now at her go."

Billy gave the little black mare her head, and away
she went, at a, slap ing ace, the fire from the road
answeri the rapi stro 'es of her nimble feet. The
segfiiét t en pamounted glfaoirse whflilch gasigigi to a
ne oring 'sade an m op or i come
11 with his master, who was dri gmmth a mftness

ost fearful, considering the dar ass of the lit
and the narowness of the road he had to traverse, or
he was making the best of his course by cross-ms to
an adjacent roadside inn, where some non- dent
electors were expected to arrive that night by a coach
from Dublin; for the county town had every nook and
cranny occupied and this inn was the nearest point
where they 00 - get an accommodation.

Now don’t su e t t the were electors whom -
for their party van. '

ti

. «nowin

I'Lsmebegzar. - .

No-fg- . 

going over to greet with licurtv welcomes and bring up i

  
 

to the poll the next. day. l ' no means. They were
the friends of the oppos 1 .rty, and it was With the
design of retarding 1 Mr movements that this night‘s
excursion was undertaken. These electors were a batch
of plain citizens from Dublin, whom the Scatterbrain
interest had induced to leave the peace and quiet of the
city to tempt the wilds of thi- country at that; wildest of
tinies—durniga contested election; and a night coach
was freighlcd inside and out with tho worthy cits,
whose aggregate voices would be of immense import-
ance the next day- for the contest was close, the
county nearly iolleil out, and but two days more for
the struggle. ow to intercept. these plain unsuspect-
ing men was the obJect of Murphy, whose well-supplied
information had discovered to him this plan of the
enemy, which he set about counteriuining. As they
rattled over the rough byvroads many a laugh did the
merry attorney and the untan'iable Dick the Devil ex-
change, as the )rohable success of their scheme was
canvassed, and resh expedieiits chiscd to meet the
possible impediments wllich might interrupt them. As
they toppei aliill, Mu liy )oiiitcdout tohis companion
it movin v light in the din )cneath.

“ That s the coach, ick—tlierc arc the lamps, we’re
just in time—spin down the hill, my boy~let me get in
as they’re at sup er, and faith the ’1 want it, after
coming oil? a cone such a night. as t list, to say nothing
of some of them being .aldcrmen in expectancy per-
haps, and of course obliged to play trencher-nien as
often as they can, as a requisite rehearsal for the
parts they must hereafter fill."

In fifteen minutes more Dick pulled 11 before a small
cabin within a quarter of a mile of tie inn, and the
mounted servant tapped at the door, which was imme-
diately opened and a peasant, advancing to the gig, re-
turned the eiVil salutatiou with which Dick greeted his
approach.

“I wanted to be sure on were ready, Barn ."

“on, do you think I d fail you, Misthcr tick, your
honor?”

“I thought you might be asleep, Barny.”

“Not when you bid inc wake, sir; and there’s a nice
fire ready for you, and as fuic a dhrop o’ potlec/i as ever
tickled your ton rue, sir. "

“You’re the ad, Barn 'l—good fellow—I‘ll be back
with you by-and»by;” an off whipde Dick again.

After going about a uarter of a mile further he
pulled up, alighted with unrph ' from the gig, unhar-
nessed the little black mare, am then overturned the
gig into a ditch. ‘

“ That’s as natural as life," said Dick. .

“What an escape of my neck I've had!” said Mur-

h .
p ‘yAre you much hurt P" said Dick. '

“A trifle lame only,” said Murphy, laughing and
limping. .

“There was a great baccagh” lost in you, Murphy.
Wait; let me rub a handful oi mud on your face—t use
——you have a very u set lookaon my soul,” said Dick,
as he flashed the lig t 0t 1115 lantern on him for a mo-
ment, and laughed at Murphy scooping the mud out. of
his; eye, where Dick had purposely planted it.

"Devil take you,” said Mai-tough; “that’s too natu-

  

.1

. 1.

"There’s nothing like looking your part,” said Dick.

“Well, I may as well complete my attire," said Mur-
tOi h, so he lay down in the road and took a roll in the
nu : “that Will do," said he, “and now, Dick, go back
:0 Barny and the mountain dew, while I storm 'the
ramp of the Philistines. I think in a couple of hours
you may be on the look-out for me; I'll signal you from
the window, so now good-by;” and Murphy, leading the
mare, proceeded to the inn, while Dick, with a partin
" Luck to you, my boy," turned back to the cottage 0
Barn .

The); coach had set down six inside and ten out pas-
sengers (all voters) about ten minutes before Murphy
marched up to the inn door, leadiii the black‘ mare,
and calling “ cstler ” most lustily. is call being an-
swered for “the beast " “the man ” next demanded at-
tention; and the landlord wondered all the wonders he
could cram into a short speech, at seeing Misther Mur—
phy, sure, at such a time- and the sonsy landlady, too,
was all lamentations for is illigant coat and his poor
0 e, sure, all ruined with the mudz—and what was it at
i. I? an upset, was it? oh, wiri-al and wasn’t it lucky he
wasn’t killed, and they without a spare bed to lay him
out dacent if he was—sure, wouldn't it be horrid for
his body to be only on sthraw m the barn, instead of
the best feather bed in the hctuse; and, indeed, he'd be
welcome to it, only the gintlemen from town had them

all an a cd.

“ Wgelf dead or alive, I must stay here to-night, Mm.
Kelly, at all events.”

‘ And what will you do for a bed?"

“A shake-down in the parlor or a stretch on a sofa
will do; my gig is stuck fast in_ a ditch—my mare tired
~ten milles frOén 11(l)nle--(,iold night, and my knee hm ."
Mu h im e as iesmce.

“18 3llyouli3 poor knde," said Mrs. Kelly; “I’ll put a,
dhrop o‘ whisky and brown paper on it sure—”

“ And what gentlemen are these, lilrs. Kelly, who
have so filled your house?" . I

“Glntlcmen that came by the coach a while agone,
«ind supping in the parlor now, sure."

“ Won (1 you give my compliments, and. ask 'would
(hey allow me, under the present peculiar circum-
stances, to join them? and in the meantime send some-
bod down the road to take the cushions out of my gi '
for here is no use in attempting to get the gig out t
morning.”

“Sartinly, Misther Murphy, we’ll send for the cush-
logs;"but as for the gentlemen, they are all on the other
Bl e.

“ What other side ‘2”

“ The Honorable’s voters, sure. ’.’

“Pooh! is that all?" said Murphy—“ I don’t mind
that, I’ve no objection on that account; besides, they
need not knpw who I am." and he ave the landlord a
wmk, to which the land 0rd as knowingly
mturne another.

The message to the gentlemen was delivered, and
Murphy was immediately requested to join their party-
this was all he wanted, and he played on? his owers of
diversion on the innocent citizens so success ully, that
oefore supper was half over they thought themselves
:1 luck to have fallen in with such a chance acquaint-
ance. Murphy fired away Jokes. repartees anecdotes,
and country gossip to their delight; and when the eat-
nbles were dispo of, he started them on the punch-
drinking tack afterward so cieverltfiethat he hoped to
see three parts of them tipsy before y retired to rest.

\

- Handy, Andy.

 

“ Do you ft‘t'i vein- Luce better now, sir?" asked one
of the. party, of Murphy.

“Considerahly, thank Iyou; whisky punch, sir, is
about the best cure for raises or dislocations aman
can take."

“I doubt that, sir," said a little matter-of—fact man,
who had now interposed his reasonable. doubts for the
twentieth time during Murphy‘s various extravagant
declarations, and the interruption only made Murphy
romance the more.

“ You 5 walk or your flery Dublin stuff, sir; but our
country w isky is as mild as milk, and far more whole-
some' then, sir, our fine air alone would curo half the
com iaints without a grain of ihysic."

“ doubt that, sir!” said thellittle man.

“I assure you, sir, a friend of my own from town
came down low last spring on crutches, and from
Inerer following n light Whisky diet and sleeping with
his window open, he was able to dance at the race ball
in a fortnight; as for this knee of mine, it‘s a trifle,
thou h it was a bad upset too.” 1

“ ow did it happen, sir? Was it your horse—or your
harness—or our gig—or—"

“ None 0‘ 1; 16m, sir; it was a Bum-hen."

“ A Bansheel” said the little man: " what’s that?"

“A peculiar sort of supernatural creature that is
common here, su‘.
of the road, and my mare shied at. her, and being a
spirited little thing, she attempted to jump the ditch
and missed it in the dark."

“Jump a ditch, with a gig after her, sir?" said the
little man. .

“Oh; common enough to do that here, sir; she'd
have done it. easy in the daylight, but,she could not

measure her distance in the dark, and bang she went .

int'o the ditch; but it‘s a trifle, after all. I am generally
.vun over four or five times a ear." '

“ And you alive to tell it!" said the little man, incred-
ulously.

“It’s hard to kill us here, sir; we are used to acci-
dents.”

“‘Well, the worst accident I ever heard of," said one
of the citizens, “happened to a friend of mine, who
went to visit a frien of his on a Sunday, and all the
family lisp )ened to be at church' so on driving into
the yard t ere was no one to take his horse, therefore
he undertook the office of ostlcr himself; but bei un-
used to the duty, he most incautionsly took 0 the
horse’s bridle befpre uiiyoking him from his gi ', and
the animal, makin a urious plunge forwar —-my
friend being before im at the time—the shaft of the
gig was driven. through his body, and into the coach-
house gate behind him, and stuck so fast that the horse
could not drag it‘out after; and in this dreadful situa-
tion they remained until the family returned from
church and saw the awful occurrence. A servant was
dispatched for a doctor, and the shaft was disengaged,
and drawn out of the man's hody—‘ust at the pit of the
stomach; he was laid on a bed, an every one thought
of course he must die at once, but he (hdn’t; and the
doctor came next day, and he wasn’t (lead—did what
he could for him—and, to make a long story short, sir,
the man recovered."

“ Pooh! pooh!” said the diminutive doubter.

“ It‘s true,” said the narrator.

“ I make no doubt of it, sir,“ said Murphy; I know a
more extraordinar case of recovery m self.”

“I beg your par on, sir,” said the cit; “I have not fin-
ished my storyyet, for the mostextraordinary part of
the story remains to be told; in friend, sir, was a very
sickly man before the accident appened—a rep sickly
man, and after that accident he became a hole, ealthy
man. What do you think of that, sir?"

“ It does not surprise me in the least, sir," said Mur-
phv; “ I can account for it readily.”

“Well, sir, I never heard it accounted for, though I
know it to be true; I should like to hear how you ac-
coui‘ilt for it?" 1 " d M h ‘

“ ery simp y, sir, sai ur '; ‘ don‘t on r-
ceive tho‘man discovered aminepoi’ health by? a 851,211
being sunk in the pit of his stomach i"

Mufiphy’s panning solution ot‘ the cause of cure was

merr y received by the company, whose critical taste
was not of that affected nature which des lees jw de
finals, and will not be satisfied under a jeu exprit; the
httlc doubting man alone refused to be pleased.

“I doubt the value of a pun always, sir. Dr. John-
.‘son said, sir—"

“ I know,“ said Murphy; “that the man who would
make a pun would lck a pocket; that’s old, sir~but is
dearly remember by all those who cannot make puns
themselves.”

“Exactly,” said one of the party they called Wig-
us. “It is the old sic of t efox and the grapes.

id you ever hear, sir, t 6 story of the fox and the
grapps? The fox one day was-’ .

“ es, yes " said Murphy, who, fond of absurdity“
he was, con d not stand the fox and the grapes by
we. of something new.

‘ They’re sour, said the fox."

“Yes,” said Murphy, “a capital sto$."

“ 0h, them fables is so good!" said iggins.

“ All nonsense i" said the diminutive contradictor.

“ Nonsense, nothing but nonsense; the ridiculous
stat! of birds and beasts speaking! As if any one could
believe such stuff." -

“ I (lo—tirinly—for one," said Murphy.

“You do?" said the little man.

“ I do—and do you know why?

“ I cannot indeed conceive,” said- the little man, with
a bitter grin.

“ It is, sir, because I myself; know a ens? that occurred
in this very country of a similar nature.’

“ Do you want to make me believe you knew a fox
that spoke, sir?" said the manmkm, almost Pisng into
anger.

‘ Man sir” said Mu h . “manl’-"

“Welfi’aftér that l" 5331 be little man,

“ But the case I immediately allude to is not of a fox,
but a cat," said Murphy - ‘

$- A can: on, yes—t0 be sure—a cat speak indeed!”
said the little gentleman. “

by; and if the company

“ltisafact, sir," saidM ,
wou1d not bjegt to my relat the story, I Will state

thepartic ‘ .

9:

Th prp‘posal was received with acclamation; and h rdroad
n

9
Mn h t enjoyment of the little man’s anno -
we? c éare his throat, and made all the preparatoryy
demonstrations of are lar 711601119117; but, before he
began, he recommend the gentlemen to mix fresh

tumblers all round that they mi ht have nothing to do '

but listen‘and drink silently. “ or of all things in the
worl ” said Murmugh “I ate asong or a story to be
interrupted b the rattle of spoons."

 

Theyobey undwhne theymmtxlngtheirpumh.

4, ' . .

She was squatted down on one side ,

 

 

i

i

‘ a gratitude beyond lan tinge.

’ 29

we will just turn over a fresh page, and devote a new
chapter to the following
MAavsLous LEGEND.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
MURTOUGH MURPIIY‘S STORY:
' BEING

Yr: MARVELOUB annuo or Tom (toNNon‘s CAT.

“THERE was a man in these parts, sir, you must
know, called Tom Connor, and he had a cat that was
equal to any dozen of rat-traps, and he was proud if
the haste, and with rayson; for she was worth her
wei ht in goold to him in saving his sacks of meal from
the hievery of the rats and mice; for Tom was an ex-
tensive dealer in corn, and influenced the rim and fail
of that; article in the market, to the extent; of a full
dozen of sacks at a time, which be either kept or sold,
as the spirit of free trade or monopon came over him.
Indeed, at one time Tom had serioust (nights of apply-
ing to the government. for a military force to protect.
his granary when there was a threatened famine in the
country."

“ Pooh! poohi sir," said the matter-of-fact little man:
“ as if a dozen of sacks could be of the smallest con-
sei ucnce in a whole county—pooh! pooh!"

‘ Well, sir, said Murphy, “ i can‘t help if you don‘t
believe; but it‘s truth what‘ I am telling you, and pray
don‘t interrupt me, though you may not. believe; by tho

‘ time the story‘s done you’ll have heard mmowondcrful
things than than—and besides, remember you're a
stranger in these parts, and have no notion of the ex-
traor inary things, physical, metaphysical, and magi.
cal which constitute the idiosyncrasy of rural destiny.“
he little man did not know the meaning of Murphy’s
last sentence—nor Murphy either; but, having stop ed
the little man's throat. with big words, he proceede :—
“This cat, sir, you must know, was a great pot, and
was so up to everything, that Tom swore she was a’most
like a Christian, only she couldn’t speak, and had so
sensible a look in her 6 es, that he was sartin sure the
cat knew eve word t at was said to her. Well, she
usgd to sit by im at breakfast every morning, and the
eloquent cock of her tail, as she used to rub against his
19 , said, ‘ Give me some milk, Tom Connor,‘ as plain as
print, and the plentitude of hequl‘l' afterwards spoke
ell, one morning, [out

was going to t m neigh 'Ol‘lIl town to market, and he
had promised the wife to ring home shoes to tho
childre‘ out o’ the price of the corn; and sure enough,
before he sat down to breakfast, there was Tom taking
the measure of the children’s feet, by cutting notches
on a bit of stick; and the wife gave im so many can-
tions about getting a. ‘ nate ilt‘ for ‘Billy‘s party feet,‘
tliatVTom, in his anxiety to nick the closest ossrble
measure, wt off the child’s toe. That distnr d the
harmony of the party, and Tom was obliged to break—
fast alone while the mother was endeavoring to "In"
Billy- in s ort trying to make akaal of his m. M ell,
sir, all the time Tom was takin measure for the slices,
the cat was observin him wi that luminous peculi-
arity of eye for which her tribe is remarkable; and

against him more vigorously than usual; but Toni,
being bewidered between his expected gain in com and
the positive loss of )xis child’s toe kept never llllnllllli;

‘ her, until the cat, with a sort of caieiwauling grow,

ve Tom a dab of her claws, that went clean through
is leathers, and a little further. ‘Wowl’ says Tom,
with a jump, clappin his hand on the part, and rub
bing it, ‘b% this an that, you drew the blood out 0'
me, says om; ‘you Wicked divil—tishl—go along !'
says he, making a kick at her. With that the cat gave
a reproachful look at him, and her eyes lared just like
a pair of mail-coach lamps in a fog. Wi ii that, sir, the
cat, with a mysterious ‘ ml-ow,’ fixed a most penetrat-
ing lance on Tom, and distinctly uttered his name.
“ om felt every hair on his head as stiff as a pump-
handle: and scarce] crediti his ears, he returned a

in a. sort of nasal twang—-

“ ‘Tom Connor,’ says she.

“‘The Lord be good to mel' says Tom, ‘ii’ it isn‘t
sp’akin‘ she ist‘ , .

“ ‘Tom Connor,‘ says she again.

“ ‘ Yes ma’am,‘ says Tom.

“ ‘Come here,‘ says she; ‘ whisper—I want to talk to
you, Tom,’ 39. 9 she, ‘tlie laste taste in rivate,‘ says
5119— on er barns, and beckoning
paw out o the door, with a wink and a toss o‘ the head
at ual to a. mllllner.

‘ Well, as you ma sup use, Tom didn’t know whether
he was on his h or is heels, but he followed the
cat, and off she went and waned herself under the
edge of a little paddock at i e back of Tom’s house;
and as he came round the corner, she held up her paw
again, and laid it on her mouth. as much as to say, ' De
cautiQuS. Tom.’ Well, divil a word Tom couliteay at
21111, With the fright, so up he goes to the cat, and says

9_ .

“‘Tom,’ 88. '3 she ‘I have a great T039055 101' you.
and there‘s sgmethi'ng I must tell you, becu‘se yuu‘io
1081113 character with your neighbors,’ says she, ‘hy

our goin’s on,’ says she,‘ and it 9 out 0
have for you, that I must tell on,‘ says she.

“ ‘ Thank you, ma’m.’ says ' 0111;

“‘You’re goln' off to the town, says.she, Ito bu}
shoes for the ch11 ',’ says she, ‘and never thought 0
gettin me a pair.’ . ' i

“‘ out‘ says Tom.

“‘Yig, me, Tom Connor,’ 55
born wondhers that a respectab 6 man like you allow
ygur can to go about the counthry barefutted,‘ sayii
s e. .

i. ‘15 it a, cat to ware shoes?‘ says Tom.

.. .Why not?’ says she; ‘ doesn’t horses ware shoes!—
and 1 have a prettier foot than a horse, I hope,‘ says
she, with a toes of her head.

“6F she spakps like a woman: soproud of hex
feet,’ says Tom to himself, astonished, as you may sup

so, but retending never to think it remarkable all the

ime; an so he went on discoursin‘; and says he. ‘ 1th
thrue for you, ma‘am,’ says he, ‘that horses wares
shoes—but that stands to region, ma‘am, you soo—
seeing the hardship their feet s to go through on the

a s. .
“ ‘And how do you know what hardghlp my feel; has
to go throughl- says the cat, ’
21133;)“: b
co Menus oeon 011' she:
“ ' Leave that to me,’ysay’s still; eat. »
7 “‘Did buy one ever stick walnut shells on yen,

 

with a frown.

when Tom sat down to breakfast, the cat rubbed up'

im with lior \

the inspect. that:

she; ‘and the neigh-l

mi 11 sh .
mfi’fim.’ says Tom, ‘ 1 goat}; wgl'lp'see how your

u 1' says Tom, with a ii. i
P “ ‘ 011': be disrespec‘filifl Tom Comer; says the ca; 

 

searching look at t 6 cat, w 0 very quietly proceeded ,

i

. t

l

 

 

 

 

 

3O

“ ‘ 1 ax your pard'n, ma’avn,’ says he, “ but as for the
horses on wor sp‘akin‘ about wearin’ shoes you know
their s oes is fastened on with nails, and how would
your shoes be fastened on?“

‘f ‘Ah, you stupid thief l’ says she, ‘ haven’t I illigant
nails 0’ my own? and with that she gave him a dab of
her claw that made him roar.

“ ‘ Owl murdher!’ says he.

“ ‘Now, no more of your palaver, Misther Connor,’
says the cat; ‘just be 0 and get me the shoes.’

‘ ‘ Tare un' ounsi’ says Tom, ‘ what’ll become 0’ me
if I‘m to get shoes for my cats?‘ says he, ‘for you in-
crease your family four times a year, and you have six
or seven every time,’ says he; ‘ and then on must all
have two pair apiece—wirral wirral—I’ll e ruined in
slioc-leather,’ says Tom.

" ‘ N o more 0‘ our stufl,’ says the cat; ‘ don’t be
standin' here und er the hedge talkin', or we‘ll lose
(our karacthers—for I’ve remarked your wife is jealous,

om.’

“ ‘ Pon my sowl, that‘s thrue,’ says Tom, with a
smirk.

mMore fool she,’ says the cat, ‘for, ’pon in con-
science, Tom you’re as ugl ' as if you wor bespo e.’

“0 the cat with 1. ese words, leaving Tom in

amazement. He said nothing to the family, for fear of
fright’ning them, and oi! he went to the wwn, as he
pretended—for he saw the cat watching him through a
1019 in the hedge; but when he came to a turn at the
end of the road, the dickings a mind he minded the
market, good or bad, but went off to Squire Bother-
um’s, the magisthrit, to sware examinations agen the
cat.

“Poohl poohl—nonsensell” broke in the little man,
who had listened thus far to Murtough with an expres-
sion of mingled wonder and contempt, while the rest of
the party Willineg gave up the reins to nonsense, and
enjoyed Murtough s Legend and their companion’s
more absurd common sense.

“ Don‘t interrupt him, Gogglns,” said Mister Wiggins.

“ How can you listen to such nonsense?” returned
Goggins. “ Swear examinations against a cat, indeed!
pooh! pooh!”

“ My dear sir,” said Murtough, remember this is a fair
story, and that the country all around here is full of
onehantment. As I was telling you, Tom went off to
swear examinations. ”

“Ay, ay!” shouted all but Goggins; “ go on with the

“ And when Tom was asked to relate the events of the
mornin , which brought him before Squire Botherum,
his br n was so bewildered between his corn, and his
cat, and his child’s toe, that he made a very confused
account of it.

“ ‘ Begin your story from the beginning,’ said the
magistrate to Tom.

’ “ Vell, your honor,’ says Tom, ‘ I was goin’ to mar-
ket this mornln’. to sell the child’s com—I beg your
d‘n—my own toes, I mane, sir.’

“ ‘ Sell your toesl’ said the squire.

“ ‘ No sir, takin’ the cat to market, I mane—J

“ ‘Ta e a’cat to marketl’ said the squire. ‘You’re

drunk, man. _
“'No, your honor, only confused a httle; for when

the toes an to speak to me—the cat, I mane—I was
botheredc ne-’ _
I “‘The cat speak to you!’ said the squire. ‘Phewl
worse than before—you re drunk, Tom.’

“ ‘No, your honor; it‘s on the strength of the catI
come to spake to you—‘ I

“ ‘ I think it‘s on the strength of a pint of whisky,

om—
“ ‘ By the vartue o‘ u'liy oath, your honor, it's nothin‘
but the cat.‘ And so om then told him all about the
air, and the squire was astonished. Just
then the bisho of the diocese and the priest of the
h hap on to call in and heard the story; and the
op an the riesthad a tough argument for two
hours on the subfect; the former swe she must be
a witch; but the priest den ing that, an maintaining
she was only enchanted; an that part of the argument
w“ 3'“th will“ “2 it." “mt Fit”? “his
ueny econ vea me;u egpee—
c ed interfering about cats, saying he had q to en-
ou h to do minding his own bulls.
‘ ‘ In the meantime, what are we to do with the cat 7‘
says Botherum.
“ Burn her,’ says the bishop. ‘ she’s a witch.’
“ ‘ Only enchanted,” said the priest—J and the eccle-
siastical court maintains that—‘
“ ‘Bother the ecclesiastical courtl‘ said the magis-
lrate- ‘I can only proceed on the statutes" and with
t t he pulled down all the law-books in his library
on hunted the laws from een Elizabeth down, an
he found that they made aws against everything in
ireland 6206 lo cat. The devil a filing escaped them
but a cat, w ch did not come within the meaning of
any act of parliament—the cat: only had escaped.
“ ‘There s the alien act, to be sure,‘ said the magis-
iirate, ‘ and perha s she's a French spy, in disguise.’
“‘she as e a French spy, sure eno h,‘ says
she was missin’, I remember, all t Spy-

susgigous,‘ says the squire—‘ but convic-

cult; andl have a fresh idea,‘ says

tion ht be
Bo hm

t erum.

“ ‘Faith, it won‘t keep fresh long this hot weather,’
says Tom; ‘ so your honor had betther make use of it
at wanst.’

“ ‘ Right,’says Botherum -‘we’ll make her subject to
the game laws; we'll hunt r,‘ says he.

“- Owl—elegantl’ says Tom;—‘ we’ll have a brave
run out of her.‘ .

“ ‘Meet me at the crossroads] says the squire, ‘ln
the mo , and I‘ll have the hounds ready. . .

“ Well, 0 ' Tom went home; and he was racking his
brain what excuse he could make to the cat for not
b ‘ ‘ the sgoes; and atlast he hit one off, just as he
flaw er can up to him, half-arming before he got

ome.
“ ‘ Where's the shoes. Tom?‘ says she.

“ ‘ I have not got them to-day, ma‘am,‘ sa 5 he.

“ ‘ Is that the way you keep your promise, om ?’ says
che;—‘I’ll tell you what it is, Toni—I‘ll tare the eyes
outo‘ the childre’ if on don’t get me shoes.‘

'Whishtl whishtl says Tom frightened out of his
Ito for his children’s eyes, ‘ Don't be in a passion,
pussy. shoemaker said he hadnot a shoe in his
shop, nor a last that would make one to fit you; and he
says, I must bring you into the town for' to take

.70“?

measure.
“an when am I to go!‘ lays the cat, looking

Winn-r0 ,‘ Tom. ’
‘. Jar-wan :ouflgthet. Tom.‘ midtth wan

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devil an eye I’d leave in your family this night’~and
of]! she bogged. .

“ Tom t ‘mbled at the wicked look she gave.

“ ‘ Rememberl’ says she, ever the hedge, with a bit~
ter caterwaul.

“ ‘ Never fear,’ sa 5 Tom.

“ Well, sure enoug the next mornin’ there was the cat
at cock-crow, licking herself as hate as a new pin, to go
into the town, and out came Tom with a bag undher his
arm, and the cat afther him. ,

“ ‘ Now git into this, and I’ll carry you into the town,’
says Tom, opening the bag.

‘ ‘ Sure I can walk with you,’ says the cat.

“ ‘Oh, that wouldn‘t do,‘ says Tom; ‘the people in
the town is curious and slandhei'ous people, and sure it
would rise ugly remarks if I was seen with a cat aftlier
inc—a dog is a man's companion by nature, but cats
does not stand to rayson.’

“Well, the cat, seeing there was no use in argument,
got into the bag, and 0!! Tom set to the cross-roads
with the bag over his shoulder, and he came up, gin-e
imment-lihe, to the corner, where the squire, and his
huntsman and the hounds, and a pack 0’ people were
waitin‘. but came the squire on a sudden, just as if it
was all by accident.

” ‘ God save you, Tom,’ says he.

“ ‘ God save you kindly, sir,’ says Tom.

“I‘ What’s that bag you have at your back?‘ says the

uire.

“ ‘ Oh, nothin’ at all, sir,” sa '3 Tom—makin’ a face all
the time, as much as to say, have her safe.

“ ‘Oh, there‘s something in that b , I think,’ says
the siiuire; ‘ and you must let me see it.

“ ‘ f you bethray me, Tom Connor,’ says the cat in a
low yoice, ‘ by this and that I’ll never spake to you

am ‘

“ ‘ Pon in honor, sir,’ said Tom, with a wink and a
twitch of is thumb toward the bag, ‘ I haven’t any-
thing in it.‘

“ ‘I have been missing my praties of late,’ says the
squire; ‘ and I’d just like to examine that bag,” says he.

“ ‘ It is doubting my charackther you‘d be, Sir? says
Tom, reteuding to be in a passion.

“ ‘ om, your sowll’ sa s the voicein the sack, ‘if you
let the cat out of the bag, I ll murther you.’

“ ‘ An honest man would make no objection to be
s‘arched,’ said the squire; ‘and I insist on it,’ says he
laying hold 0’ the bag, and Tom pumnding to fight all
the time; but, my gewell before two m1 tes, they
shook the cat out o the bag, sure enou h, a (1 off she
went with her tail as big as a swee ing rush, and the
squire, with a thundering view h 00 after her, clapt
the do at her heels, and away they went for the bare
life. ever was there seen such running as that day—
the cat made for a shaking bog, the loneliest place in the
whole country, and there the riders were all thrown
out, barrin' the huntsman, who had a web-footed horse
on purpose for soft glues; and the priest, whose horse

on d go anywhere reason of the griest’s blessing,
and, sure enoug t e huntsman an his riverence
stuck to the hunt e wax; and just as the cat got on
the border of the bog, they saw her give a twist as the
foremost dog closed with her, for he gave her a nip in
the flank. Still she went on, however and headed
them well, toward an old mud cabin in the middle _of
the hog and there they saw her jump in at the Win-
dow, an nip came the dogs the nextniiiiit, and athered
round the ouse with the most horrid howling at ever
was heard. The huntsman alighted, and went into the
house to turn the cat out again, when what should he
see but an old hag lying in bed in the corner.

“ ‘Did you see a cat come in here?’ says he,

“ ‘ Oh, no—o—o—ol’ squealed the old bag, in a trem-
bling voice; ‘ there‘s no cat here,’ says she.

“ ‘ Yelp, yelp yelpl‘ went the do s outside.

“ ‘Oh, keep e do out 0' this, says the old hag——
‘ oh—o—o—o!’ and .t e huntsman saw her eyes glare
under the blanket, Just like a cat’s.

“ ‘ Hillo !‘ says-the huntsman, pulling down the blanket,
and what should he see but the old hag’s flank all in a
gore of blood. _

“ ‘Ow, owl you old divil—is it you? you ould catl‘
says he, ogenmi' the door.

‘In rus ed t e do up jumped the old md
changing into a cat efore their 6 es, out e d
through the window again, and
it' but she couldn't escape, and the do obbled her
w ile you could sa ‘ Jack Robinson.‘ at he most re-
markable part of his extraordinary story, gentlemen,
is that the pack was ruined from that day out; for
after having eaten the enchanted cat, {he devil a thing
they would ever hunt afterward (ml mm.’

CHAPTER XXIV.

Mnarsv‘s story was received With acclamation by all
but the little man. .

“ That is all a pack of nonsense," said he. “

“ Well, you’re welcome to it, sir,” said Murphy, and
if I had greater nonsense you should have it; but seri-
ously, sir, I again must beg on to remember that the
count all around heretha tunds mugqfifigmgng;
scarce a' t swi on some ;u,
howeveyr ngug mapafisoeubt the wonderful fact of the cat
speak‘ , I won er you are not lmpressednwith the
points 0 moral in which thestory abounds—

“ Fiddlestickl" said the miniature snarler.

“ First, the little touch about the corn monopoly!!!—
then maternal vanity chastised b the loss of the child s
toe—then Tom’s familiarity wit_ his cat, sho the
danger arising from a man makingtoo free with s fe
male domestics—the historical paint about the penal
laws—the fatal results of letting the cat out 9 the bag,
with the curious final fact in natural history:

“It’s all nonsense,” said the little man, and I am
ashamed of m self for bein such a fool as to sit a-lls-
telling to suciyi, stufl inste of gouig to bed after the
fatigue of my 'oumey and the neces ty of rising early
to-morrow, to in good time at the polling. ”

M“ 0h! then you‘re going to the e ectloa, sir? said

u y.
“ es, sir—there’s some sense in that—and you, 1gen-
tlemgln, rdemembe; vlilre must be afllu , early—and 1'6-
com on on to o ow exam e.

The littley man rung tngbell—tfie bootij and slip-
Pers were called for, and, after some delay, a ve
Shelli-10051151903300“ entered with a bootjack under

“ 1513351" ‘ppllm' 2” said th little man. V

so 5 1-: e

“You did, 8;." ppe

“ Where are they, sin"

“ The masther says there isn’t any, if you plaza, air}:

5 another run for

 

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“No slip rsl and you call this an inn? Obi—well,
‘ what can‘ be cured must be endured ’—hold me the
bootjack, sir." ‘

The gossoon obeyed—the little man inserted his heel
in the cleft, but, on attempting to pull his foot from the
boot, he nearly went heels over head backward. Murphy
caught him and put him on his le 5 ain.

“ eads up, soldiers," excl e Murtough; “i
thought on were drinking too much.”

“ Sir, I m not intoxicatedl” said the mannikin, snail'
pishly. “ It is the fault of that vile bootjack—what son
of athing is that you have brought?” added he in i
ra e to the gas-soon.

It‘s the bootjack, sir; on] one ‘o the horns is gone
you see,” and he held up to v ew a rough piece of beam
with an angular slit in it, but one of " the horns,” as lo
called it, had been broken off at the top, leaving the an
ticle useless.

“ How dare you bring such a thing as that!" laid the
little man, in a great rage. _

“ hy, sir, you ax‘d for a bootJack, sure, and I
brought you the best I had-and it’s not my fault it‘s
bruk, so it is, for it wasn‘t me bruk it, but Biddy b’atln'
the cock.”

“ Beatin the cockl” repeated the little man, in sur-
prise. “ l3 ess me! beat a cock with a bootjackl—what
sav esl‘

“ Oh it‘s not the hen cock I mane, sir,” said the os«
soon, ‘ but the beer cock—she was b‘atin‘ the cock am
the barrel, sir, wid the bootjack, sir."

“ That was decidedly wrong," said Murphy; “a
bootjack is better suited to a heel-tap than a full
me‘absure.” ,

1‘ ‘he was tapping the beer, you mean?” said the lit-
t 8 man.

“Faix, she wasn‘t ta plug it at all, sir but hittln‘ it
very hard, she was, an that’s the way she bruk it."

“Barbarians!” exclaimed the little man; “using a
bootjack instead of a hammer!"

“ Sure the hammer was gone to the priest, sir; bekase
he wanted it for the crucifixion.”

“The crucifixion l” exclaimed the little man, horri-
fied; “is it possible they crucify people?"

“ Oh no sir!” said the gossoon, grinning, “ it‘s the
picthure I main sir—an illigant pictnure that is hung
up in the cliape , and he wanted a hammer to dhrlve

the nails—'

“ Oh, a picture of the crucifixion,” said the little
man.

“Yes, sure sir—the alther-piece, that was althered
for to fit to t e lace, for it was too big when it came
down from Dub in, so they cut of! the sides where the
sojers was, bekase it stopt out the windows, and
wouldn’t l’ave a bit 0‘ light for his riverence to read
mass; and sure the sojers were no loss out o‘ the alther~
piece, and was hung up afther in the vesthery, and
serve them right, the blackguards. But it was sore
sgen our will to cut off the ladies at the bottom, that
was cryin' and roarin’; but great ood luck, the head 0‘
the Blessed Vir in was presarve in the corner, and
sure it‘s beaut‘ to see the tears runnln‘ down her
face, just over the hole in the wall for the holy wather
—-which is remarkable." r

The gossoon was much oflended b the is hter that
followed his account of the altar-p ace, whl he had
no intention of making irreverential, and suddenly he-
came silent, with a muttered “More shame for ylz;”
-and as his bootjack was impracticable, he was sent off
with orders for the chambei'maid to supply bed candles
immediately.

The part soon separated for their various dormi-
tories, the ittle man leaving sundry charges to call
them early in the morning, and to be sure to have hot
water ready for shaving, and, without fail, to have
their boots polished in time and left at their room doors
—to all which in unctions lie severally received the an-
swer of, “Ce , sir;" and as the bed-room doors
were slapped to one by one, the last sound of the retir-
ing party was the snappish voice of-the indefatigable
little man, shouting ere he shut his door,—“Early—-
early—don‘t forget, Mistress Kel —-early!'

A shake-down for Murpliy in t 9 par or was hastily
prepared; and after Mrs. elly was assured by Mur-

ough that he was quite comfortable, and rfecily con-
tent with his accommodation, for whlc she made
scores of a logies, with lamentatlons it was no better
etc. etc., he whole household retired to rest, and
in about a quarter of an hour the in was in perfect si-

ence.

Then Murmugh cautiously opened his door and after
listening for some minutes, and being satisfied he was
the only watcher under the roof, he gently opened one
of the parlor windows and gave the preco lic-
nal which he and Dick had agreed u n. Dick was
under the windowimmediatel , and r exchanng
a few words with Murtough, t e latter withdrew an
taking off his boots and screening with his hand the
light of a candle he carried he cautiously
the stairs, and proceeded stealthlly along the corridor
of the dormitory, where, from the chambers on each
side a concert of snoring began to be executed and at
all the doors stood the boots and shoes of the inmates
awaiting the aid of Day and Martin in the morning.
But, oh! innocent calfskin-destined to a far duel-eat
fate—not Day and Martin, but Dick the Devil and Com-
pany are in wait for (you. Murphy collected as man
as he could carry un or his arms and descended wit
them to the parlor window, where they were trans-
ferred to Dick, who earned them directly to the horse4
pond which lay behind the inmfind there committed
them to the doe . After a few Journeys up and down
stairs, Murtoug had left the electors without a morsel
of sole or nipper leather, and was satisfied that a con-
siderable e ayl, if not a prevention of their appear-

P0

ance at the on the morrow, would be the conse-
uence. *
q “There, Dick,” said Murphy “is the last of them,"
asuhe ‘liianded ttlze httle man’s shoes out of the Thaw
— an now saveapearances. on mu: 9
mine too—foi- I must be Iwithout boat: as well as the
rest in the morning. What fun I shall have when tbs
ugroar be ns—don’t you envy me, Dick! There, he
0 110W; ut hark’e, notwithstanding ouvtake away
1311me, you need not throw them to the horse
on

" Faith, an’ I will,” said Dick, " them on
Of his hands; “ ’twould notbe honors x didn’t-
I’d five two pair of boots for the fungal., have.-

“ onsense, Dick—Dick, I say—my tsl”

“Honor!” criedDick, sshevanlshed roundthscoms,‘

“ That devil will keep his word, y
as he closed the window—“ I may bid good-by to

* Hand And was written when the “vexed quesi pair of boots—bad lucktohlml‘ And yet the merry
" of {he “ Cyors w “ a rb sub-i attome could not help laughing at Dick making him a
$013M I“ '1 '“tfhew‘m his; sunereryhvhisowntrick. ,

_No.79.

 

Handy Andy.

Dick did kee his word; andafter, with particular de— ' Andy was answering some questions of the inquisi-
c

light, sinking
was preconcerted, returned to the cottage of Barny,
and with his asmstance drew the upset gig from the

urphy's boots with the rest, he, as it , tive little man, when the kit

i

ien maid, handing the
basting—ladle to Andy, begged him to do a good turn
and 'ust to haste the beef for her, for that her heart

ditch, and with a Second set of harness, previded for was roke with all she had to do, cooking dinner for so
the occasion, yoked the servant‘s horse to the vehicle 1 many.

and drove home.

Andy always ready to oblige, consented, and plied

Murphy, meanwhile, was bent on more mischief at . the ladle actively between the troublesome queries of

the inn: and lest the loss of the boots and shOes might
not be productive of sufficient impediment to the move-
ments of the enemy be determined on venturing a step
further.
travelers enabled him to enter their chambers unob.
served and over the arments they had taken off he

ured the contents 0? the water-jug and water-bottle
ie found in each room, and then laying the empty bot-
tle and a tumbler on a chair beside each slee ier’s bed,
he made it appear as if the drunken men had een dry
in the night, and, in their endeavors to cool their thirst,
had upset the water over the1r own clothes. The
clothes of the little man, in particular, Murphy took
es ecial delight in sousing more profusely than his
ne ghbor's, and not content With taking his shoes, burnt
his stockings, and left the ashes in the dish of the
candlestick, with just as much unconsumed as would
show what they had been. He then retired to the par-
lor, and with many an internal chuckle at the thought
of the momin ‘s hubbub, threw off his clothes and
flingln himse on the Shakedown Mrs. Kelly had pro-
vided or him, was soon wrapt in the profoundest slum-
ber, from which he never awoke until the morning
uproar of the inn aroused him. He jumped from his
lair and rushed to the scene of action, to soar in the
storm of his own raising; and to make it more apparent
that he had been as great a sufilerer as the rest, 6 only
threw a quilt over his shoulders and did not draw on his
stockings. In this plight be scaled the stairs and joined
the stormii party, where the little man was leadin
the forlorn io ., with his candlestick in one hand am
the remnant 0 his burnt stocking between the finger
and thumb of the other. .

“ Look at that, sir i" he cried, as he held it up to the
landlord.

The landlord could only stare.

“Bless moi" cried Murphy, “how drunk you must
have been to mistake your stocking for an extin-
guisherl“

“ Drunk, sir—I wasn‘t drunk!" .

“It looks ve like it," said Murphy, who did not wait
for an answer, at hustled off to another party who was
ringing out his inexpressibles at the door of his bed;I
room, and swearing at the gossoon that he mutt have
his boots.

" I never seen them, sir,“ said the boy. i

“ I left them at my door," said the man.

“ So did I leave mine," said Murphy, " and here I am
barefooted-it is most extraordinary."

“ Has the heuse been robbed :1" said the innocent
elector.

“Not a one 0' me knows, sir!" said the boy; “but
how could it be robbed and the doors all fast this
mornin’?"

The landlady now appeared, and fired at the word
“robbed!” . _

“Robbed, sirl" exclaimed Mrs. Kelly; no, sir—no one
was ever robbed in my house—~my house is respectable
and responsible, sir——a vartuous house—none 0’ your
rantipolo géaces, sir, I‘d have you to know, but decent

pandgvaellllm lliltzved, and the house was as quiet as a
m .
“ Certainf Mrs. Kelly," said Murph ~—“ not a more

respectable house in Ireland—I’ll vouc for that."

“ You‘re a. gentleman, Misther Murpb ,“ said Mrs.
Kelly, who turned down the passa e, u tering indi -
nant ejaculations in a sort of snort if manner, whi 8
her words of anger were returned by urpb ' with ex-
pressions of soothing and condolence ashe fo lowed her
down-stairs.

The storm still continued above, and while there the
shouted and swore and complained, Mur hy gave 1; s
notion of the catastrophe to the landl y below. in-
fe ' that the men were drunk and poured the water
overt eir own clothes. To repeat this idea to them-
selves he re-ascended, but the men were incredulous.
The little man he found buttoning on a pair of black
gaiters, the only serviceable decency he had at his com-
mand, which only rendered his denuded state more lu-
dicrous. To him Murphy asserted his belief that the
whole affair was enchantinent, and ventured to hope
the small individual would have more faith in fairy
machinations for the futurez to which the little abor-
tion only returned his usual ‘ Pho! phol nonsensel"

Through all this scene of uproar, as Murph passed
to and fro, whenever he encountered the andlord,
that worthy individual threw him a knowing look“ and
the exclamation of "Oh, Misther Mu hy—b dadl"

iven in a low chuckling tone insinuate that t 6 land-
ord not only smoked, but enjoyed the Joke. .

“ You must lend me a pair of boots. Kelly." said
Murtough.

“ To be sure sir-ha! ha! ha l—but you are the quaro
man Misther hy—" I O

“ gend down tm-oad andget mygigout of the ditch “

“To be sure, sir. Poor devils! piirty hands they got
into,” and OR went the landlord, with a chuckle. '

The messengers sent for the gig returned, declaring
there was no gig to be seen anywhere. .

Murphy affected gil'eat surprise at the intelhgence—

ain went among 1: e bamboozled electors, who were
a obliged tog) to bed for want of clothes; and his
bitter lamentati us over the loss of his gig almost re-
conciled them to their minor troubles.

To the fears they expressed that they should not be
able to reach the town in time for polling that day,
Murphy told them to set their minds at rest, for they
won d e in time on the next.

He then borrowed a saddle as well asthe pair of boots
from the landlord, and the little black mare bore Mur-
phy triumphant] back to the town, after he had
securely impoun ed Scatterbrain‘s voters, who were
anxiously and hourly expected by their friends. Still
the came not. At last, Handy. Andy, who ha pened
to in town with Scatterbrain, was dispute ed to
hurry them, and his orders were not to come back
without them.

Handy, on his arrival at the inn, found the electors
‘ bed, and all the fires in the house emplo ed in drying

eir clothes. The little man, we. a blanket,
was super-intending the cooking of own before the
kitchen grate; there hung his garments on some crose
sticks suspended by a strin , after the fashion of s
roasting-jack which the s gentleman turned befora
ablazing turf fire; and beside this contrivance of his
gang agoodly joint of meat, which a bouncing kitchen

came over to haste now and than.

i
l
l

 

the little man; but at last, getting confused with some
ver crabbed questions iut to hiui, Andy became com-
plc ely bothered, and 1i tin a brimming ladle of drip-

The heavy sleeping of the weary and tipsy i ling, poured it over the litt e man‘s coat instead of the

ice

A roar from the to rietor of the clothes followed,
and be implanted a ic at such advantage u on Andy,
that be upset him into the dripping-pan; ant Andy, lll
his fall, endeavoring to support himself, caught at the
sus ended articles above nu, and the clothes, and the
bee , and Andy, all swam in gravy.

CHAPTER XXV.

WHILE disaster and hubbub were rife below, the
electors lip-stairs were holding a council whether it
would not be better to send back the “honorable‘s”
messen er to the town and request a supply of shoes,
which t iey had no other means of cttin . l‘he debate
was of an odd Hort; they were, all in their several beds
at the time, and roared at each other through their
doors, which were purposely left open that they might
enjoy each other’s Conversation; number seven replied
to number three, and claimed respect to his arguments
on the score of seniority; the blue room was completely
controverted by the yellow; and the double-bedded
room would, of course, have had superior weight in the
argument, only that everything it said was lost by
the two honorable members speaking to ether. The
French king used to hold a council calle< a “bed of
justice,” in which neither 'ustice nor a bed had any-
thing to do so that this rish conference better de-
served the title than any council the Bourbon ever as-
sembled. The debate having concluded, and the nes-
tion being put and carried, the usher of the back
counterpane was desired to get out of bed, and, wrapped
in the robe of office whence he derived his title, to go
down-stairs and call the “ Honorable’s ” messen or to
the “bar of the house," and there order him a p nt of
porter, for refreshment after his ride; and forthwith to
send him back again to the town for a sup ly of shoes,

The house was unanimous in voting tie supplies.
The usher reached the kitchen and found Andy in his
shirt sleeves, scraping the dri ping from his livery
with an old knife, whose hackled) edge considerably as-
sisted And ‘3 own ingenuity in the tearing of his coat
in many p aces, while the little man made no effort
toward the repair of his garment, but held up before
him, and regarded it with a iteous look.

To the usher of the blac counte ane's question,
whether Andy was the “Honorab e’s messenger,"
Andy replied in the affirmative' but to the desire ex-
pressed, that he would ride back to the town, Andy re-
turned a decided negative.

A“1My ordhers is not to go back without you,” said

in .

“ l’i’ut we have no shoes," said the usher; “ and can-
not 0 until we get some. ’

“ Iy ordher is not to go back without you."

“ But if we can't got‘

“ Well, then I can’t 0 back, that's all " said Andy.

The usher, the land and, and the lan lady all ham-
mered away at Andy for a lon time, in vain t ing to
convince him he ought to re urn, as he was eslred-
still Andy stuck to the letter of his orders, and he sat
he often got into trouble for not doing exactly what he
was bid, and that he was bid “not to go back without
them, and he would not—so he wouldn t-odivil a. fut.“

At last, however, Andy was made to understand the
propriety of ridin back to the town; and was desired
to go as fast as is horse could carry him, to gallop
every foot of the way; but Andy did no such thing; he
had received a gom thrashing once for being caught
galloping his master's horse on the road, and he had no
ntention of runni the risk a second time, because
“the straw er” tol him to do so. “What does he
know abou it?” said Andy .to himself; “ faith, it’s fair
and aisy I‘ll go, and not disthress the horse to plaze
any one." Soho went back his ten miles at reasonable
pace onl ; and when he a peered Without the electors,
a storm urst on poor An y.

" There! I knew howit would be," said he, “and not
in fault ata ."

‘Woren‘t you told not to return without them i"

“ But wait till I tell you how it was, sure;" and then
Andy began an account of the condition in which the
voters lay at the inn; but between the impatience of
those who heard, and the confused manner of Andy’s
recital, it was some time before mattei ‘were explained;
and then Andy was des1red to ride’ ack to the inn
again, to tell the electors shoes should be forwarded after
him in a post-chaise, and requesting their utmost exer-
tions in hastening over to the town. for that the election
was oing against them. Andy returned to the inn;
and t 's time, under orders from. headquarters, gal-
loped in 00d earnest and brought in his horse smoking
hot, anc indicating ameness. The day was wean
apace, and it was so late when the electors were enable
to start that the polling-booths were closed before they
could leave the town; and in many of these booths the
requisite number of electors had not been polled that
day to keep them open; so that the next day nearly all
those outlying electors, about whom there had been so
much trouble and expense, would be of no avail. Thus,
Min 11 ‘5 trick was finite successful, and the poor
pick e electors were riven back to their inn in dud-

eon.

g Andy, when he went to the stable to saddle his steed
for a return to Neck-or-lflot Hall, found him do
lame, so that to ride him be tor than twelve miles
home was impossible. Andy was obh ed to leave him
where he was, and trudge it to the all; for all the
horses in Kelly‘s stables were knocked up With their
da ’swork. _

sit was shorterb four miles across the country
than 1, the mad, An y pursued the former course; and
as he new the country well the shades of evening,
which were now closing roun , did not deter him in the
least. Andy was not very fresh for the Journeymbe
sure, for he had ridden u ward of thirt miles that
day, so the merry whistle, w_ ich is so con antly heard
from the lively Irish pedestrian, did not while away the
tedium of his w k.. It was night when Andy was
breasting upa low 115189 of hills, which lay between
him and the end of his Journey; and when in silence
and darkness he topped the ascent he threw himself
on some heather to rest and take reath. Hlsatten-
tion was suddenly caught by a. small blue dune. which

 

 

   

flickered now and then on the face of the hill, not very
far from him; and And ‘s fears of fairies and goblins
came crowding upon h in thick and fast. He wished to
rise, but could not; his eye continued to be strained
with the fascination of fear in the direction he saw the
fire, and sought to pierce the gloom tlirou h which, at
intervals, the small point of flame flashed iriglilly and
sunk again, making the darkness seem dccpcr. Andy
lily in perfect stillness, and in the silence, which was
unbroken even by his own breathi , he thought he
heard voices underground. He tremb cd from head to
foot, for he was certain they were the voices of the
fairies, whom be firmly believed to inhabit the hills.

“ 0h! murdher, what ‘11 I do?“ thought Andy to him
self; “ sure I heerd often, if once you were within the
sound of their voices you could never get out 0' their

ower. Obi if I could only say a pat/107‘ and are,

lit I forget my prayers with the fright. Hall, Meryl
The king 0‘ the fairies lives in these bills, I know—
and his house is undher me this minlt, and I on the
roof of it—I‘ll never get down again—I'll never get down
again—they‘ll make me slater to the fairies, and sure
enough I remember me, the hill is all covered with flat
stones they call fairy slates. Ohl I am ruined—God be
praised!" Here be blessed himself, and laid his head
close to the earth. “Guardian angels—I hear their
voices singin' a dhrinkiiig song— oh! if I had a dhrop 0'
water myself, for m mouth is as dliry as a lime-burn-
er‘s wi —nnd I on t 10 top 0‘ their house—scc—there‘s
the Iitt c blaze a ain—I wonder is their chimbly aflre—
Ohi murther l i die 0' thirst—oh! if I had only one
dhrop o' watber—I wish it would rain or hail—Hail,
Mary, full 0‘ grace—whlsht! what’s that?" Andy
couched lower than before, as he saw a figure rise from
the earth, and attain a hight which Andy computed
to be something about twenty feet: his heart shrunk to
the size of a nutshell, as he beheld the monster expand
to his full dimensions; and at the same moment, a
second, equally large, emerged from the ground.

Now, as fairies are notoriously little people, Andy
chan ed his 0 inion of the parties into whose power he
had alien, um saw clearly they were giants, not fairies
of whom he was about to become the victim. lie woul
have ejaculated a rayer for mercy, had not terror
rendered him speec ass, as the remembrance of all
the giants he had ever heard of, from the days of Jack
and the Bean-Stalk down, came into his head; but
though his sense of speaking was gone, that of hearing
was painfully acute, and he heard one of the giants

3a, _
X That pot is not big enoug ."
t‘l;0hl t howlds as much as we want." replied the
0 er.
“Oh Lord,“ thought Andy; “they've got their pot
readylfgr cooking.’
“ t keeps him i" said the first giant.
“ Oh, he‘s not far 0 ," said the second.
A clainmy shiverin came over Andy.
“ I'm hungry," sai the first, and he hiccuped as he

s ke.
p‘(Ilt's only a false appetite you have,“ said the second,
“ ou're drunk.“
is was a new light to Andy, for he thought giants
were too strong to get drunk. I.

“ I could ate a young child, without parsle and but -.
ther,“ said the drunken giant. Andy gave u aint spas-r
modic kick.

“ And it’s as hot as down there,“ said the giant.

Andy trembled at the horrid word he heard.

“No wonder," said the second ant; “ for I can see
the flame popping out at the top 0 the chimbl ; that‘s
bad: I hope no one will see i-, or it might g vc them
warning. Bad luck to that young divil for making the
fire so sthrong."

Whats. dreadful hearing this was for Andy: you
devils to make their fires; there was no doubt who
place they were dwelling in. “ Thunder and turf," says
the drunken giant; “ I wish I had a slice of—"

Andy did not hear what he wished a slice of, for the
night wind swe t across the heath at the moment, and
carried away t e monster‘s disgusting words on its
pure breath.

“Well, I'd rather have-—" said the other giant; and
again And lost what his atrocious desires were—
“ than all t a other slices in the world. What a lovely
Lound shoulder she has, and the nice round ankle of

er_..

The word “ ankle “ showed at once it was a woman of
whom he spoke, and Andy shuddered. “ The monstersl
to eat a woman."

“ What a fool you are to be in love," said the drunken
East with many hiccups, showing the increase of his

e a mu.

“Is that what the brutes call love," thought Andy,
“ to eat a woman?“

“I wish she was bone of my bone and flesh of my
flesh," said the second giant.

Of this speech And heard onl “ bone " and “flesh,”
and had great dimwa in main aining the serenity of
his diaphragm.

The conversation of the giants was now more fre-
quently interrupted by the wind which was rising, and
only broken sentences reached Andy. Whose 8911698 be-
came clearer the [on er he reinainedin aystatc of safe‘
ty; at last he heard 518 name of Squire Egan distinctly

53 between the 'ants.
pa“ So they know quire Egan," thou ht Andy.

The first giant gave a drunken laug i at the mention
of mm 11233111: name, and exclaimed:

“ on‘t be afraid of him (M60131); I have him under
in thumb (hiccup). I can crush iin when I pl‘ase."

‘Ohl my poor owld Mastherl” mentally ejaculated
Andy.

Another break intheir conversation occurred, and the
next name Andy overheard was “ O’Grady.”

“ The big bully!" said the second giant.

“ They know the whole country," thought Andy.

“ But tell me, what was that you said to him at the
election?" said the drunken one.

The word “election” recalled And to the business
of this earth back again; and it struc u n his hither-
to bewildered sensorium that ants ooul have nothing
to do with elections, and he new he never saw them
there; and, as the thought struck him, it seemed as if
the ants diminished in size, and did not appear quilt

so b .

“Sure on know," said the second.

“Well,yI'd like to hear it again," said the drunken
one (hiccup) ‘

“ The bill bully says to me, ‘ Have you a lease! says
be: ‘NO.' Ba 8 I: ‘ butI have an article!‘ ‘What article?
so. he; t‘s a. fine brass blunderbussnggyn I, ‘and
rfim to we the man would (1in the am!

The drunken listener chuckled, and the words broke
the spell of supernatural terror which had hung ovu-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Andy; he knew by the words of the speaker, it was the
bully joker of t e election was present who browbeat
O’Grady and out-quibblcd the agent about the oath of
allegiance‘ and the voice of the other he soon recog-
nized for t at of Larry Hogan. {50 now his "iants were
diminished into mortal men—tho pot, whic had been
mentioned to the terror of his soul, was for the making
of whisky instead of human bi'oth——aiid the “hell ” he
thought his giants inhabited was but a private still.
Andy felt as if a mountain had been lifted from his
heart when he found it was but mortals he had to deal
vith; for Andy was not deficient in coura cwhen it
was but tlicws and sincws like his own he ad to en—
counter. He still lay concealed, however, for smug-
glers mi ht not wish their private haunt to be discov-
ered, out it was possible Andy would be voted one too
many in the company should he announce himself;
and with such odds as two to one against him he thought
he had better be L uict. Besides, his curiosity became
excited when he lound them speaking of his old mas-
ter, Egan, and his present one, O’Grady; and as a
woman had been alluded to, and odd words caught up
here and there, he became anxious to hear more of
their conversation. “ So you‘re in love,” said ,
with a hiccup, to our friend of the blunderbuss; “hai
hai ha! you bi fool.”

i'nyell, you 0 d thief, don’t you like a purty girl your-
sc 2"

“ I did, when I was young and foolish.”

"Faith, then, you’re youn and foolish at that rate
yet. for you’re a rogue with t 8 girls, Larry," said the
other, giving him a slap on the back.

"Not 11 notIl” said Larry, in a manner expressive
of his not being displeased with the charge of gallan-
try: “he! hel he l-~how do you know, oh ‘2" (17%;)?

“Sure, I know in self; but as I was telling you, it
could only lay how d of~” here his voice became in-
audible to Andy, and the rest of the sentence was lost.
1) Andy’s curiosity was great. “Who could the girl

0?"

“ And you’d carry1 her 011?" said Larry.

D “I would,” said t e other; “ I'm only afraid o’ Squire
igan.‘

At this announcement of the intention of “ca. '
her off,” coupled with the fear of “ Squire Egan, ’
Andy’s anxiety to hear the name of the erson became
so intense that he crawled cautiously a. ittle nearer to
the speakers.

“ I tell you again,” said Larry, “ I can settle Mm aisy
(Interim—he’s undher my thum Macaw.”

" Bo aisy,” said the other contemptuous] , who
thought this was a mere drunken delusion of [Vim-ire.

“ I tell you I‘m his mastherl" said Lar , wit
drunken flourish of his arm; and he continue bragging
of his power over the squire in various e'aculations, the
z-xact meaning of which our friend of t e blunderbuss
could not fathom, but Andy heard eno h to show him
that the discovery of the post-office air was what
Larry alluded to.

That Larry, a close, cunning, circumventing rascal,

should so far betray the source of his power over Egan sai

may seem stran e; but be it remembered Larry was
drunk, a state 0 weakness which his caution generally
guarded him from falling into, but which being in, his
i'oible was bragging of his influence, and so running the
risk of losing it.

The men continued to talk together for some time,
Hid the tenor of the conversation was that Larry
assured his com anion he might carry off the girl
without fear of Egan, but her name Andy could not
discover. His own name he heard more than once. and
voluptuous ruptures poured forth about lovely lips and
hips and ankles from the herculean knight of the
blunderbuss, amidst the maudlin admiration and hic-
acups of Larry, who continued to bra of his Wer,
and profess his readiness to stand by ‘ friend 21 car-
rying off the girl. i

“ Then,” said the Hercules, with an oath, “I‘ll soon
have you in my arms, my lov "

The name was lost again.

Their colloquy was now interrupted by the approach
of aman and woman, the former being the arson for
whose appearance Larry made so many inq ries when
he first appeared to Andy as the hungry giant' the
other was t e sister of the knight of the lunder uss
Larry having hiccuped his anger against the man for
making them wait so long for the bacon, the woman said
he should not wait longer Without his suppler now, for
that she would go down and f the res ers imme-
diately. She than than peered t ough the ground,
and the men all follow . "

Andy drew his breath (reel once more, and with
caution raised himself gradua y from the ground with
a careful circumspection, lost any of the subterranean
community might bewatchers on the hill; and when
he was satisfied he was free from observation, he stole
away from the spot With stealthy steps for about twen-
ty paces, and there, as well as the darkness would per-
mit, after taking such landmarks as would help him to
retrace his way to the still, if requisite, he dashed down
the hill at the to of his speed. This pace he did not
moderate until 6 had placed nearly a mile between
him and the scene of his adventure: he then paced
slowly to regain his breath. His head was in a strange
whirl; misc iet' was threatened against some one of
whose name he was ignorant; S uire Egan was de-
clared to be in the power of an 01 rascal; this grieved
Andy most of all, for he felt that he was the cause of
his old master’s dilemma. _ , '

‘- om to think I should bring him into trouthe,” said
Andy, "' the kind and good masther he was to me ever,
and liveto tell it like a blackguard—throth I’d rather
be hanged any? than the masther w (I come to
thi‘oublenmay ‘ I gave myself up and was hanged
like a man at once, that would settle it; faith,‘ if
1 tho ht it would, I'd do it sooner than Squire
Egan s ould come to throublei” and POOP. A’ndy
9:)0ke just what he felt. “ Or would it do to kill that
bloc uard Hoggn? euro tlwy could do no more than ham
me of '9' and t t would save the masther, and be
one to me, for they often tould me I’d be hanged. But
then there’s ni sowl,” said Andy, and he paused at
the thought; “if they hanged me for the letthers, it
would be only for a mistake, and sure then I’d have a
chance 0’ glory" for sure I might go to glory through a
mistake; but it killed a. man on urpose, sure it would
be slappin‘ the ates of Heaven my own face. Faix,
i’ll spake to Fat r Blake about it."+

* How often has the sanguinary nal code of past
years suggested this reflection and Iii-invoked the guilt
it was meant to awei Ha piiy, now our laws are
milder, and more protective in their mildness.

. + In the for oing passage, Andy stumbles on utter-
bg aquaint p easantry. for it is partly true as well as

 

 

‘ mwm ““h’flm 1‘5". “2-

 

7 MThe

 

,._ u,._ , .__....__,.br..~ -mfl ._, .

_ ffl .,...........,_.. .. .w'" .- v ‘n w. A---~- a..- ..

New York 

 

 

vol. I.

 

.A;,_;_..:_I;.,;Z .4 :_:. , .. .

 

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE following day was that eventful one which should
witness the return of either Edward Egan Esq., or the
Honorable Sackville Scatterbrain, as member for the
count . There was no doubt in any reasonable man‘s
mind {Is to the real majority of E an, but the numbers
were sufficiently close to give 1 e sherifl an oppor
tunit of doing a bit of business to oblige his friends,
and hereforo he declared the Honorable Sackv111e
Scatterbrain duly elected. Great was the uproar; the

eople hissed and booted, and groaned, for which the
Honorable duck ville very good naturedly returned
them his thanks. Murlphy snapped his fingers in the
slierifi’s face, and told iiin his honorable friend should
not lon remain member, for that he must be unseated
no petition, and that he would prove the return most
corrupt with which words he again snapped his fingers
in the s ei'ii‘f’s face. I

The sheriff threatened to read the riot act if such
conduct was rfipeated. _

Egan too 0 his hat, and thanked him for his honor-
able, uprz'g if, and impartial conduct, whereupon all
Egan’s friends too off their hats also, and made pro-
found bows to the unctionary, and then had hed most
uproariously. Counter laughs.were returne from the
opposite party, who beg ed to remind the Eganites
o the old saying, “that t ey might laugh who Win.”
A cross-fire of sarcasms was ept u amidst the two
parties as the were cru‘ forwa _out of the court-

ouse; and a the door, before entering his carriage,
Scatterbrain verypolitely addressed Egan and trusted
that, though they had met as rivals on the hustin s,
the nevertheless parted friends, and expressingte
higtest respect for the squire, offered his hand in
ami y. ,

E an, equally good-heatred as his opponent, shook
his and cordially; declarin he attributed to him none
of theblame which attached other fiel‘SOIlS. “ Besides,
my dear sir,” said Egan laughing, .Should be 3. ve
ill-natured erson to grudge you so small an indu-
geuce as being a member of parliament for a month
or so.” ‘

Scatterbrain returned the laugh, good-humoredly,
and replied that, “ at all events, he ha the seat."

“Yes my dear sir,” said Egan, “ and make the most
of it witile you have it. III-short, I shall owe you an
obligation when I go over to St. Ste hen’s for you Will
have just aired my seat for me—goo -by.” '

They parted with smiles, and drove to their res ec-
tive homes; but as even doubtful possessmn is pr fer-
able to e§pectation for the time being, it is certain that
Neck-or- othin Hall rung with more merriment that
night on the rea 'ty of the present, than Merryvale did
on the hope of the future.

EvenOGradly, as he lay with hiswounded arm n
the sofa, foun more healing in the triumph of the ho r
than from all the medicaments of theforegoing week,
and insisted on going downstairs and Joining the party

at $11 per. . 3
dear," said his wife, “you know the doctor

“ usty
‘d_9$
” Hang the doctor!"

“Your arm, m love."

“I wish you’ leave off pityling my arm, and have
some compassionpn my stomac .’

“ The doctor said——‘1

“ There are oysters in the house; I’ll do in self more

ood b the use of an oyster-knife than all he lancets
En the ollege of Surgeons."

“ But your wound, dear i” _

“ Are they Carlingfords or Poldoodies?”

“ So fresh, love. ”

“So much the better.”

“ Your wound 1 mean, dear.”

“Nicely opened.”

“ Onl dressed an hour ago?"
“Wi some mustard, pa per, and vinegar."
“ Indeed, Gfisty, if you ta 3 in advice—" .

“ I‘d rather have oysters any .” I

O'Grady sat up on the sofa. as he spoke and requested
his wife to schno more about the matter. but put on
his cravat. ile she was getting it from his ward-
robe, his mind wandered from supper to the pension,
which he looked upon as secure now that Scatterbrain
was returned; and oyster-banks ave place to the
of Ireland which rose in a. p easmg image before
O‘Grady’s ma ination. The Wife now returned With
the cravat, s ‘ dread the result of eating to her
husband, and her min occupied wholly with the
thought of supper, while O’Grady was wrapt in visions
of a ension. ” . _

“ ou won't take it, Gusty, dear, said his Wife,
with all the lnsinuation of manner she could command.

“Won't I, faith?” said O’Grady. Maybe you think
“Prime”. .1 u

‘ n e on car.

“Are you mad woman? Is it taking leave of the few
senses you ever had you are?“

“ ’T won‘t ree with you." ' "

“Won’t it? ust wait till I'm tried.

1 “gall, love,. how much do you expect to be n.1-
ow ?

“Why I can’t c act much just yet—we must begin
gently—feel the pge first; but I sheuld hope, by way
of start, that six or seven hundred— . . .

“ Gracious Heaven 1” exclaimed his Wife, dropping
the cravat from her hand. _ _

“What the devil is the woman shouting at?“ said
O’Grad .

“Sixyor seven hundredi l i” exclaimed Mrs. O’Grady;
“ m dear, there‘s not as much in the house."

“ 0, nor has not been for man a long  I know
that as well as you,” said O’Gra y; but hope We
shall at as much for all the. ." n ‘

“ y dear, where could wenget them? asked'the
witl'le, timidly, who began to thi his head was a httle

t.

“From thetreasu tobesure.” » _ '
“The treasu in“; dear?" said the mic. still at
fault; “ how em? you get oysters from the treasury?"
d 11 th ti ' f ' ing Paradise through a

1‘0 — one 0110 aman ain

mistake. Our intentions tog seldom  us there, but
rather tend the other way, for a. certain lags is said to
be paved with“ good” ones and surey bad ones
would not lgad us upward. enhiihe phrgglgeof‘a man
1 t e atesotHeavenin s own ‘ , 180116
of thggeuv‘rlld pgetic of speech in which the Irish
peasantry often indifige. The phrase “ slapping the
cor” is eve -daya.n common; but when apphed to
“ the'gabes 0 Gavan." and “ in a. man’s own face," the
common garage becomes fine. But how often the com-
monest t ' gs become poetry by the fitness of their
application, though poetasters and people of small

minds think greatness of thought lies in big words.

i

 

“Oystersi” exclaimed O‘Grady, whose turn it was
now to wonder, “who talks of oysters?” -

. “My dear, I thought you said you‘d eat six or seven
hundred of oysters l" '

“Poohipoohi woman; it is of the pension I‘m tallo
ing—six or seven hundred ounds—pounds—cash— er
annum; now I so pose you put on my cravat. I think
a. man may be a owed to eat his supper who expects
SIX hundred a year.” . ~

A great many people beSides O‘Grady order suppers,
and inners, too, on the expectation of less than six
hundred a year. Perhaps there is no more active agent
for sending people into the Insolvent Court than th-
aforesaid ‘ expectation.”

O'Grady went down—stairs, and was heartily wel-

comed by Scatterbrain on his reappearance from his

sick-room; but Mrs. O’Grady sug ested, that, for fear
and excess would send him bac there for a longer
time, a. ver moderate indulgence at the table should
suffice. S e begged the honorable member to back her
argument, whic he did; and O‘Grady promised tem—
perance, but begged the immediate appearance of the
oysters, for he experienced that eager desire which
geligate health so often prompts for some particular
00 .

Andy was In. ing the table at the time, and was or-
dered to ex e ite matters as muchfis possible.

“Yis, ma am.”

“ You’re sure the oysters are all good, Andy i"

“ Sartin, ma’am."

“ Because the last oysters ou know——"

“ 0h, 'yis, ina’ uni—were ad, ma’am—bekase they
had their mouths all open. I remember, nia’am; but
when I’m tovyld a thing once, I never forget it again:
and you towl me when they opened their mouths once
they were no good. So you see, ma’am, I’ll never
brin up bad oysthers again, ma’am.”

“ cry good, Andy; and you have kept them in a
cool lace, I hope."

“ aix they re cowld enough where‘l put them,
ma’am."

“ Very well; bring them up at once.”

Off went Andy, and returned with all the haste he
could with a large dish hea ed up with oysters.

O’Grady rubbid his ban 5 with the impatience of a.
true lover of t e crustaceous delicacy, and Scatter-
brain, eager to help him, flourished his oyster-knife;
but before he had time to commence operations the
olfactory nerves of the company gave evidence that
the oysters were rather suspicious: eVery one began
imitating, and a universal “ dearl” ran round the

a 6.

“Don’t you smell it, Furlong?" said Scatterbrain,
who was so lost in looking at Augusta's mustaches that
he did not mind anythin else.

“ Isn’t it horrid?‘ said ’Grady, with a look of disgust.

Furlong thought he alluded to the mustache,, and
repliednwlth an assurance that he “liked it of all

“ ‘ke it?” said O‘Grady; “you’ve a.
What do you think of it, miss?” added he
“it’s ust under our nose." ,
f {Air ong thpug t this rather personal, even from a
a er.

“I’ll try my knife on one,” said Scatterbrain, with a
flourish of the oyster-knife, which Furlong thought re-
sembled the pre 'minary trial of a barber‘s razor.

Furlong thou ht this worse than O’Grad ;but he
Eesitaited to rep y to his chief, and an honora into the

arga n.

In the meantime, Scatterbrain opened an oyster,
which Furlong, in his embarrassment and annoyance,
did not perceive.

“ Cut 05 the board,” said O’Grady, “I don't like it.“

This nearly made Furlong s eak, but, considering
O’Grady’s temper and ill-healt , he hesitated, till he
saw Au usta rubbing her eye in consequence of a
small 3 nter of the oyster-shell havinglslguck it from
Scatter raln’s mismanagement of his ' 6; but Fur-
long thought she was crying, and then he could be si-
lent no longer; he went over to where she sat, and with
every affectionate demonstration in his action. said,
“Never mind them, dear Gussy—never mind—don‘t
cwy—I ovc her dear little moustaches, I do." ‘He
gave a. gentle pat on the back of the neck as he spike,
and it was returned by an uncommonl smart box on
the car from the youn lady, and e whole party
looked thundersti'uck. ‘ Dear Gussy ” cried for gite,
Ed] stamped her way out of the room, follow by

r ong. '

“Let them go," said O'G-rady; “they‘ll make it up
outside.

“ These 0 sters are all bad,” said Scatterbrain.

O’Grady egan to swear at his disa mtment—he
had set his heart on oysters. Mrs. 0‘ radyrung the
bell—Andy appeared.

“ How dare you bring up such oysters as these?"
roared O’Grady.

“ The misthris ordhered them sir."

“I told on never to bring up  0 Stem.” film 8116.

“Themz notl'bad, ma’am,” said Andy

“ Have you a. nose?“ says O’Grady.

“Yes Sir.“

“ An can‘t you smell them. theni’,’ ‘

“ Faix,\I smelt them for the last three days, six .”

“And how could you say they were good, men?”
asked his mistress; ,

“Sure you told me, ma’am, that if they didn’t open
their months they were good, and I‘ll be on my book
oath them oysters never opened their mouths since I
had them for I laid them on a cool flag in the kitchen
and put the Jack-weight over them.”

Notwithstanding O’Grady's rage, Scatterbrain could
not help roaring With laughter at Andy’s novel contriv-
ance for keeping oysters fresh. Andy was desired to
take the “ ancient and fish-like smell’ out of nmom.
amidst eers and abuse; and, as he fumbled ' .Way to
the kitc en in the dark, lame ting the beam. ‘of ser-
vants, who can-never ive so. sfaction, thong they do
eve they are bi , he went head over he idown-
Stan‘s. which event was re orted to the whole house as
soon anit ha pened, by {he enormous clutter of the
broken dish, t e oysters, and Andy, as they all rolled
one over the other to the bottom.

O’Grady, havi missed the cool supper he intended,
and had longed or, was put into a rage by the disap
y waspnly to be

ueer taste.
Augusta,

pointment: and as hunger with O’Grad
ap ased b broiled bones, accordingly, against all the
en eavors o everybody, the bells run violently through
the house, and the ogre-like cry of “ roiled bones!” re~
sounded high and low. .

The reaer is sufficiently well acquainted with O'Gra- '
dy by this tinie to know that of course, when once he
had etermined‘to have broiled bone, nothing ontho
face of ,the earth could prevent it but the man of an]-

\ l i

 

l
thing to broil, or the imuu dinie want of his teeth; and ,
\us his iiiasticators were. in order, and soon-thing" lll the,
house which could carry mustard and pepper, the iii-
valid primed and loaded himself with as much combus-
tible inatt . .xploili-d in a fever the next da . .

't‘lie :iiippl-iupiirly, however, in the hope, o getting
him to bed, separated soon“, and as Scatterbriuii and
tilllfilillg, wore to start early in the iiioriiilc,r tor [)Ilid‘lll,
the iii-cessi’iyoi' their retiring to rest was pleaded. ’l he,
honorable member had not been long in his room when
hr- hritrd a tap at his door, and his order to “ come. in "
\.’.t:~; follvm'ed by the, appearance ol.’ Handy Andy.

“ i found sonictliiii‘ on the road nigh the town iii—day,
-:ii', :inl I thought it might be yours, iiiuyno. Sillti ‘
:.m!y, pl'Odllt‘il‘” ‘t small poei' ft-lJt)0k~ _

'l‘li:- honoriib member dis. vowed the 0\Vll"I‘SIllD.

“ Well, there‘s somctlihig olsc [want to speak to your
honor about."

“ What is it, Handy?"

“ l .vant your honor to see the account of llio money
\ our honor gave, me that I spint at a SILobreIrk upon the
~icctiiors that couldn’t be accommodated at Mrs.

   

’2
r

 

     

I,” .Mn

‘IVOh! never mind it, Andy; if there's anything over,
"ee ) it yourself.“

“ll‘liank your honor, but I must make. the. account
all the same, if you plum, for l'm going to Father
i;l.ikc, to m dllty,‘i’ soon, and I must have. my con-

»icnce as cear as I can, and i wouldn‘t like to be
i -e ii. 1;; money back.“

" lot if I give you the iiioiioy, what matter?"

“l‘d rather ou’d just kick over this little bitof a
'cniiiil, if you‘ll) aze,“ said Andy, producing a dirty piece
of paper, wit some nearly inscrutable hieroglypliics
ll ion it.

Iiicii.tterbrain commenced an examination of this liter-
ary phenomenon l‘i'om sheer curiosity, asking Andy at
the same time if lie wrote it.

“ Yis.sii'y,‘ said Andy; " but you seetlie maiicouidn‘t
keep the ’itouiit ot' the. pipei"s dlirink at all, it was so
confusin’, and so 1 was obliged to pay him for tililh‘
every time the piper dllriiiik, and kec i it separate, and l
the ‘ccthors that got their dinner a tlici‘_the bill was
made out I put d0\\'ll' myself too, and that s it you see,
sir, both hang and dliriukiu’.“

To Dhrinkln A bilnl) piper evcrry day
wan and in Pciis six dais . . . U lb 6
To ateln tour 'l‘lii Illlktbiu's And: i is ii
Tliare horses on Cliewsdai . . U

 

. 2 it! 4
. 7 W 81-2
10 is 121-2 t
“Then I owe you money, instead of your haviiiga
balance in hand, Andy," said the member.
“ Oh, no matter,, your honor; it s not for that I showed
account.
yQilltilsevery like it though," said Scatterbrain, laugh-
ing; “ here, Andy. ere are a couple of pounds for you,
take them, Andy—take, it ltllllliiu oil; your bill is worth
the money.” and Scatterbrain closed the door on the
great accountant. ‘ .
Andy next \vent to Purlong’s room, to know if the,
pocket-hook belonged to him; it did not, but Furlong
lhough he disclaiincd the ownership, had that small
curiosity which prompts little minds to pry into what
does not belong to them, and taking the pocket-book
into his hands, he Opened it, and funibed over its
leaves; in the doing of which a small piece of folded
inner fell from one of the pockets unnoticed by tho
inpcrtiiient iiu iiisitor or Andy, to whom he returned
the book when he had gratified his senseless curiosity.
Andy withdrew, Furlong retired to rest; and us it
. was in the gray of an autumnal morning be dressed
uimself, the paper still remained unobserved; so that
the houseinaid on setting the room to rights, found it,
and thawing Miss Augusta was the proper person to
confide M1; Furioug‘g stray pa itch“! to, she handed that
young lady the manuscript \v icli bore the follownig
copy of Versus:
I (IAN NE’IL‘IZ FOIH/IWI’ TIIIM‘.

I.
It is the chime, the hour draws near
\Vhon you and I must sevcr;
Alas, it must be many a year,
And it may be for over!
How long till we shall meet againi
How short since first I met thecl
How brief the bliss—how long the pain—
For I can ne'ort’orget thee.

Toe til . . .
Lan lord Bil for All Be four

II.

You said my heart was cold and stem;
You doubted love when strongest;

In future days you‘ll live to learn
Proud hearts can love the longest.

Ohl sometimes think, when press‘d to hear
When flippaut tongues beset thee,

That all must love thee, when thou rt near
But one will ne’er forget thee.

III.

The cliangeful sand doth only know
The shallow tide and latest;

The rocks have inark’d its highest flow,
The deepest and the greatest.

And deeper still the ilood~iiiarks grow—
So, since the hour I met thee, '

The more the tide of time doth flow,

. The loss can I forget thee.

When Augusta saw the lines, she was charmed. .She
discovered her Furlong to be a poet. That the lines
were his there was do doubt—they were found in [my
room. and of course they mus! be his, just as partial
critics sa certain Irish airs must be English. because
they are 0 be found in Queen Elizabeth‘s music-book.

Augusta was so charmed with the lines that she
amused herself fora long time in hiding them under
the sofa-cushion and making her pet dog find and fetch
them. Her pleasure, however, was intermpted b her
sister Charlotte remarking, when the lines were own
to ner in triumph, that the writing was not Furlong's,
but in a lady‘s hand.

Even as beer is suddenly scared by the thunder, so
the electric influence of Charlotte’s words convened
all Augusta had been brewin to acidit ; jealousy
stung her like a. wasp, and she xed her og‘s ears as
he was barking for another run with the yerses.

“ A lady‘s hand?" said A data, snatching the paper
from her sister: “ I declare it ainti the. wretch—so he
receives lines from ladies." . _

“ I think 1 know the hand too," said Charlotte.

 

‘ - Low public-house 1 Com

»

, when once theopeut-up bitterness
. me blackn

Handy Andy. I

“ You do?” melaiinuai Augusta, with flashing eyes.

“ Yes; l‘in certain it is Faun Dawson‘s writing."

“ So it: is," said Augusta, loo 'iiig at the paper as if
her eyes could have burnt it; “to be sure—lie was
there before he came here.”

“ Only for two days ‘ said Charlotte, trying to slake
the, ilomeslie ililli rm. i .

“ lint [‘ve ili‘fll‘ti th. t girl always mach eonquestsat
first sight,“ returned Augusta, hull' crying; “ and what
do I see, here? some words in pencil.”

The words were so limit as to besnarccly perceptible,
but Augusta (lei-iphi-reil them; they wero written on
the margin, besil e a (Eil’llllllilix which embraced the
last four lines of the second verse, o that it stood thus:
0h! soiiiotiiiu-s ihiiik, when press‘l~ to hear, ] Dearest, I

When ilippiint‘ tongues besrt lliec, will.
’l'liiitfl/l must love thee, when tliou‘rt near,

But one will iii-‘ei' i'OI‘Kt'lI thee!

“ Will you, indeed?“ said Augusta, crushing the
paper in her hand, and biting it; “ but I must not
destroy it's—I must keep it to prove his treachery to his
face.“ She threw herself on the soil). as she spoke,
and gave vent to an outpour oi‘ spiteful tears.

CHAPTER XXVII.

How many chapters have been written about love
verses~and how many more might be written—might
would, could, should, or'ought to be written-«I will
venture to say, will be written. I have a mind to fultil
my own prophecy and write. one myself; but no—hiy
story must go on. Ilowcver. I will say. that it is quite
curious in how many ways lhe some little bit of paper
mayiiiiineiicedili'ci'eiit people; the poem whose literary
merit may be small becomes precious when some valued
hand has transcribed the hues; and the verses whose
measure and meaning viewed in type might win favor
and yield pleasure shoot poison from their very sweet-
ncss when read in some particular hand and under par-
ticular circumstances. It was so with the copy of
verses Augusta had just i'cad~tlu.‘y were Funny Daw—
son‘s iiiiiiiiisl:i'ipt~tliat was certain, and found in the
room of Augustu‘s lover; therefore Augusta was
wretched. But these same line." had given exquisite.
pleasure to number person, who Wei); now nearly as
miserable as Augusta in having lost them. It is ossi-
bie. the reader guesses that person to be Edward 0 (ion-
nor, for it was he who had lost the pocketbook in
which those (to him) precious lines were, contained; and
if the little case had held all the bank-notes he ever
owned in his life their loss would have been regarded
less than that bit of iiianuscri t, which had often
yielded him the most exquisite p ensure, and was now
inilictiiig on Augusta the bittei'cst anguish.

To make this intelligible to the render it is necessary
to explain under what circumstances the lines were
written. .\t_oiic tiuic, Edward, doubting the likeli-
hood of making iii W at home, was about to go to
India and push li‘ ortuiics there; and at that period
those lines, breathing of fai‘ewcllaimplying the dread
of rivals diii'iiii,r absence-wand imploriug remembrance
of his eternal lore, \Vt-‘l‘l‘ written and given to Faun ;
and she, with that delicacy of contrivanee so iciiii-
arly a woman’s, hit upon tho ex )edient of cop iig his
own verses and sending them to hn in her writing, as
an indication that the s iirit of the lines was her own.

But Edward saw that iis father, who was advanced
in years, looked u on a separation from his son as an
eternal one. and tie thought gave so much pain that
Edward gave, u the idea of expatriation. Shortly
aft er, however, t ie misunderstanding with Major Daw-
son took place and Funny and Edward were as much
severed as if r \velli ' in diflerent zones. Under such
circuiiisiances those ines were peculiarly .recious. and
many a kiss had Edward impressed upon Bieni, though
Augusta thought them litter for the exercise of her
teeth than her lips. In fact, Edward did little. else than
think of Funny; and it is possible his passion might
have degenerated into more love-sickness. and en-
feelilcd him, had not his desire of proving himself
worthy oi” his iiiisiress spurred him to exertion in the
hope of future distinction. But still the tone of tender
lament pervaded all his poems, and the. same pocket-
book wlieiicc the verses which caused so much commo—
tion t‘cll contained the following also, showing how en-
tirely Fanny possessed his heart and occupied his
thoughts: -

WHEN THE SUNISIIVKS T0 REST.

When the sun sinks to rest,
And the star of the west
Sheds its soft silver light o‘er the sea:
What sweet thoughtsariso, .
As the dim twilight dies-
For then I am thinking of thee!
Olil then crowding fast
Come the Joys of the past,
Through the diiiiuoss of days long gone by,
Likeithostars peeping out,
Through the darkness inoiit,
From the soft silent depth of the sky.

    

 
  

1:.

And thus, as the night
Grows more lovely and bright .

With the ciust’ring of planet and star,
So this darkness of iiiinc
Wins a radiance divnie _ .

From the light th at still lingers afar.
Then welcome the pig] ,
With its soft holy light! a

In its silence my heart is more free
The rude world‘to forgot,
Where no pleasure I‘ve met

Since the hour that I parted from thee.

But we must leave love verses, and ask pardon for the
few remarks which the subject tempted, and pursue,
our story. , ‘

The first prompting of Augustus anger, when she
had recovered her burst of asSion, was to write “ .mch
atelier" to Furlo —and s espcnt half a (Illyat the
work; but she coul not please herself—she tore twenty
at least, and determined at last not to write at all, but
just wait till he returned and Overwhelni him with re-
pmhes, But, thou n she could not compose a. letter,
she composed herse by the endeavor, which acted as
a sort of safety-valve to let ofl the superabundant
steam‘ and it is wonderful how general is this result
of silt ug down to write angry letters: people vent
themselvefi 0f_ the” SD19?“ 0n the iinconiplaiuin ’
paper which Silently receives words a listener would
not. itli a pen for Our second, desperate satisfac-
tion is obtained With only an effusion of iiitkinagfi

has zed
ass that fluid—moat apprgatelyoumade of

,

 

cg.
E.)

the best gallsmthe time so spent, and the “letting of
words,“ if i may use tho phraso, has cooled our ju '-
ment and our passions together; and the first letter is
torn: ’tis too severe; we write. a second; we blot and
interline till it is nearly illegible; we begin a third; till
at last we am tired outwith our own angry feelings,
and throw our scribbling by with a “ l’shawl what‘s tho
use of it?" or, “It's not worth my notice;" or, still
better arrch at the conclusion, that we preserve our
own dignit. ' bth by writing with temper, though Wl'
may be cal ed upon to bc severe.

Furlong at this time. was on his road to Dublin in
happy unconsciousness ol' Augusta's rago against him
and planning what pretty little present he should send
her specially, for his head was naturally running on
such matters, as he had (uantities of cmiimissions to
execute in the milliiicry inc [’or Mrs. (.)‘(li'iidy, who
thought it high time to be getting up Augiista's wed-

ding-dresses, and Andy was to be llcsi‘iatclied the ,,
following day to Dublin, to take charge of non “o of

bandboxes back from the city to blocker-Nothing lull.
Furlong had received a thousand charges from the
ladies “to be sure to lose no time ” in doing his devoir
in their behalf, and be obeyed so strictly. and was so
active in laying iiiilliiiers and iiicrcci‘s under contribu-
tions, that Andy was enabled to start tho day after his
arrival, sorely against Andy’s will, for he would gladly
have remained amidst the beauty and grandeur and
wonders of Dublin, which struck him dumb for the day
he was amongst them, but gave him food for conversa-
tion for many a day after. Furlong, after racking his
invention about the souvenir to his “dear Gunny,” at
length fiXed on a fan, as the most suitable ‘ft: for
(lussy had been (uizzcd at home about “bushing,”
and all that sort 0 thin r, and tho puerile perceptions
of the attache saw somet one very smart in sending her
wliercwith “to hide her blushes.“ Then the fan was
the vei pink of fans; it had quivers and arrows upon
it, and anchors of hearts looped up in azure festooiis,
and doves perched upon them; though Augusta’s little
sister, who was too young to know what hearts and
doch were, when she saw them for the first time, said
they were pretty little birds picking at a iplcs. The fan
was packed up in a nice case, and tien on scented
note paper did the dear dandy iiidite a bit of numb '-
pamby bailiiiage to his fair one, which he thought
excessively eleven——

“DEAR. DUCKY DARLINoz—Yon know how naughty they
are in quizzlii you about alittlc something, I won‘t any
what you wi guess, I dare say—but I send you a little
tovJ mm'! ya what, on which Cu id Illi'llt wrlie this
label after the actor‘s fashion, ‘To 39 used‘ occasionally,
when the patient is much troubled with the symptoms.’

“Ever. ever, ever yours.

“ P.S.—'l‘ake care how you open it." “ J. 1".”

Such was the note that Handy Andy was given, with
particular injunctions to deliver it the first tliing'mi his

arrival at the Hall to Miss Au rusta, and to be sure to ‘

take most articular care of t 6 little case; all which
Andy fait ifully promised to do. But Andy's usual
destiii prevaled, and an unfortunate exchange of
parcc s quite upset all Furlong‘s sweet little plan of his
pretty resent and his ingenious note: fa as And was
Just ta 'ing his departure, Furloii said he inig t as
well leave something for him at ade‘i-i the cullcr
as he passed through College Green, and he handed

him a case of razors which wanted setting, which Andy ‘

popped into his pocket, and as the fan case and that of
be razors were much of a. size, and both folded up,
Andy [left the fan at the cutie-is and took the case or
razors by wa of present ‘to Au 'usta. Fancy the rage
of a young tidy with .a very iie iulr of monster/tine
getting such a souvenir from her over, with a note,
too, every word of which a plied ti t beard and a razor,
as pat] as to a blush an a t‘aii~uud tliis,-too, when
her je ous was aroused and his fidelity more than
doubtful in er estimation.

Great was the row in Neck-or-Nothliig Hall; and
when, after three days, Furlong came down, the. nature
of his recegtion may be. betteriin 'ined than described.
It was a ifflcult matter, tlirou the storm which
raged around him, to explain a the clrcumStmici-s
satisfactorily but, by dint of hard work, the verses
were at length disclaimed the razors disavowed, and
Andy at last sent for to “ c ear matters up.”

Andy was a hopeful subject for such a piirpos e, and
by his blundering answers nearly set them all by the
ears again; the upshot of the affair was, that Andy,
usud as he was to good coldings, never had such a
torrent of abuse poured on him in his life, and the
affair ended in Andy being dismissed from Neck-ur-
Nothlng Hall on the instant; so he relinquished his

easy livery) for his own r again, and trudged
iomcwards his mother’s cam.
u the ll be as mad as a batter with me," said Andy;

bad luck to them for razlilrs they cut me out o‘ my
place-i but I often heard cowid steel is unlucky, and
sure know it now. Olii but I'm always unfort naic
in having cruked messages. Well, it can‘t be liel ied:
and one good thing at all events 13,?" have lino
enough now to go and spake to Father Blake'" and
with this sorry piece of satisfaction poor Andy cou-
teiitod himself.

 

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Trim Father Blake, of whom Andy spoke was more
familiarly known by the name of Father Phil, b which
title Andy himself would have named him, find e been
tclll how Father Phil cleared a fair, or equally
“lent cred " both the belligerent parties in a faction;

fight, or turned out the contents (or malcoulents) of a ’

pubhc-house at an impro er hour; but when he spoke
of his Revei-ence respec lng ghostly matters, the.lm-
ace of the subject beget iigher consideration for
e man, and the familiar Father Phil " was droppiid
for the more res ectful title of Father Blake. B
either title, or in w atever capacity, the worthy Father
had great influence over his parish, and there was
a “Randal,” way With him, even in doing the most
solemn duties, which a reed wonderfully with the
devil-inay-care spirit of
niality in any we. is repugna it to the very nature of
Irishmen' and I have one o the surest ways of con—
verting‘ all Ireland from the Romish faith would be
found if we could only manage to hav’e her mass cele-
brated with the dry coldness of the Reformation: This
dject, but yet there
and to com er it for amomont

may seem ridiculous at first sightband I grant it is a

otes no way of Vierl r th
Spy bg’trutb in it‘ “a e an
89 0

ugly, look at the fact, that the north of Irelan is f

the stron hold of l’rotestantism, and that e no in
the least risli rtiou of the island. Their s a strong
admixture of teh there and all who know the coun-

try will admit that there ii an niuch
between men from the non-ti):ea south of ‘93:?“
from Maren! countries. The Northern: Ruin 

4

addy. Stiff and starcbed for-I

 

 

 

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._._.._..._n,_m«_‘_._.c - _,M

 

....,.... .

unx M. .

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«HEW-An mi.

I . mum”: . ma

 

34.

LA. ,

 

, The, New

. ' ' l
of the cold formality and unbcnding hardness of the 1 against you every Sunday, which is condemning you

stranger-settlers from whom they are descended, while
the Southeriis exhibit that warm-hearted, lively, allld
is ce e-
The prevailing national characteristics of Ire-
land are not to be found in the north, where Protest-

oetical temperament for which the count
rated.

l before your faces, and behind your backs too, for don’t

I see this ininlt a shame 0’ wather that might turn a

mill running down Micky Mackavoy’s back, between
the collar of his coat and his shirt?”

i Here a laugh ensued at the expense of Micky Mack-

 

antism flourishes; they are to be found in the south 1 avoy, who certain! was under a' very heavy drip from
and west, where it has never taken root. And though i the imperfect roo .

it- has never seemed to strike theologians, that in their

‘,‘..And is it laughing you are, you haythcns?" said

very natures some people are more adapted to receive Father Phil, reproving the merriment which he him-

onc faith than another, yet I believe it to be true 1:ind
ere

perhaps not quite unworthy ofconsideration.
are forms, it is true, and many in the Roinish church,

but they are not cold forms, but attractive rather, to a

\sensitive people‘ besides, I believe those very forms,

l self had

‘ .t urposely created, that he might we more
. a .

“Laugiiug is it you are—at your backsli 'ngs

: and insensibility to the honor of God—laughing, be-

cause when you come here to be saved you are lost

lintirely with the wet; and how, I ask you, are my

when observed t. cleast formall , are the most influen- 1 words of comfort to enter your hearts, when the

tial on the Irish; and perba is t 10 splendors of a  l
1

Mass in the gorgeous temp e of the Holy City wo

a peal less to the afl'ections of an Irish peasant than
tlIi)e service he witnesses in some half-thatched ruin by
a. lone hill‘sidc, familiarly hurried through by a priest
who has sharpened his appetite by a mountain ride of

some flftceii miles, and is saying mass (for the third J your hearts to powdhcr with his heavy words.”

rain is pouring down your backs at tiie same time?
Sure I have no chance of turning your hearts while
you are unth rain that might turn a mill—but
once put a good roof on the house, and Iwill inun-
date you With piety! Maybe its Father Dominick you
woul like to have coming among you, who would rind
ere

time most likely) before breakfast, which consumma- v a low murmur of dissent ran t rough the thron .)

tion of his morning’s exercise he is anxious to arrive at.
It was just in such a chapel, and under such circum-
stances, that Father Blake was celebrating the mass at

“Hal hal so you wouldn’t like it, Isee. -Very we 1,

, very well—take care, then; for if I find you insensible
,‘ to my moderate reproofs, you hard-hearted haythens—

which Andy was present, and after which he hoped to , you malefacthors and cruel persecutors. that won’t
obtain a word of advice from the worthy Father, who l put your hands in your pockets, because your mild

was much more sought after on such occasions than
his more sedate superior who (presided over the spir-
itual welfare of the parish—an whose solemn celebra—
tion of the mass was b no means so a reeable as the
lighter service of Fat icr Phil. The ev. Dominick
Dowhng was austere and long-winded; his mass had
an o pressive effect on his congregation, and from the
:nee in multitude might be seen e es fearftu look-
ing up rom inidcr bent brows; and ow broathin s and
subdued groans often rose above the silence of 1115 con-
gregation, who felt like sinners, and whose imagina-
tions were filled with the thoughts of Heaven’s anger'
while the good-humored face of the light-hearted
Father Phil produced a corresponding bri htness on
the looks of his hearers, who turned up t eir whole
faces in trustfulness to the mercy of that Heaven
whose propitiato oifcring their pastor was making
for them in cheer ul tones, which associated well with
thoughts of pardon and salvation.

Father Dominick poured forth his s iritual influence
like a strong dark stream that swept own the hearer—
liopelessl struggling to keep his head above the tor-
rent an drea inc to be overwhelmed at the next
wor . Father Phil 5 religion bubbled out hke a moun-
tain rilI——bri~ht musical, and refreshi Father Dom-
inick's e0 0 had decidedl need 0 cork Jackets;
Father hii s might drink an be refreshed.

But with all this intrinsic worth, .119 was, at the same
time, a strange man in exterior manners; for, with an
abundance of real piety, he had an abruptness of de-
livery and a strange way of mixing u an occasional
remark to his congregation in the m dst of the cele-
bration of the mass, which might well startle. a
stranger; but this very want of formahty made him
beloved by the poo 19, and they would do 'ten tunes as
nuch for Father P i1 as for Father Dominick.

On the Sunday in question, when Andy attended the
aha e1, Father Phil intended delivering an addi'css'to
his ock from the altar, urging them to the neces31t
of bestirring themselves in the repairs of the chape ,
which was in a ver dila idated condition, and at one
and let in the rain t oug its worn-out thatch. «A sub-
scription was necessary; and to raise this amo a
very impoverished people was no easy matter. he
weather hap ned to be. unfavorable, which was most
favorable to other Phil‘s purpose for the rain drop-
ped its ar uments through the mo upon the kneeling

eople be ow in the most convincing manner; and as

ey endeavored to get out of the wet, the pressed
round the altar as much as they could, for w lch they
were reprovod very smartly by his Reverence in the
very midst of the mass, and these interruptions oc-
curred sometimes ln the most serious places, ro-
ducing a ludicrous effect of which the worthy Fa her
was uite unconscious in great anxiety to make the
peop e repair the cha el. ‘ '

A big woman was 6 bowm her way toward the rails
of the altar, and Father P ‘ casting a sidelong glance
at ‘her, sent her to the right-abou , while he inter-

rupted his up 9.1 to Heaven to address her thus:

Agmu D —you’d better jum over the rails of the

althar, I think. Go along out 0’ but, there’s plenty o’
' room in the chapel below there." '

Then he would turn to the altar and proceed with the
service, till turning again to the congregation he per-
ceived some fresh offender.

" Orate fratrei.’—-w111 you mind what I say to you and

0 along out 0’ that? there‘s room below there. Thrue

or you, Mrs. Finn—it’s a shame for him to be thramp-

liu’ on on. Go along, Dart) Casy, down there, and
kneel the rain; it‘s a pi v you haven’t a. dacent
woman‘s cloak undher you indeed I— Orate fratree “

Then would the service proceed again, and while he

rayed in silence at the altar, the shuffling of feet edg.
iii; out of the rain would disturb inm,a.nd casting a.
backward glance, he would say: _

“Ihear you there—can’t you be quiet and not be dis-
turbin‘ the mass, you haythens?’ _

Again he proceeded in Silence, till the crying of a,
child interrupted him. He looked round moldy.

“You’d better kill the child, I think ampnn‘ on
him, Lavery. Go out o‘ that—your conduct is scandal-
ous—Damian: vobiscum." ,

ain he turned to pray, and after some tuna he
in e an interval in the service to address his congre-
gation on the subject of the re airs. and produced a
paper containin the names of an scribers to that pious
work who had a ready contributed, by way 0f example
to those who had not. '

“Here it is," said Father Phil “here it isband no
Idenying it—down in black and white; but if t ey who
give are down in black, how much blaCker are those
who have not given éat sill—but I hope theyWill be
ashamed of themselv s when howld up those to honor
who have contributed to the phowldi of the house
of God. And isn’t it ashamed o’ yourse ves on ought
to be, to leave His house in such a con ition
doesn‘t it rain a’most every Sunday, as if He Wished to
remind you of your dut ? aren’t you wet to the skin
a‘most every Sunday? 11. God is good to on! to ut

ou in mind of your duty. ginngyou such bi ther cow ds

1'. ouarecong an ’gsvngun 5*
that egree that you can’t hear the bi mass for a,
comfort, and a. benefit to you; and sodouln go on
on e ,

‘ ' ' ut a good thatch place an
mnfitgmme of the evidence from Heaven

 

and quiet oor fool of a pastlior has no tongue in
his head 2— say your mild, quiet, poor 001 of a pasthor
(for I know my own faults partly, God orgivo me i) and
Icaii’t spake to you as you deserve, you hard-living
vagabonds, that are as insensible te your duties as you
are to the weather. I wish it wass or or salt you
were made of, and then the rain migit melt you ifI
couldn’t; but no—them naked rafters rin in your face
to no purpose—you chate the house 0 God; but take
care, maybe you won’t chats the divil so aisy"—(here
there was a. sensation. “Hal hal that makes you
open your ears, does it? More shame for you; you
ought to despise that dirty enemy of man, and depend
on something betther—but I see I must call you to a
sense of your situation with the bottomless it undher
you, and no roof over you. Oh, dearl dearl earl—I’m
ashamed of you—troth, if I had time and straw enough,
I‘d rather thatch the place myself than lose In time
talking to you; sure the lace is more like a stab 6 than
a. chapel. Oh, think of atl—the house of God to be
like a stable l—for thou h our Redeemer, in his humil-
ity, was born in a ’stab e, that is no reason why you
are to keep his house always like one.
_ “ .And now I will read you the list of subscribers and
it Will make you ashamed when you hear the names of
several good and worthy Protestants in the arish and
out of it, too, who have given more than the atho cs.”

H_e then roceeded to read the following list, which
he interlar ed copiously with observations of his own;
makingbvtva coca marginal notes, as it were, upon the
subscrl ers, which were not iinfremtly answered b
the persons so noticed, from the y of the chape ,
and laughter was often the consequence of these re-
joinders, which Father Phil never permitted to ass
withoutaretort. Nor must all this be considere in
the least irreverent. A certain eriod is allowed be-
tween two particular portions 0 the mass, when the
priest may address his congregation on any ublic mat-
ter; an approaching pattern, or fair, or e like, in
which exhortations to propriety of conduct, or warn-
ings against faction fig ts, etc. are his themes. Then
they only listen in reverence. hut when a subscription
for such an object as that alread mentioned is under
discussion, the flock consider t emselves entitled to
“ $11: in a word " in case of necessity.

's preliminary hint is given to the reader, that he
may better enter into the spirit of Father Phil's
SUBSCRIPTION LIST. ~
FOR THE muss AND museum or amvsmuon-
omnmr omen.
Pang BLAKE, P. P.
s. . ‘

MiokyEicky. . . . . . . 0 7 6

“ He might as well have made ten shillings; but half
a loaf is better than no bread."

“ Plase our reverence," says Mick, from the body of
the cha e , “sure seven and sixpence is more than the
half of en shillings.“ (A laugh).

“ Ohl how witty you are. Faith, if on knew your
duty lads $11,? your arithmetic, it wou d be betther for
you, 1c .

Here the Father turned the laugh agglnst afick.

s. .

Billleley. . . . . . .. . 0 4
“ Of course he means to subscribe again."
JohnD er........0150'
“That’s someth glikel I’llbebound he’s only keep-
ing back the odd five shillings for a brush full 0 aim;

for the althar' it’s as black as a crow, instead 0’ ejng
as white as a dove. " _ . _
He then hurried over rapidly some small subscribers
asfollows: s d
Peter Heflemal. . . . . . 8
James Murphy. . . . . . .
Mat Donovan. . . . . . .
Luke Dannely. . . . . . .
Jack Qnigly. . . . . . .
Pat Flune an. . . . .
Edward OConnor, Esq. . . ‘ 0
“There’s for on! Edward O’Connor, Esq., a Bio-
testant tn the pa sit—Two pounds 1"
“ Long life to him," cried a vowe in the chapel.
“Amen,” said Father Phil; “I’m not ashamed to be
clerk to so good a prayer.”

A,oooooclb
Quwmpmn
uuoma

it s. d.
Nicholas Fagan, . . . 0 2 6
Young Nicholas Fagan, . 0 5 0

“Young Nick is better than owld Nick, on see.”
The con egation honored the Fathers demand on

their risib‘ 'ty.
% s. d.
TimDo 1e, . . - - 7 6 ,
Owny oyle,. . . . 100>

“ Well done, Own no. Go al—you deserve to pros»
per, for you make g'god useng your thrivmgs.”

£ a. (1.
Si . . .' 0 3 5
Bénfiitfiaurr’fi’hy, . . 0 10 0
" You oughtto be ashamed o' yourself, Simon: a lone
wisdow woman givesumore than you.” if
hasiitngléaflnswergd, I have a large family, a , and she
“ That’s not 'her fault,” said the priest—“ and maybe

(1 ahe‘ll mend 0' that yet." This excited much merri-

ment, for the widow was buxom. and had recently

39.1"}: Lil??er-

 
 

 

 

buried an old husband, and, hyall accounts, was cock-
ing her captata handsome young fellow m the parish.

£ a. d.

Judy Moylan, . . . . 0 5 0

“ Ve good, Judy; the women are behaving like
gentlemen; they’ll have their reward in the next world.”
it s. (1.

Pat Finnerty, . . 0 3 4

“ I'm not sure if it is 8s. 4d. or 3s. 4d., for the figure is
blotted—but I believe it is 8s. 4d.” '

“ It was three and four pince I gave your reverence,”
said Pat from the crowd.

“ Well, Pat, as I said eight and four pence you must
not let me go back 0‘ my word, so bring me five shil-
lings next week. "

“ Sure on wouldn‘t have me pay for a blot, air?”

“Yes would—that‘s the rule of back-mannon, you
know, Pat. When I hit the blot, you pay for'it."

Here his reverence turned round, as if looking for
some one, and called out. “Rafferty! Rafferty! Raf-
feityi 1Sthere litre olu, Rafierty?” d b

n o ray- ea 9 man appeare , caring a large
plate 8mg Father Phil continued— _

“ T ere now, be active—I’m sending him among you,
good (people, and such as cannot give as much as you
woul hke to be read before your neighbors, give what
little you can toward the repairs, and I will continue
to read out the names by way of encouragement to you,
and t e next name I see is that of Squire Egan. Long
life to him i"

33 s. d.
SquireEgan, . . . . 500
“ Sguire Egan— five ounds —— listen to that—five
poun s——a Protestant m t pafish—flve pounds! Faith,
the Protestants Will make you ashamed of yourselves, if
we don’t take care.

a s. d.
James Milligan,_ of Roundtown 1 0 0
“ And not her own parish, either—a kind lady.
Mrs. Flanagan,. . . . 2 0 0
“ And here I must remark that the people of Round.
town have not been backward in coming forward on
this occasion. I have a long list from Roundtown—I
will read it separate." He t en proceeded at a great
pace, jumbling the town, and the pounds, and the o-
ple in a most extraordinary manner: “James illi-
gan of Roundtown, one ound; Darby Daly of Round-
town, one pound; Sam innegan of Roundtown, one
Bound; James Casey of Round ound, one town; Kit
wyer of Town ound, one roun —pound I mane; Pat
Roundpound— ounden, I mane~Pat Pounden, a pound,
of Poundtown also—there‘s an example for you l—but
what are you about, Raffertyl -I don’t like the sound of
that plate of yours.-—you are not a good gleaner—go u
first into the galler there, where see so man good)-
looki bonnets— suppose they will give some ' to
keep t eir bonnets out of the rain, for the wet w' be
into the gallery next Sunda if they don’t. I think that
is Kitty row see, getting er bit oi. silver ready; them
ribbons of ours cost a trifle, Kitty. Well, good Chris.
tians, here more of the subscription for you.
:2 . .
Matthew Lavery, . . . 0 32 (ii
“He doesn’t belong to Roundtawxi— Roundtown will
be renowned in future ages for the support of tin

Church. Markmywords— oundtownwiil ros rfror‘
this day out—Roundtown will be a rising iiiace‘fe
£ 8.
Mark Hennessy. . . . 0 2 %
Luke Clancy, . . . . 0 2 6
JohnDool‘ln, . . . . 0 2 6

“One would think they all agreed only to give two
and Sixpence a 1608. And the comfortable men, tool
And look at t eir names—Ma thew, Mark, Luke, and
John the names of the Blessed Evangelists, and only
ten shillings among them! Oh, they are a ostles not
worthy of the name-we‘ll call them the . I ’33
from this out” (here a low laugh ran throug‘ the
chapel “Do ou hear that, Matthew, Mark. Luke,
and Jo n? F tbl I can tell you that name will stick
to on.” (Here the laugh was louder.)

voice, when.the laugh subsided, exclaimed, “I’ll
make it ten shillin’s our reverence."

“ Who‘s that t” sai Father Phil.

“ Hennessyi, our reverence.”

"Very we , ark. I suppose Matthew, Luke, and
John Will follow your examp e?"

“We will your reverence.”

"Ah! I thou ht ou madea mistake; we'll call you
now the Edit 711 [mace—and I think the change in
the name is betther than seven and Sixpence apiece to

you.

“I seeyou in the gallery there, Rafferty. What do
you pass that well-dressed woman for?—thry back—hal
—see that—she had her money ready if you only asked
for it—don’t go by that other woman there—oh. ohl—
So you won’t give anything, ma’am. You ought to be
ashamed of yourself. There is a woman with an ele-
gértnt stbraw bonnet, and' she won’t ive a. farthing.

ell now— afther that—remember—I ve it from the

uglier, thatfrom this day out sthraw bonnete payfl'penny
p res. '
‘2 . d.
Thomas Durfy. Esq., . . . 1 B0 0

“It’s not his parish and he’s a brave gentlgman.
s. .

00

the with and a sweet on
(gh, faith the’ Protestants is {113:5

Miss Fanny Dawson, . . I
tiyfat’ffimi “i”
, oils or
ing youl l 1
Dennis Fannln, . . . fi 97‘ g.
I “Very good. indeed, for a working mason."
Jemmy Riley. . . . . fig 
“ Not bad for a hedge-carpenther.”
“ I gave you ten, plaza. You: reverence,”'shoutad
Jemmy. and by the same token, you may remember
it was on the N atiVity of the Blessed Vargln, 511'. I gave /
you the second flve shillin‘s.”
_ SO you did, Jammy," cried Father Phil—“I put a ’
little cross before it to remind me of it; but I was in a
hurry to make a sick call when you ave it to me, and ‘
forgot it afther: and indeed myself oesn’t know what
I (laid With  same five shlzillingslil’1 th
ere a p ' woman w was eeling near smile
of the altar uttered all impassioned, blessing and ex-
claimed, “ Oh, that was the very five shillings, ’m sure,
you gave to me that very day to buy some little com-
orts for my poor husband, who was dying in 13;:3
fever l"—and the poor woman burst into loud taco. «a

 

she spoke.

It

A deep thrill of t‘lll()i lull ran through the thick as this
Accidental prool’ of their poor pastor‘s liciicilcenco
burst uion them: and as an ai‘l'eclioiiate murmur it!"

an turiseabuve the sil ‘lltfc which that emotion ro-

uced, the burly Father Philip blushed like a girl at his
publication of hill charity, and t‘Vt‘ll at the foot of that
alter where he stood, felt something like shame in be-
ing discovered in the connnlssion of that virtue so
highly COllllllL‘lltli‘tl by the Holy One to whose worship
the altar was raised. IIe uttered a hasty “Whishb—
whisht!" and waved with his outstretched hands his
dock into silence.

In an in cut one of those sudden changes common to
' ‘ inhly. and scarcely credible to a stranger,

 

moi: plat!
nt‘ the subscription list had passed away and was for-
,‘jOlLL‘ll, and Milli: same man and that some multitude
stood in altered relations—th Were again a reverent
(lock, and he once more a so emn pastor; the natural
play of his nation’s mirthi‘nl sarcasm was absorbed in
at moment in the sacredness of his oillce; and with a
solemiiity befitting the highest occasion, he placed his
hands together before his breast, and-raising his eyes, to
Heaven he poured forth his sweet v0ice, with a tone of
the deepest devotion, in that reverential call to prayer,
“ Orale,fratr£s."

The sound of a multitude gently kneeling down fol—
] iwed like the soft breaking of a quiet sea on a sandy
beach; and when Father Philip turned to the altar to
pra , his pent-u) feohiigs found vent in tears; and
whi e he prayed, e wept.

I believe such scenes as this are not of unfreqnent oc-
currence in Ireland; that country so long-suffering, so
much maligned, and so little understood.

suppose the foregoinv scene to have been only de-
scribed antecedeiit to tie woman in the outbreak of
her gratitude revealing: the riest’s charii y from which
he recoilcd—suppose the mirthfuluess of the incidents
arising from the reading of the subscription-list—a
mirthfuliicss bordering on the ludicrous—to have been

recorded, and nothing .inore, a stranger would he luv :
cliiicd to believe, and pardonable in the bnhcl’, that the

Irish and their priesthood were rather prone to be ir-
reverent; but observe, under this exterior, the deep
sources of feeling that lie hidden and wait but the wand
of divination to be revealed. In a thousand Similar ways
are the actions and the motives of the Irish understood
by those who are careless of them; or worse, misrepre-
sented by those whose interest, and too often business,
it is to malign them. ,

Father Phil could proceed no further With the read-
ing of the subscription-list, but finished the office of
the mass with unusual solemnity. But if the incident
just recorded abridged his address and the ubhcation
of donors’ names by way of stimulus to the ass active,
it produced a. great effect on those who had ‘ but
smaller donations to drop into the plate; and the gray-
headed collector, who could have numbered the scanty
coin before the bereaved Widow had revealed the
pastor’s charity, had to struggle his way afterward
throu h the eagerly outstretched hands that showered
their Mil-earned pence upon I the plate, which was
borne back to the altar heaped With contributions, heap-
ed as it had not been seen for many aday. The studied
excitement of their pride and of their shame—and both
are active agents in the Irish nature—was less success-
ful than the’accidontal ap cal to their affections.

0h: rulers of Ireland, w iy have you not sooner leani-
ed to lead that peolilc. by love, whom all your severity
has been unable to dmvef * '

When the mass was over, Andy waited at the door of
the chapel to catch “his rivcrcnce" coming out, and ob-
tain his advice about what he overheard from Larry
110 an; and Father Phil was accordnr'ly apeosted by
Andy just as he he was going to get in 0 his saddle to
ride over to breakfast with one of ‘theiieighbormg far-
mers, who was holding the priest s stirrup at the ino-
iiiont. The extreme urgency of Andy 5 manner, as be
pressed up to tho pastor’s Side, made, the latter pause
and inquire what he wanted, ' N

“I want to get some adVice from your riverence,
said Andy. ' I _

“ Faith, then, the adVice I give you is never to stop In.
hugry man when he is going to refresh 'hllllb‘cli’, said
l‘ather Phil, who had quite recovered his usual cheer-
i‘ulnesa, and threw his leg over his little rray back as he
spoke. “ How can you be so unreasona ilo as to expect
me to etc here listeninjar to your case, and rwing you
advice in eed,when I have said three masses this morn-
izig, and {ode three miles; how could you be so unrea-
sonable . sa 7

“ I ax'youiyrivercnce's pardon " said Andy;l“ I would-
n’t have taken the liberty only the thing is mighty par-
ticular intirely." ‘

“Well, I tell on again, never ask a bi y man ad-

vice; for he is "holy to cut his adVico on t in pattliern
of his Stomach, and it’s empty adeo you'll get. big
you never hear that a ‘ hungry stomach has no ears ?
‘ The farmer, who was to have _the honor of the
priest's com any to breakfast, exhibited rather more
impatience t an the good-humored I4 other Phil, and re—
proved Andy for his conduct._

“ But it’s so particular ” said Andy. _ . i

“ I wondher you would darf to stopY his riverence, and
be black fastiu’. Go ‘long Wid youl

“ Gome over to my house in the course of the week,
and s eak to me,” said Father Phil, riding away.

An y still persevered, and taking advantage of the
absence of the farmer, who was mounting his own nag
at the moment said the matter of which he Wished to
speak involve( the interest of Squire Egan, or he
would not “ make so bowld." ' I

This altered the matter- and Father Phil desxred
Andy to follow him to the farm-house of John Dwyer,
whera he would speak to him after he had break—
iaste .

 

CHAPTER XXIX. ,

JOHN Dmn‘s house was a scene of activit that
day, for not only was the rlest to breakfast t are—
always an affair of honor— ui: a. grand dinner was also
preparing on a large scale; for a wedding-feast
was to held in the house, in honor of Matt D ver‘s
nuptials, which were to be celebrated that y With a
neighboring young farmer, rather well to do in the
world. The match had been on and of! for some time,
for John Dwyer was what; is commonly called 9. ‘f close-
fisted fellow,” and his would-be son-in-law coud not
bring him to what he considered proper terms, and

 

“ When this passage was written Ireland was disturb-
ed (as she has too often been) by s ecial parliamentary

mvocatggn: th‘g “‘17::noticing“.1 angeecgioxéegislative
fruxes— e ee 5 esso ry pei .

‘t The meg of the mass must be performed fglfinz.

The multitude was hushed—the grotesque ‘

  Handy Andy.

though Matty llk’od inl'Jl‘; Cu. my, and he was fond of
her, they both agreed not to let old Jack l)wyer have
i the best of the bargain in portioning off his daughter,
3 who, having a spice of her father in her, was just as
i fond of number one as old Jack himself. And here it is
, worthy of remark, that, though the Irish are so prone
in general to early iniprovident marriages, no people
are closer in their nuptial barter, when they are in a
condition to make marriage a profitable contract. Re-
i pcatecl meetings between the elders of families take
‘ place, and acute arguments ensue, 1iroperly to cqualise
the worldly goods to be given on both sides. Pots and
pans are balanced, against pails and churns, cows
3 against horses a slip of hog againsta gravel-pit, or a.

)atch of meadow a'rainst a bit of a quarry; a. little
'nio-kiln sonictlnicsrhurns stronger than the flame of
Cupid—the doves of Venus herself are but crowsin
comparison with agood llock of geese—and a love-sick
, sigh less touching than the healthy grunt of a. good
‘ pig; indeed, the last~iiamed gentleman is a most useful
1 agent in this traiile, ior when matters are nearly
,‘ poised, the balance is often adjusted by a gruiiter or two
i thrown into either scale. While matters are thus in a
state of debate, quar ls SOlllclilllofiocmll‘ between the
lovers; the gentleman a caution sometimes takes alarm,
and more frequently ti 1e lady‘s pride is aroused at the
too Obvious preference given to worldly gain over
heavenly beauty; Cupid shies at Mainnion, and Hymen
is upset and left iii the mire.

I remember hearing of an instance of this nature,
when the, may gave her ci—dcrant lover an ingenious rc—
proof, after they had been separated some time, when
a. marriage-bargain was broken off, because the lover
could not obtain from the girl‘s father a certain brown
filly as part of her dowry. The damsel, after the lapse
of some weeks, iiiet licij swaiii at a neighboring fair,
and the flame of love still smouldering in'his heart was
re-illumiiied b 'ihc eight of his charmer, who, on the
contrary, had ecome quite disgusted with him for his
too obvious pi-ciferciiccot profit to true atfection. He
addressed hear softly in a. tent, and asked her to dance,
but. was most, astonished at her returniii r him a look
of vacant wonder, which tacitly implied: “ Wlw are
you?“ as plain as looks could s euk.

“ Arrali, Mary,” exclaimed lie outh. r -

“ Sirlll"—answcred Mary, wit what heroines call
“ incil’able disdain."

“ \Vhy one would think you didn’t know mel”

“IfI ever had the honor of your acquaintance, sir,”
answered Mary “ I forgot you entirely.” ‘

“ Forget ine, llIary‘I—arruh be easy—is it forget the
man that was cox irtiii’ and in love you?” .

j‘You're uiidcra mistake, younr man,” said Ma ,
With a, curl of her rosy fig, which isplayod the pearly
tooth to whose beauty er woman‘s nature rejoiced
that the rot-remit lever was yet insensiblo—“You’re
under a mistake, flyoung man," and her hightened color
iiuide her eye ash more brightly as she spoke—
“ Xou're quite under a. mistake—no one was ever in
love With me,” and she laid signal emphasis on the
word.- “ There was a dirty, mane blaelcguard, indeed,
ontcc 2111. [31w zuzl/mtyfat/ier’d brou‘nfllly, but I forget him.
in irc y.

Mary tossed her head proudly as she spoke, and her
tllly-ifancying admirer, reeling under the reproof she
inflicted sneaked from the tent, while Mary stood
up and danced with a more open-hearted lover, whose
earnest e 0 could see more charms in one lovely woman
than all t 0 horses of Arabia.

But no such result as this was likely to take place in
Matt ' Dwyer‘s case; she and her lover agreed with one
anot war on the settlement to be made, and old Jack was
not to be allowed an inch over what was considered an
even barmin. At lc rth all matters were agreed upon
the wedding-day ilxoc , and the guests invited; yet still
both 'iartics were not satisfied, but young Casey
thou rut he should boput into absolute possession of
a our aim little farm and cottage and have the lease
looked over to see all was right (for Jack Dwyer was
considered rather slippery), while old Jack thought it
time enough to give him possession and the lease and
his daughter altogether.

However, mat ters had gone so far that, as the reader
has seen, the wedding-feast was prepared, the guests
invited, and Father Phil on the spot to help James and
Matty (in the facetious parlance of Padd ) to “ tie with
meg tongues what they could not uni ue with their
tee .

When the priest had done breakfast, the arrival of
Andy was announced to him, and Andy was admitted
to a. rivate audiencqwnh Father Phil, the particulars of
whic i must not be disclosed; for in short, Andy made a
regular confession before the Father, and, we know,
confessions must beheld sacred' but we may say that
And confided the whole est-office affair to he pastor
—to d him how Larry I ogan had contrived to worm
that affair out of him, and by his devilish artifice had.
as Andy feared, contrived to mpllcate Squire Egan in
the transaction, and, b . threatening a. disclosure, got
the worthy squire into is \‘illmnous power. And , un-
der the solemn queries of the priest, positively enied
haviii r said one word to Hoizan to enmiiiate tne squire,
and t iat Hogan could on y infer the squirc‘s u_l1t;
upon which Father Phil, having perfectly atisfled im-
self, told Andy to make his mind easy, for that he would
secure the squire from any harm, and he moreover
praised ‘And for the fidelity he displayed to the inter-
ests of his 0 d master, and palate he was so pleased
with him, that he would des1re J ack yer to ask him
to dinner. “And that will be [IO-bl!!! nut, let me tell
you," said Father Phil—f‘ a. wedding dinner, you lucky
do ——‘Ia.shings* and lavnigs,’ and no end of dancing
aft erl” x,

Andy was accordingly hidden to the bridal feast, to
which-the guests be on ahead to
fast. They strolled u out the ‘eld fore_ the house,
bashed in to ps in the, sunshine, or lay in the shade
under the fig es, where hints of future marriages
were given to many a. pretty girl, and to nudges and

inches were returned small screams suggestive of ad-
ditional assault—and invmng demals of “ Indeed I
wonmn and ma, crowning provocation to riotous con-
duct, “ Behave ourself.’ I .

In the mean into, the barn was laid out With lon
planks, sugmrted on barrels or big stones, whic

lanks, when covered with clean cloths, made a good]

Board that soon beggn to be cavered With em 1e wooc -
en dishes of corned eefrmafited 88959, 130116 chickens
and bacon, and intermediate stacks of cabbage and
huge bowls of potatoes. 8-11 sending up their wreaths of
smoke to the rafters of the , so to become home;-
from the crowd of gill-35‘s,}th W en the word was
given, rushed to the onslaug .5 With right good will.

‘76,me abundance, And plenty left arm.

 

 

 

 

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pi:
Yu-J

The dinner was later than the hour named and the
delay arose from the absence of one who, of a 1 others,
ought to have been present, namel , the bridegroom.
But James Casey was missing, [tilt Jack Dwyer had
been closeted from time to time with several long-head

‘ed greybeurds, canvasuhi r the occurrence, and wonder-

ing at the default on the i'idegroom‘s part. The per-
son who might have been supposed to bear this default
the worst, supported it better than an one. Matty
was all hie and s irits, and helped in ma 'ing the feast
ready, as if not ing wrong had happened; and she
backed Father Phil‘s argument to sit down to dinner at
once—“ that if James Casey was not there, that was no
reason dinner should he s oiled, he’d be there soon
enough; besules, if he didn t arrive in time, it was bet-
ter he should have good meat cold, than everybody
have hot meat is oiled: the ducks would be done to
eindhers, the bee boiled to rags, and the chickens be
all in jonmicthry.”
' So down the they not to dinner: its heat, its mirth,
its clatter, an its good cheer, we will not attempt to
describe; suffice it to say, the vinnds were cod, the
nests hungry, and t 9 drink unexceptiona le; and
‘ather Phil, no bad ju o of such matters, declared he
never pronounced grace over a. better spread. But
still, in the midst of the good cheer, nei hbors (the
women particularly) would suggest to one other the
“ wondhor " where the bride room could be; and even
within car-shot of the bride- cct, the low-voiced whis-
per ran of “ Where in the world is James Casey 2"

Still t e bride kept up her smiles. and cheerqu re-
tur ed the henlths that were drunk to her; but old ack
we not unmoved; a cloud hung on his brow, which
grew darker and darker as the hour advanced, and the
bridegroom et tarricd. The board was cleared of the
eatables. an the co ions jugs of punch gomg their
round; but the usuu toast of the muted hculths of the
happy air could not be 'iven, for one of them was ab-
sent. ‘ather Phil hard y knew what to do; for even
his overflowing cheerfulness began to forsake him, and
a certain air of embarrassment be an to pervade the
whole assembly, till Jack Dwyer cou d bear it no longer,
and, standing up, he thus addressed the company:

“ Friends and nei hbors, you see the disgrace that's
put on me and my 0 ' d."

A murmur of “ No, not” ranmund the board.

“ I so , yis.”

e” 1 come yet, sir ” said a voice.
“ No, he won ,“ said Jack, "I see he won’t—I know
he won’t. He wanted to have everything all his own
way, and he thinks to disvrace me in doin what he
likes, but he shan’t;” and he struck the tab a fiercely
as he spoke,- for Jack, when once his blood was up, was
a man of desperate determination. “he‘s a greedy
cha , the same James Casey and he loves his bar ain
bctt er than he loves you, Matty, so don't look gum
about what I’m saying: I say he‘s greedy: he’s just the
fellow that, if on gave him the roof off your house,
would ax you or t e rails before your door; and he
Ewes back of his bargain now. bekase I would not let
iim have it all his own we , and puts the disgrace on
me, thinkin‘ I’llgive in to uni, through that same; but
I won’t. And I tell you what it is, friends and neigh-
bors, here's the lease of the three-cornered field below
there," and he held up a. parchment as he spoke, “ and
a an cotta e on it, and it’s all ready for the girl to
walk nto w th the man that will have her; and if
there’s a. man amongl 1|you here that’s willing, let him
so the word now, an ’11 give her to himl" .

he 1 could not resist an exclamation of surprise,
which or father hushed b award and look so perenip»
tory, that she saw remon. rance was in vain, and a. El-
lence of some“ moments ensued; for it was rather
startling, this immediate offer of a. girl who had been
so strangely slighted, and the men were not quite pre-
pared to make advances until they knew something
more _of the why and w erefore of her sweetheart‘s
desertion. N i

“Are'yiz all dumb?" exclaimed Jack, in rise.
“me, it’s not every day a snug little field and cottage ,
anda cod-looking girl falls in a. man‘s wa . I say
again, ’ give her and the lose to the man the will my
the word.‘

Stillnp one spoke, and Andy began to think they .
were usmg Jack Dwyer and his chin liter veryi but
what business liade to think of o erinf himsel , “a
poor devil like him 7" But, the silence st 11 continuing,
Andy took heart of grace; and as the profit and pleas-
ure of a. snug match and a handsome Wife flashed upon
him, he got up and said “ Would I do, sir?" v

Every one was taken y surprise, even old J ack him-
self; and Matty could not an press a. faint. exclama-
tion, which every one but An y understood to mean

‘ she didn‘t like it at all,” but which Andy interpreted
quite the other we , and he grinned hisloutish ad-
miration of Matty, w 0 turned away her head from him
in sheer distaste, Which action Andy took for more
00 ness.

ack was in a. dilemma. for Andy was just the last
man he would have chosen as a. husband for his daugh-
ter' but what could he do? he was taken 'at his word.
and even at the worst he was determined that some
one should marry the girl out of hand. and show Casey
the “ disgrace shou‘g not be put on hum" but, anxious
to have another once he stammered somethl
about the fairness of “ietgigg the girl choose,“ an
that “ some one else might to spake;" but the end
of all was, that no one rose to rival Andy and Father
Phil bore witness to the satisfaction he had that day in
finding soimuch u rightneas and fidelity in “ the boy:"
that he had raisedphia character much in his estimation

his conduct that , ; and it he was a little glam
t mes there was no ng like 8: wife to St ‘
and if he was rather poor, sure Jack Dwyer coul mend

it

t.
“ ' omeu here," says Jack; and Andy left his
18.02115: tie verypend of the board and marched up‘
{’0 the head, amid clapping of hands and thumping of
the table, and lagghmg and shoutingi
“ Silencer" cri Father Phil, "‘ t is is no laughing
manner, but a. serious engn rement—and, John Dwyer
I tell you—and ou. Andy ouiicy, that girl must not
be married at her own free-will; but if she has no
obiectlon, will and good." , ~ ,,
‘ My will is her pleasure, I know," said Jack, reso-
lutely. .
To the surprise of every one Matty said, “Oh, I’ll
take the boy With all in heart.“ ‘ '
Handy Andy threw arms round horned: and gave,
her a most vigorous salute, whichcqme Sin
and. thereupon arose a hilarious about which made the
old rafters of the barn ring again.
“There‘s the lass for you,” said Jerk, handing the
V at toAndy who was now installed in the
“Whaldomhmom eminence. (
. \ . p j

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‘ eyes flashed with anger.

L336..-

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and the punt-h circulatul rapidly in filling to the double
toast of health, happiness and prosperity to the “hap-

y pain" and after some few more circuits of the en-

ivenini: liquor had been performed the women retired
to tilt‘ dwellinghouse, whose sanded parlbr was put
put in immediate readiness for the celebration of the
nu tial knot between Matty and the adventurous Andy.

n half an hour the ceremony was performed, and
tho rites and blessings of the Church dispensed between
two people, who, an hour before, had never looked on
much other with thoughts of matrimony.

Under such circumstances it was wonderful with
what lightness of spirit Matty went through the
honors consequent on a )easant bridal in, Ireland;
these. itis needless to deiai ; our limits would not per-
mit; but suffice it to say, that a rattling country-
dnncc was led off by Andy and Matty in the
barn, intermediate jigs were. indul ed in by the
"picked dancers “ of the parish, Wiile the coun-
try dancers were resting and making love (if
making love can be called rest) in the corners, and that
the iplers and punch—makers had quite enough to do
uuti t 0 night was far s out, and it was considered
time for the bride and brii egroom to be escorted by a
chosen arty of friends to the little cottage which was
10 be t eir future home. The pi [(‘I‘S stood .at the
threshold of Jack Dw er, and his aughier de artcd
from under the "mo -trcc " to the tune of “ 0y be
with you;" and then thcliltcrs heading the body-guard
if the bride, plied drone and cliaiiter right merrily
until she had entered her new home, thanked her old
friends (who did all the established civilities, and
cracked all the usual ’okes attendant on the occasion);
and Andy bolted the our of tlic snug cottage of which
he had so sudden] become master, and laced a seat
for the bride bcsi e the tire, requesting ‘ Miss Dwg/er “
to sit down—for Andy could not bring himself to call
her “ Matty ” yet—-and found himself in an awkward
position in beiii “lord and master” of a girl he con-
sidered so far a ove him a few hours before; Matty sat
quiet, and looked at the fire.

“It’s very quare, isn’t it?" says Andy with a grin,
lookin_ at her tenderly, and twiddling his thumbs.

“ W iat‘s uare?” inquired Matty, very drily.

“ The esta e," responded Andy.

" What estate?” asked Matty.

“ Your estate and in estate “ said Andy.

“Sure you don‘t cal the t rec-cornered field my
father gave us an estate, you fool?" answered Matty.

. “ Oh, no," said And '. ‘ I inane the blessed and ho]
estate of matrimony t e priest put us in possession of ; ’
and Andy drew a stool near the heiress, on the strength
of the, bit he thought he had made.

‘l‘fiit at the other side of the fire," said Matty, very
co ( .

“ {is miss," responded Andy, very respectfully; and
in shoving his seat backwar s the legs of the stool
caught in the earthen floor, and Andy tumbled heels
uvei head. . . .

Matty laughed while Andy was picking himself up
with increased confusion at this mishap; .for even
,uuidst rustics there is nothing more humiliating than a
lover placing, himself in a ridiculous posxtion at the
moment he is doing his best to make himself agreeable.

“It is well your coat‘s not new,” said Matty, With a
contemptuous look at Handy’s weather-beaten vest-
ment.

“1 hope I’ll soon have a betthcr," said Andy 9. little
piqued with all his reverence for the heiress at t is allu-
sion to his poverty. “But sure wasn‘t the coat you
married but the man that’s in it; and sure I’ll take off
my clothes as soon as you please, Matty, my dear-—
Miss Dwy‘er I mane—I be your pardon."

“You ad better wait ti you et better," answered
Matty, very di'ily. “You know t 6 old sa ng, ' Don’t
throw out your dirt wather until you get in fresh.’ "

“Ali, darlin’, don t be cruel to me!" said Andy, in a
supplicatin tone. "I know I’m not deservin’ of you,
but sure I id not make so bowld as to make up to you
until I seen that nobody else would have on.”

“Nobody else have me!" exclaimed atty, as her

“I beg your pardon, miss,” said r And , who in
the extremity of his own humility hep comm tted such
a? tEtienne against Matty’s pride. "I only meant

a . .

“ Say no more about it ” said Matty,_ who recovered
her equanimig. “ Didn I: my father give you the lase
of the field a house?"

" Yls, miss."

“ You had better let me keep it then; ’twlll be safer
with me than you.”

“ Sartainl ,“ said Andy, who drew the lease from his

cket and ended it to her, and—as he was near to
icr—lie attempted a little familiarity, which Matty re-
polled very uneqnivocally.

“Arrahl is it jokes you are crackin‘?" said Andy,
with a 'in, advancin to renew his fondlin .

“I to you what it is,“ said Matty, jumping up, “I'll
crack your head if you don‘t behave yourselfl“ and she
seized lbe’stool on which she had been sitting, and
brandished it in a very amazonian fashion.

“Oh, win-a! wirral" said Andy, in amaze—“aren‘t
you my wife?“ I

“ Your wife I" retorted Matty, with a very devd in her
8 e. “ Your wife, indeed, you reat madhqun ;wh ',
diet], had you the brass to tlunk ‘d put lip With you "

“ Arron, then, why did "on marry me? said Andy, in
a itiful ar mentative w iiue.

‘ Why (1le I marry you?" rctorted Matty. “ Didn‘t I
know betther than refuse you, when _my father said
the word when. the dim was busy rim/h him .9 Why did I
marry 'ouY—it‘s a pity I didn‘t refuse, and be mur-
thcred fast night, maybe, as soon as the people 8 bucks
was turned. 0h, its little you know of owld Japk
Dwycr, or you wouldn't ask me that; but, thou h I m
afraid of him, I‘m not afraid of you—so stand 0 I tell

'ou.” “ .

“on. Blessed Virginl“ criedvAndy: and what Will
be the end of it?”

There was a tapping at the door as he spoke. . n .

~‘ You’ll soon see what will be the end of it, said
Matty, as she walked across the cabin and opened to
the knock. I

James Casey entered and clasped Matty in his arms;
and half a dozen athletic fellows an one old and de-
bauched-looking man followed. and t e door was im-
mediately closed after their entry.

Andystood in amazement while Casey and malty
caressed each other: and the old mu said in a vaice
tremulous with intoxication, “A very pretty filly, by
jingol” ,

‘ I lost no time the minute! got your message.
gty," said Casey, “and here’s the Father ready to

““M

E

I
I “Ay, ay," cacklcd the old reprobate—“ hammer and I

l tongsl—strike while the iron's hotl—I’m the boy for a
short job.” and he pulled a greasy book from his
pocket as espokc. ‘

This was a degraded cler man, known in Ireland
rnder the title of “Couple— eggar,” who is ready to
perform irregular marriages on such urgent occasions
as the resent; and Matty had contrived to inform
James ‘asc. of the dos )erate turn affairs had taken
at home, an recomniem ed him to adopt the present
plan, and so defeat the violent measure of her father

y one still more so.

A scene of uproar now ensued, for Andy did not take
matters quietly, but made a pretty considerable row,
which was speedily quelled, however, by Case ’s body-

uard, who tied Andy neck and heels, and in t at help~
ess state he witnessed the marriage ceremony per-
formed by the “condo-beggar,” between Casey and
Ehe girl he had looke upon as his own five minutes be-
ore.

In vain did he raise his voice agaiist the proceedings;
the “ couple-beggar “ smothered his 0 Sections in
ribald jests. ’

“ You can’t take her from me, I tell you,” cried Andy.

“No; but we can take you from her,” said the
“couple-beg ar;" and at the words, Casey‘s friends
dragged An yfrom the cottage, biddin a rollicking
adieu to their triumphant companion, w 10 bolted the
door after them and became ossessor of the wife and
property poor Andy thought e had secured. ,

To guard against an immediate alarm being given,
Andy was warned on pain of death to be silent as his
captors bore him along, and he took them to be too
much men of their word to doubt they would keep
their promise. They bore him throngh a lonely by-
lane for some time, and on arriving at the stum of an
old tree, bound him securely to it,_and left him 0 pass
his wedding night in the tig t embraces of hemp.

CHAPTER XXX.

THE news of And ’s wedding, so strange in itself,
and being celebrate before so many, s read over the
country ike wildfire, and made the alk of half the
barony for the next day, and the nestion, “Arm/I, did
you hear of the wondher/‘ul weddin , " was asked in high-
road and by-road, and scarcely a boreen whose hedges
had not borne witness to this startling matrimonial in-
telligence. The story, like all other stories, of course
got twisted into various strange shapes, and fanciful
exa erations became afted on the ori ‘nal stem,
su ciently grote ue in itself ; and one of t_ e versions
set forth how old ack Dwyer, the more to vex Casey,
had given his daughter the greatest fortune that ever
had been heard of in the country.

Now one of the open-cared people who had caught
hold of the story by this end happened to meet Andy’s
mother, and, with a congratulatory ' , began With
“ The top 0’ the mornin’ to you, Mrs. ooney, and sure
I wish you joy.”

“Och, bone, _and for why, dear?" answered Mrs.
Rooney, “ sure, it’s nothin’ but trouble and care I have,
poor and in want like me.“

“ But sure vou‘ 1 never be in want any more.”

“ Arrah, w o towld you so, agra?"

“ Sure the boy will take care of you now, won’t be?"

‘.‘ What boy?’

“And , sure!"

“ Andy!” replied the mother in amazement. “ Andy,
indeed l—out 0’ place, and without a bawbee to bless
himself with—sta inI out all ni lit, the blackguard!”

“B this and t at, I don’t t ink you know a word
Eben it,” cried the friend, whose turn it was for won-

er now.

“ Don’t I, indeed?” said Mrs. Rooney, hulfed at
having her word doubted, as she thought. “ I tell you
he never was at home last night, and ma be it's your-
self was helping him, Mic Lavery, to eep his bad
courses—the slingein’ dirty lackguard that he is."

Mick Lavery set up a shout of laughter, which in-
creasec the ire of Mrs. Roone , who would have passed
on in dignified silence but t at Micky held her fast,
and when he recovered breath enough to speak, he pro-
ceeded to tell her about Andy’s marriage, but in such
a disjointed way, that it was some time before Mrs.
Rooney could comprehend him—for his inte ectionai
laughter at the cap tal joke it was, that‘s he s ould be
the list to know it and that he should have the luck to
tell it sometimes broke the thread of his story—and
then is collateral observations so disfigured the tale,
that its incomprehensibth became ve much in-
creased, until at last Mrs. ooney was ven to push
hliii by direct questions. .

“For the tendher mercy, Micky Lavery, make me
sinsible, and don‘t disthract me—is the boy married?”

“ Yis, I tell you.“

t"? .lack Dwyer's daughter?”

‘ 'is. ’ -

.“ And gev him a fort’n?"

“ Gev him half his property, I tell you, and he‘ll have
all when the ould man’s dea . ' _

“ Oh, more power to you, Andy l’ cried his mother in
delight: it’s on that is the boy, and the best child that
ever was! alf his property, you tell me, Mather
Lavery?” added she, getting distant and polite the
moment she found herself mother to a rich man, and
curtailing her familiarity with a poor one like Lav-

er . _ _
xYes, ma’am,” said Lave , touching‘his ha, , “and
the whole of it when the owl man dies.

“Then, indeed, I wish him a happy release?“ said
Mrs. Rooney, piouslye—“not that _owe the man any
spite—but sure he’d no loss—and it’s a good wish to
any one, sure, to wish them in heaven. Good mornin’,
Mr. Lavery” said Mrs. Rooney. with a patronising
smile and ‘ going the road With a dignified air. ’

Mic ' Lavery looked after her w1t mingled wonder
and indignation. “ Bad luck to you ou owld sthrapl"
he muttered beneath his teeth. ;‘ ow consaited you
are, all of a sudden—by Jakers, I m sorry I towld lyou
—cock you up indeed—put a beggar on horsebac to
be sure—hump l—the devil cut the tongue out ofime if
everI give any one ood news again. Ive amind to
turn back and tell  Doohng his horse is in the

pound.“ _ -

Mrs. Boone continued her diimfled pace aslon as
she was in sig t of Lave , but t e moment an e of
the road screened her rom his observation, 0 she
53‘: running as hard as she could, to embrace her dar-
ling Andy, and realise with her own eyes and ears an
the 800d news she had heard. She pufled out b the
way many set phrases about the goodness of ovi-
dence. and arranged at the same time sundry flne

 

 

*A“ha Yreloue‘,‘iithnlriah brasoforde
thblifo. pp 9 pm

' o’ the pine

 

Vol. 'i.

 

speeches to make to the bride; so that the old ,lady's
piety and flattery ran a strange couple together along
with herself; while mixed u with her prayers and her
blnmey, were certain s ecu ations about Jack Dwyerw
Em to how long he coul live—and how much he might
ease.

It was in this frame of mind she roachedihe bill
which commanded a View of the three—cornered field
and sung cotta e, and down she rushed to embrace
her darling Am y and his gentle bride. l’ui‘iiiig and
blowing like a po misc, hang she went into the cottage,
and Matty being t is first person she met, shc flung ill'i“
self upon her, and covered her with embraces and
blessings.

Matty, being taken by surprise, was some time before
she could shake off the heldamc’s hateful dresses; bus
at last getting free and tucking up her hit r, which her
imaginary inother-in-law had clawed about her ears,
she exclaimed in no very gentle tones—

“ Arrah, good woman, who axed for your company—
who are you at all?”

“Your mother-in-law, jewel!" cried the Widow
Roone , makinganother open-armed rush at her be-
loved gaughter-m-law: but ilattv reCeivcd the widow’s

rotrudin mouth on her clenched list instead of her
i s, and t 10 old woman’s nose coming in for a share of

att 's knuckles, a ruby stream spintcd forth, while
all t 6 colors of the rainbow danced bchre Mrs.
Roone ’s eyes as she reeled backward on the floor.

"’l‘a e that, you owld faggot!“ cm‘cd Matty, as she
shook Mrs. Rooney’s tributary claret from the knuckles
which had so scientifically tapped it, and wiped he]
hand in her apron.

The old woman roared “ millia murthur” on the floor,
and snuffled out a. deprecatory (filt—‘Stlon “if that was
the ropcr way to be received in or son’s house 9"

“ om- son‘s house indeed!” cried Matty.
you stac 0’ rags."

‘IEOh, An y! Andy!“ cried the mother, gathering her-
se 11 .

“ O i—that’s it, is it?" cried Matty; “so it’s Andy you
want?"

“Tobe sure: wh
My boyliny darlin' in beauty!
“ Well, go look for inil" cried Matty, giving her a

shove toward the door. .

“Well, now, do you think I’ll be turned out of my
son’s house so quietly as that, you unnatural bagg e?“
cried Mrs. Rooney, facing round, fiercely. Upon w icli
a bitter altercation ensued between the women; in the
course of which the widow soon learnt that Andy was
not the possessor of Matty’s charms: whereupon the
old woman, no 10 or having the fear of damaging her
daughter-in-law‘s eauty before her eyes, tackled to
for a lit in right earnest, in the course of which some
reprise s were made by the widow in revenge for her
broken nose; but Matty’s youth and activity, jomed to
her Amazonian s irit, turned the tide in her favor,
though, had not t 9 old lady been blown by her long
run, the victory would not have been so easy, for sho ‘
was a tough customer, and left Matty certain marks of
her favor that did not rub out ina hurry—while she
took away (as a keepsake) a handful of lllatty’s hair, by
which she had long held on till a successful kick from
the gentle bride finally ejected Mrs. Rooney from the

0 se.

Off she reeled, bleedin and roaring, and while on her
approach she had been lessing heaven and inventing
sweet speeches for Matt , on her return slie'was curs-
ing fate and heaping a. sorts of hard names on tho
Amazon she came to flatter, Alas, for the brevity of
human exultationl I

How fared it in the meantime with Andy? He, poor
devil! had passed a cold n' ht, tied ii to the old tree,
and as the mornin dawue , everyi ob ect appeared to
him through the in light in a dis or-ted form; the gap-
ing hollow of the old trunk to which he was bound
seemed like a hugh mouth opening to swallow him
while the old knots looked like eyes, and the gnarled
gar; ches like claws, staring at and ready to tear him

eces.

raven, perched above him' on a lonely branch,
croaked dismally, till Andy fancied he could hear
words of wproncli 1n the sounds, while a little tonitit
chattciel and twittcred on a nei hboring bou h, as if
he enjoyed and a )proved of all t 6 severe things the
raven uttered. '1‘ ie little tomtit was the worst of the
two, just as the solemn reproof of the wise can be bet-
ter_borne than the impertinent remark of some chat-
tering fool. To these imaginary evils was added the
realit _of some enormous water~rats that issued from
an a acent 01 and began to eat Andy’s hat and
shoes, which d fallen off in his stru gle with his cap~
tors; and all Andy’s warning ejacu tions could not
make the vermin abstain from his shoes and his but,
which, to judge from their ea er eatingi could not s1 ay
their stomachs long, so that why, as e looked on at
the rapid demolition, began to read that the might
transfer their favors from his attire to hunse f, until
the tram oftapproaching horses relieved his anxiety,
and in a ew minutes two horsemen stood before him—
they were Father Phil and 8%uire Egan.

Great was the surprise of t e Father to see the fellow
he had married the night before, and whom he sup-

sed to be in the enjoyment of his hone oon, tied up

0 a tree and looking more dead than alive; and his in-

dignation knew no bounds when he heard that a
"couple-beg ar " had dared to celebrate the marriage
ceremon , w ch fact came out in the course of the
explanation. that Andy made of the des erate misad.
venture which had befallen him; but a other grim"
ances gave way in the eyes of Father Phil to the
“couple4be an”

“A ‘ coup e-beg r ‘l the audacious vagabonesl" he
cried, while he an the squire were engaged in loosing
Andy‘s bonds. “'A ‘ coup e-beggar ‘ in my parishl How
fast they have tied him up, 5 uire!" he added, as he
endeavored to undo a knot. A ‘couple- ar’ in:
deed! I’ll undo the marriagel have you a kn a about
you, s uire? the blessed and holy tie of matrimon '2
it’s a b ack knot bad luck to it, and must be cut— is
your leg out o’ t at now—and wait till I lay my hands
on them—a ‘ couple-beggar” indeedl"

f‘A desperate outrage this whole aflalr has been!"
said the s uire. .

“ But a con le-begfifr.’ Bank‘s."
“ His house roken to-—’

“But a ‘ cou le-beggar’v"

.“ His wife en from him-—”

“ But a ‘oouple- ’—"

“ The laws v10 _-—” .

“But m dim squire—think 0’ that! what would be»
come 0’ hem, if couple-beggars ‘is allowed to slim-x
their audacious faces in the arish. Oh wait till 1.5.x.-
Sunday. that‘s all—I’ll have em up before the about,

“ Get out

wouldn’tI want him, you hussy?

n

N07. 9.

and I‘ll make them beg (iod‘s pardon, and my pardon,
and the congregation‘s pardon, the audacious pair! '*

“It‘s an assault. on Andy,“ mid the st lll‘l‘u.

“ It’s a robbery on me," said ll‘athcr ’hil. '

“ Could you identify the men?“ said the sc iiirc. .

“ Do you know the ‘ couplevbcggnr?‘ " Sun the priest.

“Did James Casey lay iis hands on you?" said the
squire; “for he is a good man to have a warrant;
a ainst." I

81' 0h, Squire. Squire!“ ejaculated Father Phil; v“ talk-

lug;r of laying hands on him, is it you iire?~didn t that;
blackguai'd ‘cuuple-beggar‘ lay his dirty hands 5m a,
woman that my bran new benediction was upoui burn,
they‘d do anythng after tliatl" . o

B this time Andy was free, and havmg l‘(‘l'OlV9(l the
st uire‘s directions to follow him to Merl'yvale,‘}i‘ut,her
Phil and the worth squire were once more in thcir
saddles and prococt cd quietly to the same place, the
squire silently considering the audacity of the coup—de-
ma'in which robbed And of his Wife, and his reverence
puffing out his rosy cliee sand muttering sundgy angry
sentences, tho intelligible words of which were couple-
beggar.

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

Dovn'rmss the reader has anticipated that the pres-
ence of Father Phil in the company of tho squire at
this immediate time was on account of the communica—
tion made by Andy about the post-office atllair. Father
Phil had determined to give the squire freedom from
the stratcgetic coil in which Larry I ogan had ensnared
him, and lost no time in setting about it; and it was on
his intended visit to Meri‘yvale that he met its hospi-
tablc owner, and iciliiii,r him there was a matter of
some private importance he wished to communicate,
suggested a quiet ride together; and this it was which
led to their traversing the lonely little lane where they
discovered Andy, whose name was so prinCIpal in the
revelations of that day. .

To the squire those revelations were of the dearest
importance; for they relieved his mind from aweight
which had been 0 ressing it for some time, and set
his heart at rest. IBegan, it must be remarked, was an
odd mixture of courage and cowardice; undaunted by
personal danger, but strangely timorous where moral
courage was required A remarkable shyness, too,
made him hesitate constantly in the. utterance of a
word which might explain away any difficulty in which
he chanced to find himself; and this helped to keep his
tongue tied in the matter wliei e Larry I ogan had con.
tinned to make himself a bugboar. .116 had a hoxror,
too, of heiii thought capable of doinga dishonorable
thing, and tghc shame he feltvat liavmg pooped into ,9,
letter was so stinging, that the idea of asking an one 3
advice in the dilemma in which he was lacet ‘madc
him recoil from the thought of suchlaid. . ow, ll athei-
Phil had relieved him from the difficulties his own
weakness imposed: the subJoct had been forced upon
him‘ and once forced to s )cak he made a. full acknow-
lcdg’enient of all that ha taken placerand when he
found Andy had not borne Witness againsthmi, and
that Larry Hogan only m erred his. participation in the
transaction he saw on other Phil s showing that he
was not really in Larry Hogan’s power; for though he
admitted he had given Larry a trifle of money from
time to time when Larry asked for it. under the influ-
ence of certain inuendoes, yet that was no proof against
liim' and Father Phil‘s adyice was to get Andy out of
the ’way as soon as possible, and thch to set‘Lai-ry
quietly at defiance—that is to say, lnyFather Phil 9 own
words, “ to keep never minding him. ' _

Now Andy not being encumbered With a. wife (as fate
had so ordained it) made the matter earner, and the
squire and the Father, as they rode toward Meri vale
to other to dinner, agreed to pack Andy off wlihout
dole , and thus place him beyond Hogan 5 ower, and
as D ck Dawson was going to London with urpliy, to

ush the petition against Scatterbram s return, it was
looked upon as : lucky chance, and Andy was at Once
11am (1 to bear t om com an .

“ism; you must not hit gogan know that Andy is
sent away under your patronage, Squire, said the
Father, “ for that would be presumptive evidence you
had an interest in his absence; and Hogan is the very
blackguard would see it fast enough, for he is a. know-

‘ Yl
mg gimme deepest scoundrel I ever met," said the

re‘ ' ' ' H ' I - u
- as a ailer, said Fathei Phil. A
jailéi‘s dlidul‘i’igyg—by dad, he hates any jailer I ever heard
.if—fdr that fellow”is so 'cute, h: could keep Newgate
e.
’Ui‘t‘lia‘i-Iifiifbmgf elihero's one thing .I forg‘ot to tell you,
respectin t ose letters I threw into t 9 fire; for re-
i‘ather, I only pooped into am and destroyed

$212335; but one of the letters, I must tell you, was

' ourself.” '
mfilgheighfot on I forgive on that, squire, ’said Father
Phil, “for I hate letters; but if you have any scru lo of
conscience on thousii‘bject, write me one yoursol , and
that will do as we . i v

The uire could not help thinki the Father 3 mode
of Btlhfflug the difficulty worthy 0 Handy Andy him-
self; but he did not tell the Father so. 0d

They had now reached Merryvale, where the go -
humoi-ed priest was heartll welcomed, and where Dr.
Growling, Dick Dawson an Murphyi were also guests
at dinner. Great was the delight o the party at t 2
history the heard, when the cloth was drawn, 0
Andy’s wed 'ng, so much in keeping With his fOimer
life and adventures, and Father hi had another op-
portiniity of venting his rage against the ‘ couple- beg-

a n

K‘That was but a slip-knot you tied, Father,” said the
loci”. i ‘dk own doctor "

“ e e .

“ D3933} iiiink, Fathér Phil,” said Murphy, “ that

*A man and woman who had been united by a.
“couple-bog or " were called up one Sunday by the
priest in the ace of the congregation, and summoned,
is Father Phil threatens above, to beg Godp pardon,
Ind the priest’s pardon, and the congregation s pal-301,1
out the woman stoutly refused the last pondition. ” I

Got-rs pardon and you reverenoes pardon, she
2:51. “but I won’t beg the congregations pardon.

 Andy. 

(Int! marriage was made in heaven, where we are told
marriages are made?“ _

“ 1 don‘t suppose it was, Mr. Murphy; for if it had it
would have he (1 upon earth."

“ Very well answered, Father,“ said the squire.

“ I don‘t know what other cople think about matches
being made in heaven,” Sui Growling, “but I have my
suspicions they are sometimes made in another place. ‘

“ 0h, Iio, doctor!" said Mis. Egan.

 

“ The doctor, nia'am, is an old bachelor," said Father f I think,‘ said Tom, ‘ 1’]

Phil, “ or he wouldn’t so so."
“ Thank you, Fat her 1’ ill, for so polite a speech."

The doctor took his pencil from his pocket and began syst

to write on a. small bit of paper, which the priest oh-
scrving, asked him what he was about, “or is it writ-
ing a prescription on are,” said he, “ for compounding
hotter marriages 1 an I can Y“

“ Something very naughty, I dare say, the doctor is
doing," said Fanny Dawson. .

“Judge for yourself, lady fair,” said the doctor,
handing Fanny the .511 ) of paper.

Faun looked at it or u. inonient and smiled, but de-
clared it was very wicked, indeed,

“Thou read it for the company, and condemn me
out of your own pretty mouth, Miss Dawson," said the
doctor. ,

“ It is too wicked."

“If it is ever so wicked,“ said Father Phil, “ the
wickedness will be neutralized by being read by an
angel.”

“ Well done, St. Omcr's," cried Murphy.

“Really Father,“ said Fanny, blushing, “you are
desperate] gallant to-duy, and Just to shame on, and
show how little of an angel 1 am, I will read he doc-
tor‘s cpigmni:

n 8 Though matches are nll made in heaven, they say,

Yet Hymen, who mischief oft hatches,
Sometimes deals with the house l‘ot/ier side of the way,
And there they make Lucifer matches.‘ "

“ 0h, doctorl I‘m afraid you are a woman-hater,“-

said Mrs. Egan. “ Come away, Fanny, I am sure they
want to get rid of us.” . . _ . .

“ Yes,“ said Fanny, rismg and gaining her sister, who
was leaving the room, “and now, after abusing poor
Hyman gentlemen, we leave you to your favorite wor-
shi of liacchus.” .

' ic departure of the ladies changed the conversation,
and after the gentlemen had resumed their seats, the
doctor asked ick Dawson how soon he intended going
to London.

“I stait immediately," said Dick. “Don‘t forget to
rive me that letter of introduction to your friend in

iibliii, whom I long to know."

“ Who is hc ‘3" asked the squire.

“ One Tom Loftus—or, as his friends call him, ‘ Pi ing
Tom,‘ from his vocal )owers; or, as some name im,
‘ Organ Loftus,‘ from is imitation of that instrument,
which is an excessively comical iece of caricature."

“ Ohl I know him well,” said other Phil.

“How did you manage to become acquainted with
him?" inquired the doctor, for I did not think he lay
much in your way."

“It was lie became acquainted with me," said Father
Phil, “and this was the wa of it—lie was down on a
visit botiines in the girlish was in before this, and his
behavior was so wil hat I was obliged to make an al-
lusion in the choapel to his indiscretions, and threaten
to make his con not a subject of severe public censure
if he did not mind his manners a. little better. Well, my
dear, who should call on me on the Monday morning
after but Misther.Tom, all smiles, and graces, and pro-
testing he was sorry he fell under in spleasuro, and
hoping I would never have cause to d fault with him
again. Sure, I thought he was ropentin of his mis-
deeds and I said I was glad to hear suc good words
from him. ‘ A‘then, Father,’ sayshe, ‘ I hear you have

t a great curiosity from Dublui—a shower-bath, I

earl” So I said I had; and indeed. to be candid, I was
as proud as 8. peacock of the same bath, which tickled
my fancy when I was once in town, and so I bought it
‘| ould you show it to me?’ says be. ‘To be sure,‘
says- I, and OR I went, like a fool, and put the wather
on the top, and showed him how, when a string was
pulled, down it came—and he i‘etended not clearly to
understand the thing, and at t said, ‘Sure it‘s not
into that sentry-box you ot?‘ so. 3 be. ‘Oh yes,’ sold
I getting into it quite nnocen ; when, my door. he
sin. 3 the door and sstcns it on me and ulls the st
an souses me with the water, an I wi h my best an
of black on me. I roared and shouted inside while
Misthor Tom Loftua was screechin' lsu hing outside.
and dancing round the room with delé‘bt. At last,
when he could speak, he said, ‘Now, other, we’re
even,’ says he, ‘ for the abuse you gave me yesterday.’
and off he ran." .

“ That’s just like him “ said old Growllng, chuckling:
“he‘s a uoer devil. remember on one occasion a.

oor dantd puppy who was in the same office with

m—for cm is in the Ordnance department, on
must, know—this puppy, sir, wanted to go to the sh-
bourne races and cut a figure in ma eyes of a rich gro-
cer’s daughter he was sweet u on.

"Be sweet upon a. grocer 3 daughter," said Mur-
phy “ is like bringi coals to Newcostle.’

‘ Faith! it was com to Newcastle with a. ve ounce,
in the resent case, for the girl would have not ng to
say to im, and Tom had great delight whenever he
could annoy this poor fool in his love-making plots.
So, when he came to Tom to ask for the loan of his
horse, Tom said he should have him iflw could make the
smallest me q; him—‘ but I don’t think you can,’ said
Tom. ‘Leave that to 1983 said the outh. ‘I don’t
think you could make him 80" said 0, -
new pair of spurs,‘ said the uppy. Let them be
handsome ones,‘ said Tom. ‘ was 100 at a. very
handsome air at Lamprey's, yesmrdaza Said the
young gent eman. ,‘Tben ou can buy t can on your
way to my stables,‘ said um; and sure enough air
the youth laid out his money on a. very cost] ir of

rsuaders and then roooedod homewards t Tom.
P6 ’ p i ' i .

Now, with all your s urs, said‘ Tom, I don‘t think

ou’ll be able to make no 803 Is he so very vicious,

hen?‘ inquired the out-11‘, who began ‘to think of his

neck. ‘On the con rm'y, said Tom, he’s perfectly
quiet but won’t go for you, In bet .a ound.’ ‘Done ’
said the youth. Well, tfithim. said om, as he threw
‘ e s lazyfil see,’ aid the youth'

“ won’t ” so is she. o n the stable door. ,
“3,1333? 1:33, says the pgdeSt.” eiI'ied Ids’,,revgrencez ‘Fdar he’s lying down.’ ‘Falth.’ q is.’ said Tom, ‘an
“take her home one ofinfihfld he to her husband hasn‘t got up these two daysl Get up, you brutel’

2i d
wnomliumbled - take her home, an en,-
thei- her well—for she wants it; and if you don’t leather
her well, you’ll be son'yy—for if you dont make her
Ink-kl of you, she’ll master YOU, too—tske her home
ud bother her.”-Fm.

 

 

said the innocent youth giving a smart cut of his whip
on the horse‘s flank; but the horse did not budge.
‘ , he's deadl‘ says he-. ‘Yes.‘ says Tomfixglnce
‘Mongaylad. So I don’t think you cunnmke go,
and you've lost your bet l’ ” _ _ L“ _«

 

l
l

 

‘I’ll buya h

 

37

“ That was hardly a fair joke," said the Squire.
“Toni never stops to think of that,“ returned the

doctor; “ he’s the oddest follow I ever knew. The last
time I was in Dublin, I called on Tom and found him

one bitter cold and stormy morning standing at an
0 on window, nearl quite undressed. 0n asking him
w int he was abmi , he said he was yum/i! 11p a ban:
mnce ,' that Mrs. Somebody, who gave goml t him-rs and
had concerts, was disa ointed of her buss singer, ‘ and
t e hoarse enough in the even—
ing to takoldoublo B tlat. Systems are the fashion
now." said he; ‘ there is the Logierinn system and other
“IS and mine is the Cold-air-iaii system, and the
best in the world for getting up a bass voice.~ ”

“'l‘lmt was very original, certainly," said the .\'( nirc.

“But did on ever hear of his udvcnturc witi the
Duke of Wei ’ngton?" said the doctor.

“ The Duke!” they all exclaimed.

“Yes—that is, w on he was only Sir Arthur Welles-
ley. Well, I‘ll tell you."

“Stop,” said the uire “a flesh story requires a
fresh bottle. Let me ring or some claret. ’

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE servant who brou lit in the claret announced at
the same time the arriva of a fresh guest in the person
of “Captain Moriarty," who was welcomed by most
of the arty by the name of Randal. The Squire
regretted) he was too late for dinner, inquiring at
the same time if he would like to have something
to eat at tho side-table ' but Randal declined the
offer, assuring the Squire ho had got some refreshment
during the du while he had been out shooting; but as
the sport led iirn near Mcrryvalo, and “ he had a great;
thirst upon him," he did not know a better house in
the country wherein to have ‘ ‘lhc same " satisfied.

“ Then you’re just in time for some cool claret,“ said
the Squiro' “ so sit down beside the doctor, for he must
have the rst glass and breach the bottle, beioro he
pipaches the story he‘s going to tell ins—that‘s only

am”

The doctor filled his glass and tested.

“What a nice ‘chateau’ ‘xllarqacw‘ must be," said
he, as he laid down his glass. ‘ I should like to be u
tenant-at-will there, at a small rent.”

“ And no taxes," said Dick ‘

“ Except my duty to the claret,“ replied the doctor.

“ ‘My favorite chateau

' Is that of Margaux.’
‘By-the-hy, talking of chateau, thor‘s the big brown
over at the town, who is anxious to affect gent ili'ty, and
he heard some one use the word chapenu, and having
found out it. was the French for hat, he deteriuined to
show off on the earliest possible occasion, and selected
apub c meeting of some sort to dis ilay his accom-
plishment. Taking some cause of o jection to the
proceedings, as an excuse for leaving the meeting, he
said, ‘ Gentlemen, the fact is I can‘t agree with you, so
I may as well take my chateau under my arm at once,

on w .

“Is not that. an invention of your own, doctor?" said
the Squire. '

“ I heard it for a fact,” said Growllng.

“And ’tls true," added Murphy, “ for I was pressed

when he said it. Add at anearlicr art of the prooeoil-
logs he suggested that the 'sh c erk should read the
rescind because he hit a. good ‘ laudable voice.‘ "

“ A parts clerk eight to have,” said the doctor—“ eh,
Father Phlll—‘ (an amm /' " r '

ti; Leave ed be h
s you roinis a utt 6 Duke and Tom Lot’tus.“

“lgight, glister Dick,” said Father Phil.

“ The story, dactor, ’ said the S uiro.

“ Oh, don’t make such bones u. out it," said Growl-
ing; “ ‘tis but a trifle after all; only it shows you what
a ueer and reckless rascal Tom is. I told you be was

ed ‘ Organ ‘ Loftus by his friends, in consequence of
the imitat on he makes of that instrument; and it cer-
tainly is worth hearing and seeing, for your eyes have
as much to do With the aflair as your ears. Tom plants
himself ‘on 0. high office—stool, before one of those lofty
desks With long rows of drawers down oacn side and a
hole between to put your legs under. Woll, sir, Toni
pulls out the top drawers, like the stops of an organ,
and the lower ones hysway of pedals, and then he be-
gins thrashing the dos like the linger-board of an or-
gan, with his hands, while his feet kick away at the
owor drawers as if he was the greatest pedal performer
out of Germany, and he eini a rapid succession of
grunts and squeaks, roducln a ludicrous reminis-
cence of the lnstrunicn , which defy any one to hem
without lau hing: Several sows and an indefinite num~
be? 01 511 18' pigs could not make a greater noise,
and Tom himsc f declares that he studied the instru-
ment in a pigsty, which he maintains gave the first no-

tion of an organ. Well, sir, the youths in the office as '

sist in ‘do the service ‘ as they call it, that is mak.
ing an imlta on of the c outing and so so forth in St.
Patrick‘s Cathedral."

“ 0h. 318 ha thonsl" said Father Phil.

“ One 033 Svtray, and another Weyman, and another
Sir John Stevenson, and so on; and they go on re-
sponsmgainl singing ‘Amen’ till the Ordnance Office
“11% 'LJII. ’

‘ fie they nothing better to do i" asked the Squire.
“Very little but reading the papers,“ said the doo-
wr. -

“Well, Tom—you must know, sir—was transferred
some time

your Latin,” said Dick, “and tell us that V

by the interest of many influential

frion to tlaigoflondon department: and the fame of his.

music powers had gone before him from some of the
En lish clerks in Ireland who had been advanced to the
er ‘ s in Dublin, and kept I3) comspondoiico
w the r old friends in London- on it was not long
until .Tom was requested to go t ugh an anthem on
the great office-desk. Tom was only too glad to be ask-

ed, and he kept the whole office in a roar for an hour ,

with allthe varieties of the instrument—from the dia-
poson to the flu the devil a. more business
was done in the office that day, and Tom before loner
made the sober lish fellows as great idlers‘ as the
chi: in Dublin. oil, it was not 10 until 9 sudden
flu of bugneas 081:6 upon zhe depar exit, 11;“ counse-
uence of e regain ions in or p on
go Spain, “the “he .uke was going here to he
the comde of the arm , and organ-playing WI‘J set
aside for some days; but e fellows tor a. wool: 5 ob-
once beganlto yearn for it, and 'l‘om was Inquested
to ‘dglclnl ce', t n i “in? hiv d
his 0 so u a. are m, an
commoncmegerdemainp “,3. he called it, pulled out
hll stops and began to work aw like a beaver, while
every now and then be swore at e bellows’hlower lo.-
not giving

him wind enough, whereupon tlio MWV

a. l-u- .mmn

 

' m “M mow.me

 

 

 

a“: 4‘ “I‘m-n73. .-_- =2

- .-...._........-...‘rw-m... .u mumm-
fis --.__.. -_ WW... .__- ._..-.._- _..__....._._.. _.../. “a... _.~ _... ~—

38

 

would kick the bellows-blowarto accelerate his flatu-
lency. Well sir, they were in the middle of the service, ,
and all the blackgaurds makin responses in due sea.-
son. when, just as Tom was quivering under a portcnt-
ous grunt, which might have shamed the principall
diapasoii oi’ Harlaoni, and the subs were drawing out .
a resplendent ‘A—a—a—men,’ the door opened, and in }
walked a smart-looking gentleman, with rather a large

nose and quick eye, which latter glanced round the ,
office, where a sudden endeavor was made by every-

body to get back to his place. The smart gentleman ‘
seemed rather surprised 0 see a little fat man blowing I
at a desk instead of the fire, and long Tom kicking, ,
grunting and squealing like mad. The bellows-blower .

 

was so taken by surprise he couldn‘t stir, and Tom, 1 universal interest made in his favor bythe. general ‘ said the doctor.
In“.ng his back to them, did not see what had taken ‘ officers in conSideration of his former meritorious con- i it, and not play the dissector upon it

place, and went on as if nothing had happened, till the E
smart entleiuan went u to him an , tapping on
Tom‘s desk with n. little rit in -whip,’lie said, ‘ m sorry
to disturb you, sir, but I u h to know what you‘re
about.‘ ‘We‘re doing the service. sir,’ said Tom, no
way abashed at the sight of the stranger, for he did not ,
know it was Sir Arthur Wellesley was talking to him. ‘
‘Not the public service, sir,’ said Sir Arthur. f Yes,
sir,‘ said Tom, ‘ the service as by law established in fhe
second year of the reign of King Edward the Slxth,’
and he favored the future hero of Waterloo With a
touch of the organ. ‘Who is the head of this offlce?‘
inquired Sir Arthur. Toni, with a very aclous bow,
replied, ‘I am principal organist and a ow me to in-
troduce you to the riucipal bellows-blower'—and he
ointcd to the poor itth man, who let the bellows fall
rom his hand as Sir Arthur fixed his e e on him. Tom
did not perceive till now that all the c erks were taken
with a sudden fit of industry. and were writing away
for the bare life' and he cast a look of rise round
the office while dir Arthur was looking at t e bellows
blower. One of the clerks made a my face at Tom,
which showed him all was not right. ‘Is this the way
His Majesty‘s service generally goes on here?‘ said Sir -
Art-inr, shaiply. No one answered; but Tom saw, by
the long faces of the clerks and the short question of
the visitor, that he was wnwbody.

“ ‘Some transports are waiting for ordnance stores,
and I am referred to this ofilce.‘ said Sir Arthur; ‘ can
anyone give me a satisfscmr answer?

“The senior clerk present for the head of the omce
was absent) came forward and said, ‘ I believe, sir—’

“ ‘ You believe, but you don't know,’ said Sir Arthur;
‘so I must wait for stores while on are in. ‘ tom-
foolery here. I‘ll re ort this.‘ en, p ucing a little
tablet and a pencil, e turned to Tom and said, ‘ Favor
me with your name, sir?‘

" ‘I lve you my honor,i said Tom. D

“ ‘ I‘ rat or you'd give me the stores, sir. I’ll trouble
you for your name.‘

. “ ‘ n my hmwr, sir,‘ said Tom, again.

“ ‘ £3 seem to have a great deal of that article on

your hands, slr,‘ said Sir Arthur: ‘yon’re an Irishman,

 

I suppose?
“ es. sir ‘ said Tom.
“ ' I thought so. Your namei' 
“ ‘ Loftus, sir.‘

“ ‘ Ely family?‘
I. O 0 V

N , .

“ ‘Glnd of it.“

“ e put up his tablet after writing the name.

“ ' y I be the favorto know sir,“ said Tom, ‘to
whom I have t e honor of ad myself?

“ ‘ Sir Arthur Wellesley, sir.’

" ‘0 J—sl‘ said Tom. ‘ I‘m done!”

"‘Sir rthur could not help laughing at the extraor-
dinary c e in Tom's ccuntenauce; and Tom, takin
advantage 0 this relaxation in his iron manner, sai
in' a most penitcnt tone, ' 0h, Sir Arthur Wellesley,
only forgive me this time, and ‘pon my mot,’ says he—
wlt the richest brogue—‘ I’ll plays. Te Deum for the
first licking you give the French.‘ Sir Arthur smiled
and left the office. ‘ t

“ Did he report as he threatened? asked the squire.
“ Faith he did.”

“ And Tom ?" inquired Dick.

" Was sent back to Ireland sir."

“That was hard, after the bake smiled at him," said

“with? '

“ , he did not let him sufler in pocket; he was
transferred at as good a salary to a less important de-
partment; but you know the uke has been celebrated
all his life for never overlooking a breach of duty."

“And who can blame him?" said Moriarty.

“ One eat advantage of the practice has been,"
said the uire, “that no man has been better served.
I remember hear a striking instance of what, per- ‘
haps .might be calle. severe ustice which be exercised
on a young and distinguis ed officer of artillery in
Spain; and though one cannot help pit ‘ the case of
the gallant youn fellow who was the sacrifice, yet the

uestlon of stric dut , to the new word was set at rest

orever under the Du e‘s command, and it saved much

trouble by making every cdicer satisfied, however

ry his courage or tender his sense of being suspected

of the white feather, that implimt obedience was the

coursolge ‘nmat ptlll‘sue.’ The case was this: the army
was 0 into ac ion—‘

“ atg action was it?" in uired Father Phil, with
that remarkable alacrlty whic men of peace evince in
hearing the fullest particulani about war, rhaps be-
cause is forbidden to their cloth {one of t e many .1“.
stances of things acqpiring a fictitious value _b b31118
interdicted—just as other Phil himself mig t have
been a Protestant only for the nal laws.

“I don't know what actioni was,“ said the Squire,
“ nor the officer‘s name—for I don’t set up for a mili-
tary chronicler; but it was,‘as I have been telhng you,
ESE into action that the Duke posted up Omcer. With

' ifiuns, at a certain point, tellinglnm to remain
there t he had orders from him. Away went the rest
of the army, and the omcer was left domg nothing at
all, which he didn’t like; for he was one of those high-
Blooded gaggementvggo are pever so llisppydasmwhen

eysrem'vo peoemiserae,an was
longing for thlgluwi of a Ranch column to be bam-
mering away at. In half an hour or so he heard the
distant sound of action, and it 3. reached nearer and
nearer, until he heard it close him; and he won-
dered rather thathe was not invited to take a. share in
it, when, put to his thought, up came an atde—de—camp
at full speed telling him that General Somebod or-
dered him to bring up his $35. The ofilcer ask did
not the order come rom rd emngton? The aide- .
“dang said no but from the General, whoever he was. ‘
The 0 car explain
" m, rm...“ “new...
“0' . e a
“9201’s entire brigade was being

not to move, unless by an
stated that the
ven in and must

 

 

 

 

ed that he was placed there by Lord poi

 

£7119 N??? {9* military:

 

be annihilated without the aid of the guns, and asked
‘ would he let a whole brigade be slaughtered?” in a tone
which wounded the young soldier‘s pride, savoring, as
he thought it did, of an imputation on his courage. He
immediately ordered his guns to move and joined bat-
tle with the General' but while he was away an aide-
de-camp from Lord Wellington rode up to where the
wins had been pox/ed, and of course, no gun was to be

ad for the service whici Lord Wellington re uired.
Well, the French were repulsed, as it hap iie ; but
the want of those six guns serious] marre a irecon-
certed movement of the Duke's, an the ofilcer coin-
mand of them was immediately brought to a court-
martial, and would have lost his commission but for the

y

duct and distinguished aliantry, and under the pecu- 1
liar circumstances of t c case. They did not break ;
him, but he was suspended, and Lord Wellington sent 1
him home to Englant . Almost every general officer in ‘
the army endeavored to get his sentence revoked, la-
menting the fate of a gallant fellow being sent away ,‘
fora slight error in wd ent while the army was in
hot action; but Lord 01 ington was inexorable, saying
he must make an example to secure himself in the Eer-
fect obedience of officers to their orders; and it ad
the eifect."

“ Well, that‘s what I call hardl” said Dick.

“My dear Dick," said the Squire, “ war is altogether
a hard thing, and a man has no business to be 0. Gen-
eral who isn‘t as hard as his own round shot."

 

 Vii-1-

tink I am very fine fellow—but Monsieur [Aide-JIqu
send for me and speak, ‘ Vere vos you last night, nairf’
‘ I mount guard by de mill.‘ ‘Are you sure i" ‘ 011i.
momielur.‘ ‘Vere vos ou ven your post vos nttacki‘
I saw it vos no use to any any longer, so I confess to
him rvggthing. ‘Sair,’ said he, ‘ ou rally your men
very m or you Should be shot! oung man, rciiiein-
lipr,‘ said he» will never f0 e_t his vorts—‘ young man,
fined: good—slip is goat—g w goat—(rut Iwnnerx in bet-
em.

“ A capital story, Randal,” cried Dick, “ but how
much of it (lid on invent?“

" ‘Pon my lift: it is as near the original as possible."

“ Besides, that is not a. fair way of using a story,‘
“ You should take a story as y ou gr.
inaiigling its
poor body todiscover the bit of embellishment; and
as longas a raconlem- maintains vrairemblanca, I con-
tcnd you are bound to receive the whole as true "

“ A most author—like creed, dootor," said Dick: “ you
are a story-teller yourself, and enter upon the defense
of your craft vn'th great 8 irit."

‘ And justice, too,“ sai the squire; “ the doctor is

quite right."
“.Don t sup ose I can’t see the little touches of the
artist," said o doctor; “but so long as they are in

keeping with the picture, I en‘oy them, for instance,
my friend Randals touch of t e Englishman ‘ darling
Got R e de King' is very happy—quite in character."

‘.‘ ell, good or bad, the story in substance is true,"
said Randal, “ and puts the Englishman in a fine oint

“And what became of the dear young man?" said i of view—a generous fellow sharing his supgcr wit i his

Father Phil, who seemed much touched by the readi-

encniy whose sword may through his ody in the

noss with which the dear young man set OR to mow 1 next morning‘s ‘atfair.’ '

down the French.

“I can tell
him ai'terwa in the Peninsula. 6 was let back after
a year or so. and became so thorough a disoiplinarian,
that he swore, when once he was at his post ‘They
might kill his other before his face and he wouldn t
budge until he nd orders."

“ A most Christian resolution,” said the doctor.

“Well, loan tell you,” said Moriarty, “of a French-
man, who made a greater breach of discipline, and it
was treated more leniently. I heard the story from the
man‘s own lips, and if I could only give you his voice
and gesture and manner it would amuse on. What
fellows those Frenchmen are, to be sum. or tellin a
story! they make a sh V
ferent meanings and their claws are most elo uent—
one might may] they talk on their fingers—an their
broken En 11 It ink, helps them.”

“Then ve t 6 story, Randal, in his manner," said
ave heard you imitate a Frenchman capi-

y.
“Well, here 5," said Moriarty; “ but let me wet
my whistle wi h a lass of claret before I be in—a
French story shoul have French wine." dial
tossed off one glass, and filled a second by way of re-
serve and then began the French officer‘s story.

" You see, sore, t vos ven in Espaym de bivouac vos
vairy ai-d indeet n us, vor ve coot naut et into de
town at all, nevair, becos on dam Inglish eep all do
town to yoursefs—ver ve all back at t time becos we
get no support—no corps de reserve, you perceive-so ve
mek retrograde movement—not retreat—no. no—hut
retrograde movement. Veil von night I was wit my
picket, guart, and it was raining like do devil, and de
vind vos vinding up de valley, so cold as noting at all,
and de dark vos vot you could not see—no—not your
nose bevore our face. Veil, I hear de tramp of horse,
and I look in de dark—for ve vex-e vairy moche on the
qui rim, because ve expec de Ingelish to attaque do
next day—but I see notui ; but do “9% of horse come
closer and closer and at t I ask, ‘ o is dere?’ and
de tram of de horse stop. I run forward, and den I
see Inge h o sir of cavalierle. I address him, and
tell him he is n our lines but I do not vant to mek himi
Erisonair—for you must 'now dat he so: prisonair. if I

ke, ven he vos vithin our line. He is very polite—he
say ‘ Bim ooliige—bon Want ;‘ and we tek off our hat to
one 0262‘. 1‘ eff lost my roat,‘ he say; and I say,
‘ Yais ’—but I vili put him into his roat, and so I ask for
a moment pardon, and go back to nigacaporal. and tell
him to be on de qui five till I come ck. De Ingelish
pffisair and me talk very plaisant vile ve go to easi-
down do leetel rant, and ven ve come to de turn, say,
‘Bon coir, Monsieur le Capitaine—dat is your vay,’ I e
den tank me, vera mocha like gentilman, and Vish he
coot mek me some return for . generosite. as he lease
to say—and I say, ‘ Bali I Inge gentilmgm Vood do do
sain11 c It? French offisaiW'i-Jvho lose bile vay- lDen (éoifne

ere, e as a , can you eave Your s or
‘ail’ an houi’d’ mam my post?’ I say. TYaIsP’ said
he, ‘ I know your army has not mocho provision lately
and maybe you are ongi-ie?‘ ‘Ma jm, yais.’ said I; I
afi' nnut all to my eyes nor meat to my stomach, for
more dan to da s.‘ ‘ Vell boa enfant,’ he say, ‘oomovis

me, and I vili g {on good supper, goot vine, and goot

velcome. ‘Coot leave my "tr I say. He sa
‘Bah.’ Comm! take care militia come back.’ y'1

or I coot naut resist—lie vasso val mocha gentilman
findI I vos so on 9—1 go via hinIJ‘y—not fife hunder
yarts—ali ./ ban how nice r In de corner of.a leetel

ruin chapel dere is nice bit of fire, and hang on a string , of Waterloo,” said Murp

before it do half of a kid—oh dell de smell of de roe-Mr
was so nice—I rub my hands to de fire—I sniif the
cuisine—I see in anozcr corner a couple bottles of wine
were! it vos all watain in my mouts} Ve sit down to
an sir—I nevair did ate so moche in my life. V_e did
flnlslh de bones, and vosh down all mid ve_r good Wine—-
excellent! Ve drink de toast—a la alerts—and ve talk of

de cam gn. Ve drink a old Fame, and den I tlnk of
la belle rice and ma dance amse—‘and he fisse ‘Got
safe do king.“ Ve den drink a ram“, and shek ands , as his eye caught

over dat fire in good fminship—dem two hands that i almost fainting, on the groun .

mi ht cross de swords in the morning. Yais sair datl
wag fine—‘twas gadiard—‘twas lacy-ad chirdlrie—‘two
sojair ennemi to share de same kid. drink de same

cu,“ said MoriartyIsl “for I served with ‘ marked the squire.

or a wink have twenty 'f- [

“ But the Frenchman was generous to him first," re-
v “ Certainly—4 admit it," said Randal. “ In short,
they were both flue fellows.“
r “ Oh, sir," said Father Phil, “the French are not de-
i flcient in a chivalrous spirit. I heard once a very
1 pretty bit of anecdote about the we they behaved to
i one of our regiments on a retreat in . pain."
i “ Your regunentsi" said Mo y, who was rather
} fond of hitting hard at a priest when he could; “a reg-
iment of friars, is it?"

“ No, captain, but of soldiers; and it‘s going through

, ’a river they were, and the French, taking advanta e of
1 their hel less condition, were peppering away at t em
hard an fast." '
“ Very generous indeed!” said Moriarty, laugh] .
“ Let me finish my story, captain, before you q it.

I say the were peppering them "sorely while they were
crossing he river, until some women—the followers of
the camp—ran down (poor creatures) to the shore, and
the stream was so (ice in the middle they could scarce-
ly ford it; so ome ra cons who were galloping as
hard as they could out o the fire, pulled up on seeing
the condition of the womenkind, and each horseman
took up a woman behind him though it diminished his
own ower of speeding from the danger. The moment
the nch saw this act of manly courtesy, they ceased
firing, gave the dragoons a cheer, and as long as the
women were within fimshot, not a tri ger in the French
' line, but volleys of c eers instead of ll-cartridge was
, sent after the brigade till all the women were over.
. Now wasn‘t that fiemust"
; “ 'l'l‘wns a me thing!” was the universal ro-

ninr .
i “ And faith I can tell you, Captain Moriarty, the
‘ army took advantagalof it; for there was a great

strug lc to have the p easure of the ladies” company
over t e river.”
I “ I dare say, Father Pb " said the squire, la hing.

“Thmth squire,“ said i e padre, “ 0nd of t egirls
as the soldiers have the reputation of being, they never
liked them better than tba same day."

“ Yes, es," said Moriarty, a little piqued, for he
rather a ected the “dare-devil," “I see you mean to
insinuate that we soldiers fear fire."

“ I did not any ‘fear,’ captain—but they’d like to get
out of it, for all that, and small blame to them—aren‘t
they flesh and blood like ourselves?“

“Not a hit like you ” said Moriarty. “You sleek and
smooth gentlemen w 0 live in luxurious peace know
little of a soldier‘s danger or feelings."

“Captain, we all have our dangers to 0 through;
and maybe a riest has as manyas a sol< er' and we
I anly ‘show a erence of taste, after all. in the selec-
on.

1 “ Well, Father Blake all I know is, that a true soldier
i fears nothing!" said lifoxinrt , with en .

I, “ Maybe so," answered Fat er Phil q etly.

| .“ It is uite clear, however,” said Murphy “ that war,
1 With all ts horrors, can call out occasion y the finer
i feelings of our naturesibut it is only such red aeming
, traits as those we have heard which can reconcile us to
| it. I remember having heard an incident of war, my-
‘ self, which affected me muc " who caught the lnfec.
I tion of military anecdote whic circled t e table; and
‘ indeed there is no more catching theme can be 51 arted
among men, for it may be remarked that whenever it
is broached it flows on until it is rather more than time

to go to the ladies.
‘ It was in the earlier rtion of that memoralzle day
, “that a young officer of the
Guards received a wound which brought him to the
ground. His companions rushed on to seize some point
which their des rate valor was called on to can y, and
he was left u terlfi unable to rise, for the wound
was in his foot. _e lay for some hours with the
thunder of that terrible day ringing around him, and
many a rush of horse and foot had passed close beside
him. Towards the close of the day he saw one of the
Black Brunswick draioons approaching, who drew rein
t e youn Guardsman, pale and
He alighted, and find-
assisted him to rise.

 

in he was not mortally wound

llf‘ted him into his saddl antfdl‘ielped to supfirt him
there while he walked si 9 him to the Eng rear.
The Brunswicker was old man; his brow and mous-

 

Wme, and talk like two friends. Veil, I got den so

3160 dot in e es oblink blink, and my t friend
sayspié me, ‘gleeyp, o d fellow; 1 imow ou got hard .
fare of late, and on are tired; sleep, is quiet for to. ,u

night, and I call you bef0re dawn. Veil, sail-Hi
in de night de ickets of do two arnue at so close, 3
and mix up, do some shot gets fired. 8-D in one mo-q
ment all in confusion. I am shake by de shoulder—L
wake like from dream—I heard sharpfitslllada—myj
friend cry, ‘Fly to your (Post, it is attackl’ We ex-,
chancfi one shek of de han , and I run oi! to my (fast.
Oh, .’—it is driven in-I see data fly. Oh, man emu
r a as moment-la! Iain ruin-deahonore—I rushto
do front—I rally mes bravurve standl—ve advance! 1
ve regain deposti i l—I am safe! 1 ii Defmillads cease
-—itisonlyanaflsir of outposts. I this I am‘ Info—II

 

".—

tache were grey; des ' was in his sunken eye, and
from time to time he looked u with an expression of
the deepest yearning into the ace of the young soldier.
who saw big tears rolling down the veterans cheek
while he gazed upon him. ‘You seem in bitter sorrow

my kind frien ' said the  ‘No wonder,

answered the 01 man, with a no ow  ‘ I and my
three boys were in the same regimen they were alive
the morning of Ligpy—I am childless today. But I
have revenged them. he said fiercely and as he spoke
he held out his sword, which was literal] red with
blood. ‘ But, oh! that will not brmg' me back fiy boyll’

he exclaimed, rein into his sorrow. ‘ y three
gallant boysl'—and he wepggitterly till clearing
washcm‘thetears, and 100 3 up tn the young

 

 

)7;

‘1

No. 9.

Handy Andy.

 

soldier’s handsome face, he said tenderly, ‘ You are like
giydyopngest one, and I could not let you he on the
e .

Even the rollicking Mu hy‘s eyes were moist as he
recited this anecdote; an as for Father Phil, he was
quite melted, ejaculatin iii an under tone, “Oh, my
poor fellow! my poor fel ow l"

“ So there,” said Murphy, “ is an example of a man,
with revenge in his heart and his right arm tired with
slaughter, suddenly melted into gentleness by a. re-
semblance to his child." .

“ ’Tis very touching, but very sad," said the Squire.

“ 1in dear sir," said the doctor, with his peculiar
dryness, “sadness is the princi al fruit which warfare
must ever produce. You may alk of glory as long as
you like, but you cannot have your laurel Without your
cypress, and though you may select certain bits of
sentiment out of a mass of horrors, if you allow me, I
will give you one little story which shan’t keep you
long, and will serve as a commentary upon war and
glory in general.

“At the peace of 1803, I happened to be traveling
throu h a town in France where a certain count I knew
i-esid I waited u on him, and he received me most
cordially, and invite me to dinner, I made the excuse
that I was only en route, and supphed With but travel-
ing costume, and therefore not fit to resent myself
amongst the guests of such a house ashis. He assured
me I should only meet his own family, and pledged
himself for Madame la Comtesse being willing to waive
the ceremony of a grdnde toilette. I went to the house
at the appointed hour, and as I passed through the hall
I cast a glance at the diningl-room and saw a very lon
table laid. On arrivmg at t e reception-room, I taxe
the count with having broken faith with me, and was
about inakin my excuses to the countess when she
assured me t 6 count had dealt honest] by me, for
that I was the only guest to join the amin party.
Well, we sat down to dinner, threevand-twenty persons;
myself, the count and countess and their twenty clizl-
dren! and a more lovely family never saw; he a man
in a. vigor of life, she a still attractive woman, and these
their offspring hning the table, where the hap eyes
of father and mother glanced with pride and. a. ection
from one side to the other on these future stairs of
their old age. Well, the peace of Amienswas of short
duration, and I saw no more of the count till Napoleon s
abdication. Then I visited’ France again, and saw my
old friend. But it was a sad Sight, sir, in that same
house, where, little more than ten years before, I had
seen the bloom and beauty of twenty children, to sit
down with three—all he had left him. lfiis sons had
fallen in battle—his daughters had died widowed, leav-
in but orphans. And thus it was all over France.
Wide the public voice shouted "Glory 1’ wailing was in
her homes. Her temple of Victory was filled With
trophies, but her hearths were made desolate."

‘ Still, air, a true soldier fears nothing, ' repeated
Moriart . I , “ ,

“Bahia-shin," said Father Phil. Faith I have been
in laces of da er, you’d be glad to get out of, lean
to on, as boul as you are. captain.”

“ ou’ll pardon me for doubting you, Father Blake,"
said Moriarty, rather huffe’ . _

“ Faith then you wouldn is like to be where I was be-
fore I came here; that is, in a mud cabin, where I was
giving the last rites to six people dying in the typhus

over.” ..

“T hus!" exclaimed Mpriart , growuig pale, and
instinycltlvely withdrawi his chai; as far as he could
from the padre beside w om he sat. H

“ Ay, typhus, sir; most inveterate typhus. “

“Gracious Heaven!” said Moriarty, sing, how can

on do such a dreaélfui7 thing as run the risk of bearing
infection into socie l a .

“ Ithought soldier}; were not afraid of an hing, ’ said
Father Phil, laughing at him; and the res oflthe party
joined in the merriment. I .

“Fairly hit, Moriarty," said Dick.

“Nonsense,” said Moriarty; “when I spoke of dan-
ger, I meant such open danger as—in short, not such
insidious lurking abomination as infection; for I con-
tend that—"

“ Say no more Randal,” said Growling, “ you’re
done !—Father Phil has floored you.“

“I deny it," said Moriarty, warmly; butthe more he
denied it, the more every one laughed at him. " _

“ You’re more frightened than hurt, Moriarty, said
the ’s uire; “for t e best of the joke is, Father. Phil
wasn' in contact with typhus at all, but was riding
with me—and ’tis but a joke.

Here they all roared at Moriarty, who was excessive-
1 angry, but felt himself in such a ridiculous position
that he could not quarrel With anybody. “

“ Pardon me, my dear Ca tam, sai the Father; I
only‘ wanted to show you t at a pix-lest hasto run the
risk of his life ust as much as t o boldest soldier of
them all. But on’t you think. squire, tis time to join

the ladies? I’m sure the tay will be tired waiting for to
vs.”

 

CHAPTER

Mus. EGAN was e ed
Fanny turning over gingeafeaves of a music-book, and oc-

- casionall humming some bars of her favorite song, as

the out man came into the drawing-room. Fanny
rose rom the pianoforte as they entered. “

“ 0h. Dawson," exclaimed Moriarty, why tan-
talize us so much asto let us see you seated in that
glance where you can render so much dehght, only to

ave it as we enter ‘ ,

Faun turned off the captain‘s flourishing speech
with a ew lively words and a smile, and took her seat
at the tea-table to do the honors. “ .

“The captain," said Father Phil to the doctor, 18

e uall at in love or war.“
(“Add own as little of one as the other,” said the
doctor. “ His attacks are too open.”

“And therefore easily foiled,” said Father PhiL
“ How that rett creature with the turn of a, word
and a. curl 0 her p, upset him that time! Oh! what
a powerful thing a woman’s smile is, doctor? Loften
Congranilate in self that my calling puts all such mun-
dane follies an attractions out of my Way, when I see
and know what fools wise men are sometimes made by
Silly girls. 011', it is fearf doctor; tho h, of course,
gram .3! the, mysterious pensation 0 An all-wise

0v1 ence. _

“ That fools should have the mastery, is it?” in uired
the doctor, drily, with a mischievous query in eye

w

as
“Tu tut tu doctor " re lied Father Phil, im
amtltygu“y5u kti'itgw well enoghgh vghét Iofiefiefifi
On‘ ow on 6 me on ‘
bottles of woyrds. 1% of that wondirfui influonc

XXXHI. '
in ome needlework, and 5

 

‘39

 

of the weaker sex over the stronger, and how the word
of a ros lip outwe hs sometimes the resolves of a
fun-owe brow; and ow the—pooh! iooh! I’in mak-
ing a fool of myself talking to you—bu to make a long
story shOit, I would rather wrantle out a logical dis uto
any day, or a tough argument of one of the fat iers,
than refute some absurdity which fell from a pretty
mouth with a smile on it."

“ Oh I quite agree With you,“ said the doctor. grin-
ning, ‘ that the fathers are not half such dangerous
customers as the daughters."

“ Ah, go along With you. doctor!" said Father Phil
with a. good-homered laugh. “ I see you are in one 0
your mischievoms moods, and so I‘ll have nothing more

0 say to on.”

The Fat or turned awa to join the Squire, while the
doctor took a seat near anny Dawson and en 'oved a
quiet little bit of conversation with her, while oriarty
was turning over the leaves of her album: but the
brow of the ca tain, who affected a taste in poetry be-
came knit and is_lip assumed a contemptuous cur , as
he perused some lines, and asked Fanny whose was the
com osition.

“ lpforget,” was Fanny’s answer.

“ I don't wonder," said Moriarty; “the author is not
worth remembering. for they are ve rough.”

Fanny did not seem pleased with Ifile criticism, and
said,that, when sung to the measure of the air written
down on the o pos1te page, they were very flowing.

“ But the prinCipal hrase, the ‘ rq/‘rdz‘n,’ I ma say,
is so vulgar, ’ added oriarty, returning to the c argo.
“ The gentleman says, ‘ What would ou do?’ and the
ladyt answers, “ That‘s what I’d do. 0 you call that
poo r .“

“ I don’t call that dpoetry,”' said Fanny, with some
emphasis on the wor .; “ but if you connect those two
phrases with what is intermediately written and read
all in the spirit of the entire of the verses, I think there
is poetry in them—but if not poetry, certainly feeling."

' Can you tolerate ‘ That’s what I’d do’ P—the pert
answer of a housemaid.”

“ A phrase in itself homely,” answerel Fanny, “may
become elevated by the use to which it is applied."

“ Quite true, Miss Dawson,“ said the doctor, joining
in the discussmn. “ But what are these lines which ex-
cite Randal’s ire?" _

_ “Here they are,” said Moriarty. “I will read them,
if yiou allow me, and then judge between Miss Dawson
an me.

‘ What will you do, love when I am cing,
With whit'lehsai flovgmg,
e seas 2 0nd?
What will you do, love, when ’ ” y

“Stop thief‘!—-stop thief!” cried the doctor. “Why,
you are robbing the poet of his reputation as fast as
you can. You don‘t attend to the rhythm of those
ines—you don’t ive the ringln of the verse.”

“That’s 'ust w at I have d in other words," said
Fanny. “ en sung to the melody, they are smoot ."

“ but a (good reader, Miss Dawson, ‘3 said the doctor,
“_Wili rea verse with theproper accent, ust as a mu-
Sician would divide it into bars; but my riend Randal
there, although he can tell a good story and hit oi!
prose very well, has no more notion of rhythm or
poetry than new beer has of a holiday."

d “ A‘I'Jd why, pray, has not new beer a notion of a boil-
a ‘r

‘yBecause, sir, it works of a Sunday."

“ Your beer ma. be new, doctor but yourjoke is not—
I have seen it be ore in some old orm."

“Well, sir, if I found it in its old form, like ahare,
and started it fresh it may do for folks to run after as
well as anything 8 But you sha‘n’t escape our
misdemeanor in inauling those verses as you ave
done, by finding fault with my joke redevivua. You

 

read those lines, sir, like a bellman, without any atten-

tion to meter."

“ To be sure,” said Father Phil, who had been listen- to

ing for some time; “ they. have a ring in them—"

‘ Like a. pig’s nose ” said the doctor.

“Ah, be aisy," said Father Phil. 3‘ I say they have a
ring in them like an owld Latin canticle—

‘ What will on do love, when I am 0- ‘
y ’ With white sailgla‘wnfiiig,
The says be-mmd 2’
That's it!" *

“ To be sure," said the doctor. “I vote for the
Father’s reading them out on the spot.”
“Pray do, Mister Blake," said Fanny.
“Ah. Miss Dawson, what have I to do with reading
love verses?"
" Take the book, sir,” said Growling, “ and show me
on have some faith in your own sayings, by obeying a
dy directly.”
“ Pooh! pooh!" said the riest.
“You won’t refuse me ‘ said Fanny in a coaxing
no.
“ M dear Miss Dawson " said the padre.
“thlm' Phil!” said Faun , with one of her rosy
mil

es.
“Oh, wow! wow! wow!" 6 acuiated the priest, in an
amusing embarrassment, “ see on will make me do

whatever you like.” So Father hil ave the rare ex- to

ample of a man acting up to his own t eory, and could
not resist the demand that came from_ a prett mouth.
He took the book and read the lines With muc feeling

but with an observance of rhythm 80 grotesque. that i

must be given in his own manner.

WHAT WILL YOUDO, LOVE!

I.
“ Who. love, when I am go-ing,
t W you do’With' white sail flaw- ,
w l TheieaSbevyes am.
e w en wa us,
t W you “$35 friends may chide us,
For being fond?" ,
“ di ide us, and friends he chi-ding,
Though waves {Ln {gun arwdmg,
’ll itiil €36 true;
And ' thee on t as oriny o-cean
n pray for In deep demotion — ’
That’s what r‘u do!”

n.
u do love, if distant ti-di
What would y?“ Thy fond com/l ‘ n88
, tEhOIiliid ungeeem no;
And mm nea su r a ,
I Should thinkyother eye:
Were as bright as thine!”

 

 

“ 0h, name it not ; though guilt and shame
Were on thy name,
I’d still 6 true;
But that heart of thine, should another E'le it,
I could not bear it;
What would I do P“

III. ‘

“ What would you do, when, home re-tilm-lng,
With hopes high bum-ing,
With wealth for y0u~
If my bar/t, that bound-ed o‘er foreign foam,
Should be lost near home,
. Ah, what would you do?"
“ So thou wert war-ed, I’d bless the mar-row,
In want and sow-row,
That left me you ;
And I’d welcome thee from the wasting bit-low-
My heart thy il-low!
Tiia'r's to at I‘d do!“

“ Well done, padre I" said the doctor; " with good
emphasis and discretion."

‘j And now, in dear Miss Dawson,“ said Father Phil,
“ Since I’ve rea the lines at our high bidding, will you
sin them for me at my hum le asking?"

“ ery antithetically put, indeed,“ said Fanny; “ but
you must excuse me. ‘

“ You said there was a tune to it?"

f‘ Yes; but! promised Captain Moriarity to sing him
this," said Fanny, gong over to the pianoforte. and
laying her hand on an open music book.

f ‘tT anks, Miss Dawson,” said Moriarty, following
as .

Now, it was not that Fanny Dawson liked the ca tain
that she was going to sing the song; but she thong t he
had been rather “ mobbed ’ by the doctor and thc padre
about the reading of, the verses, and it was her good
breeding which made her pay this little attention to the
worsted part . She poured forth her swuet voice in a
Simple mel y to the following words:

SAY NOT MY HEART IS COLD.

i.
“ Sag not my heart is cold,
ecause of a silent ton ei

The lute of faultless mo d

In silence oft hath hung.
The fountain soonest spent

Doth babble down the steep;
For the stream that ever went

Is silent, strong, and deep.

II.

“ The charm of a secret life /

Is given to choic st things:

0f flowers the fr rance rife
Is waftc on viewless wings;

We see not the charmed air
Bearing some Witching sound;

And ocean deep is where
The pearl of price is found.

III. I

“Where are the stars by day?
They burn, though all unseen!
And love of purest ray
like the stars, I ween:
Unmark’d l the cutie i ht
When the suns inc of oy appears.
But ever, in sorrow’s nig t,
’del glitter upon thy tears l”

“Well Randal, does that poem satisf our critical
taste? 6! the singing there can be but oieyopmioii."
Yes, I hink it pretty," said Moriarty; “ but there is
one word in the last verse I object to.”
“ Which is that?" inquired Growling.
‘z‘WeenP said the other; “ ‘ the stars, I ween,‘ I object

“Don’t on see the meaning of that?" in uired the
doctor. ‘ I think it is a very hapr allusion}A
“I out see an allusion wha ever," said the critic.
Don 1: you see he poet alluded to the stars in the
milk way, and says, herefore, ‘The stars I wean 21'”
“ ah! bah! doctor," exclaimed the critical ca tain‘
"gen are in one of your quizzing moods to-nigh , and
in vain to c act aserious answer from you." He
tuitned on his has as he spoke, andwent away.
Moriarty, you know, Miss Dawson is a man who
affects a horror of puns, and therefore I always wish
him with as many as I can," said the doctor, w 0 Was
left by Moriarty's sudden pique to the enjoyment of a
Bleasant chat with Fanny and he was sorry when the
our arrived which disturbed it by the breaking up of
the party and the departure of the guests.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Warm the Widow Roone was forcibly ejected from
the house of Mrs. James asey. and found that Andy
was not the possessor of that lady‘s chm-ms. 8110 905‘“
off to Neck-or—Not Hall to hear the true account of
the transaction from ndy himself. On arriving at the
old iron gate, and pull the loud bell, she was spoken
to through the bars by e savage old janitor and told
“go out 0’ that.” Mrs. Rooney thought fate Was
using her hard in decreeing she was to receive denial
at every door, and endeavored to obtain a parley with
the ate-keeper, to which he seemed no way inclined.

“Tfi' name 5 Rooney, sir!"

f‘ ere's plenty bad 0' the name," was the civilro-

jomder.

“ And son's in Squire O’Grad ‘5 service, sir.” .

“Oh—firm the mother of 6 beauty we call
Heist: ‘

“ Well, he left the service yistherday.” .

*No'rii m m Tami: Emmott—The forsgoin dia-
10 no and Moriart ’s captions remarks were ngeant,
w on the a.ng the first edition, ass. hit at a. cer-
tain smaK c c——s

would-be song Writer—who does ill-
natured articles for the Reviews, and expressed himself
very contemptuouSiy 01 my songs because of their sim-

ucit ; or, as he was pleased to phrase it. “I beds
Mot putfllfi common mi 3 ether." Theron:
was writtento ustrate my be of t t the most com-
mon-place expression. amropriatd a plied, may suc-
cessfully serve the purposes of the%; and here or
rience has pr0ved me right for this very songhot
‘ What wiliyon do?" (containing within it the 0
common- lace, “That’s what I do ”) has bee
ceived special favor by the public when; long-con-
tinned oodwill toward my camped on: g
acknowledge . ~,

 

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»activo dut ', am after four-and-twenty hours had pass—

40

“ Is it lost the place?"
.. Yis u

” Oh dear! All, sir, let me up to the house and spnko ‘
to his honor, and maybe he'll take back the boy.“ 

“ He doesn‘t want any more servants at all—for he’s I
dead.“

" Is it St hire O’Grady dead?“ A

" Ave—(lid i never hear of a dead squire before?“ l

“ What did iii: (lie of, sir?" . _ 3

“ Find out," said the sulky brute, walking back into ‘
his den. i

It was true—the ronowned O‘Griidy was no more. i
The t‘cvcr which had set in fr in his “ broiled bones,"
which he would have i spite of anybody,
was found difficult of abatement; and the im-
possibility of keeping him quiet, and his fits of pas—
sion, and consequent fresh supplies of “ broiled bones,”
rendered the malady unmanageable; and the very day
after Andy had left the house’the fever took a bad turn,
and in four-and-twenty hours the stormy O‘Grady was
at‘geace.

hat a sudden change fell upon the housel All the

weddin parapcrnaiia which had been brought down i
lay nefected in the rooms where it had been the ob-
ject o the preceding day‘s admiration. The deep, ab—
sorbin . silent grief of the wife—the more audible sor-
row 0 the girls—the subdued wildness of the reckless
boys, as they trod silently past the chamber_where they
no longer might dread i‘eproof for their nmse—all tins
was less touching than tic effect the event had upon
the old dowager mother. While the senses of Others
were stunned by the blow, hers became awakened by
the shock; all her absm'd aberration assed away and
she sat in intellectual self-possession y the Side 0 her
son‘s death»de which she never left until he was laid
in his coffin. ewes the first and last of her sons.
She had now none but grandchildren to look upon—
the intermediate eneratiou had passed away, and the
flap yawned fea ully before her. It restored her, for i
the time, ierfectly to her senses; and she gave the
necessary directions on the melancholy occasion, and
superintcndecl all the sad ceremonials befitting the
time, with a calm and dignified res1gnation which im-
pressed all around her with wonder and respect.
bu Jeradded to the dismay which the death of
the iiead of a family produces was the terrible fear
which existed that O Grady’s body would be seized for
debt—a barbarous practice, which, shame to.say, is
still permitted. This fear made great precaution ne-
cessary to reveiit persons ap roachin the house, and
accounts for the extra 1 ness of he gate porter.
The wild body- ard of t e wild chief was on doubly

cul over t e reckless boys, the interest they took in
sharing and directin this watch and ward seemed to
outweigh all sorrow ul consideration for the death of
their father. As for Gustavus, the conscwusness of
being now the master of Neck—or—Nothing Hall was
apparent in a boy not yet fifteen; and not only in him-
:Vcll', hut in the gray-headed retainers about him,
this might be seen: there was'a shade more of de-
l’nrcnro—tlie boy was merged in “the young mas-tar."
liut we must leave the house of mourning for the
pit-sent. and follow the Widow Rooney, who, as she
trumped her way homeward, was increasmg “1.11146-
:uimcss of visage every hour. Her nose was twice its
usual dimensions, and one eye was perfectly useless. in
rhowing her the road. At last, however as evening
was closing, she reached her cabin, an: there was
Andy, arrived before her, and telling Oonah, his cousin,
all his misadventures of the recediii day.

The history was sto‘plied or a whi e b their mutual
explanations and con 0 once with Mrs. oney, on the
“ cruel wa her poor face was used.”

“ And w o done it all?“ said Oouah.

“ Who but that born divil,Matt Dwyer—andsure they
towld me you were married to er.” said she to Andy.

“ So I was," said Andy, beginning the account of his
misfoitunes afresh to his mother, who from time to
time would break in with indiscriminate maledictions
on Andy, as well as his forsworn damsel: and when the
account was ended, she poured out a torrent of abuse
upon her unfortunate forsaken son, which riveted him
to the floor in utter amazement.

“I thought I’d get pit here, at all events." said or
Andy; “ but instead 0’ t t it's the worst word an the
hardest name in your jaw you have for me."

“ And sarvo you right, on dirty cur," said his
mother. “I ran 011 like a 001 when I heerd of your
good fortune, and see the condition that baggage left
me in—my teeth knocked in and my eye knocked out,
and all for your fooiery, because you couldn’t keep
what. you got.“ V

“ Sure mother, I tell you—”

" How d your tongue, you omadhaunl And then I go
to S ulre O‘Grady s to look for you, and there I
you 0st that lace too.“ ‘

“ Faix it‘s ttle loss," said Andy.

“ That s all you know about it you goose- you lose the
place just when the man‘s dead and you‘d have had a }
shuit o’ mournin‘. Oh, you are the most misfortunate
divil, Andy Rooney, this day in Ireland—why did 1 rear I

1

 

on at all?”
y “ Squire O’Grady deadl" said Andy, in surprise, and
also with to t for his late master. ,
“ Yis—an you‘ve lost'the ISTI‘EID ——augh l”
“ Oh, the r uire. sai n y.
“ The Hurrah);1 nesig clothes !” grumbled Mrs. Rooney.
" And then luck tumbles in your wa such as man never
had; without a place, or a rap to less yourself with,
ou‘get a rich man’s daughter for your Wife, and you
t her slip through your-fin ers.”
“ How could I hel it?" said And .
“ A hl—youbot ered the job {ust the way you do
evcrvt ing,"*sa.id his mother.
“ are I was civil-spoken to her."
“ A h i“ said his mother. .
“ took no liberty.”
“ You goose 1“
“And called her miss."
“ Oh, indeed you missed it al ether.”
" And said I wasn’t desarvin 0 her."
“ That was thine—but you should not have (mold her so.
fiikake a woman think you’re betther than her, and she‘ll
e on.
“ d sure, when I ondayvoured to make myself
agmeabie to her—"

“ Mag/toured!" ingested the old woman contemptu-
ously. " Endaywure , indeed! Why didn't you make
ourseif agreeable at once, you oor dirty goose?~1no
but you went sneaking about it— know as well as if I
was lookin at
until the gir too t to you; {or there’s nothing

hear afford

ou- on went sneakiu‘ and snivelin’ proper
a dggus

H... A; n "" "”“‘—-‘.7;”‘ 2:" "' " ’—“T‘;‘~’ ' v

a ‘The New York Library.

“0h, indeed you’re hettlier at doflnce than attack,”
said his mother.

“ Sure, the first little civil‘ty I wanted to pay to her,
she took up the tlU'ce-legged stool to me." .

“ The divil mend youl And what civil’ty did you
offer her?"

“I made a grab at her cap, and I thought she‘d have
.hraincd me.“

Oonali set up such a shout of laughter at Andy’s no-
tion of civility to a girl that the conversation was
stopped for some time, and her aunt rcmonstraicd
wit 1 her at her want of common sense; or, as she said,

7 hadn’t she “ more decency than to laugh at the poor

fool’s nonsense?”

” What could I do agen the three-legged‘ school?"
said Andy.

“ Where was your own legs, and your own arms, and
your own eyes, and your own tongue Y—eh‘t"

“ And sure I tell you it was all really conthrived, and
James Casey was sent for, and came.”

“ Yis,” said the mother, “but not for a long time, you
towld me yourself; and what were you doing all
that time? Sure, supposing you we;- only a now ac-
quaintance, any man worth a day’s mate would have
i iscoorsed her over in the time and made her sinsible
he was the best of husbands."

“ I tell you she wouldn’t let me have her ear at all,"
said Andy.

" Nor her ca either,” said Oonah, laughing.

“ And then . im Casey keni."

“ And Wh did on let him in?"

“ It was 8 it: let im in, I tell you."

“ And why did you let her? He was on the wrong
side of the door—that’s the outside; and you on the
right—that‘s the inside; and it was your house, and she
was your wife, and you were her masther, and on bad
the rights of the church, and the rights of the aw, and

, all the rights on your side; barrin‘ right rayson— that

you never had; and sure without that, what‘s the use of
all the other rights in the world?"

“ Sure, hadn t he his friends, sthrtmg, outside?"

“ No mattlier if the door wasn‘t o rened to them, for
Men YOU would have had a stronger riend than any 0’
them resent amon them."

“ o? inquired ndy.

“ The hangman,” answered his mother; for breaking
doors is hanging matter; and I say the presence of the
hanginan’s always before peo le when they have such
a. Job to do, and makes them t ink twice sometimes bes
fore they smash once: and so you hadonly to keep one
woman’s hands uiet.”

“ Faix, some 0 them would smash a. door as soon a-
not,” said Andy.

“ Well. then, you’d have the satisfaction of hanging
them," saidflthe mother, “and that would be some con-
solation. But even as it is, I‘ll have law for it.——-I will—
:for the property is ours, anyhow, though the girl is
gone—and indeed a razen baggage she is, and is
mighty heavy in the hand. 0b, in poor e e!—it,s like
a coal of fire—but sure it was wort he ris ' living with
her for the sake of the purty progeny. And sure I was
thmkin' what a pleasure it woul be liw’ with you,
and tac 11' your wife housekeepin‘, and ringing up
the on turkeys and the chik hre~but, och hone,
you ll never do a bit 0’ good, £011 that got sitch careful

ringin' ii , Andy Rooney! idn’t I tache you man-
ners, you, irty han inbone blackguard‘.l Didn‘t I tache
you 'our blessed re igionP—niay the (livil sweep you!
Did ever prevent you from sharing the lavings of the
pratees with the pig? and didn’t you often clane out the

t with him? an you’re no good afther all? I’ve

urned my honest penny by the pig, but I’ll never make
in money of you, Andy Rooney!"
ere were some minutes silence after this eloquent
outbreak of Andy’s mother which was broken at last
by Andy uttering a long sigh and an ejaculation.
“Och? it’s a fine thi ‘to be agintlcman," said Andy.
“ Cock you up!” said mother. “ Maybe it’s agin-

tleman you want to be; what puts that in your head, ‘

you mad/Lawn?”

“Why, because a. gintleman has no hardships com-
pared with none of uz. Sure if a 'ntleman was mar-
ried, his wife wouldn‘t be tuk 03 mm him the way
mine was.”

“ Not so soon, maybe " said the mother, drily‘.

“ And if a 'intleman breaks a horse’s he rt, e‘s only
a ‘bowld ri er,‘ while a poor sarvant is a ‘ careless
blackguard’ for onl taking asweat out of him. If a

'ntleman dhrinks ' he can‘t see a hole in a. laddber,

e’s only ‘ raw-but ‘ dhrtmk’ is the word for a cor
man. An lfa ‘intleman kicks ii arow, he’s a fine
sperited fellow while a. poor man a ‘ disorderly vaga-
bone' for the . me; and the Justice axos‘the one to
dinner and sends th‘ other to jail. 0h, faix, the law is
a. daint lady: she takes people by the band who can
_wear gloves, but people With brown fists must
keo their distance.”

" often remark,” said his mother, “that fools spake
mighty sinsible betimes; but their wisdom goes with
their gab. Why didn't on take a betthcr grip of your
luck when you hadit? ou’re wishing you won a 'inua.
man, and yet when you had the best partof ajint .enian
(the property, I mane) put into your way, you let it slip
through your fingers; and afther lettin' it allow take a
rich wife from you and turn you out of your own
house you sit down on a stool there, and begin to wish
indeed l—you sneakin’ fool—wish, indeedl Ochl if you
wish with one hand, and wash with th’ other, which
will be clane first—eh ?"

“ What could I do agen eight?“ asked And .

“Why did you let them in, I say again? ’ said the
mother, quickly]: . ‘ .
i‘t‘suro the b me wasn’t with me, ’ said Andy, “but
w —— ‘ ‘
“Whisht, whisht, you goo-cl" said his mother. "Av
ou’ll blame every one and everything but
yoursol —‘ The losing horse blames the saddle. ”_

11, maybe its all for the batten” Bald Andy,
“aftherha‘liin 1d t l"
ow our 0 e

“ n if it wasnyt to boilfigw could it be?”

:Iiisiie‘iiié’ Tim!” is an"

' n vi ence over us

f‘Ohl yisl" said the mother. “When fools make
mistakes the lay the blame on Prowddnce. How have
you the impi ence to talk 0’ Providence in that man-
ner? I‘ll tell you where the Providence was. Provi-
dence sent you to Jack Dwyer’s and kelp Jim Casey
away, and ut the anger into owl Jack’s eai't—Tthat’s
what the vidence did l—and made the opening for
you to spake up. and gave on awife—a Wife with
ty.’ Ah, there’s where t 6 Providence was—and
ygioi were the masther of a sn house—that was

vulencel And wouldn’t myself ave been the one

 

I woman despises so much as shiny-shall ' g.”
“ Sure, you won’t hear my deduce,“ sai Andy.

-

 

 

to be helping you in the farm—rearing the powlts,

 

 

 

 

milkin‘ the (wow, niakin’ tlu- illigmit hutlhcr, with
laviiigs of butiherniilk i‘orilic pigs» the sow lhriving
and the cocks and hens chcerimr your heart with their
g‘iickliii‘~-tlio hank o‘ yarn on t c. wheel, aiida bank of
ingins up the chimbley--ohl there’s where the ProVi-
denco would have been—t hat would have been Pym-Mame
inflow—dint never tell me that Providence turned you
out of the house; that was your own qoktlwm/mf [2."

“ Can’t he take the law 0’ them, aunt?" inquired
Oonah.

“ To be sure he can—and
mother. “ I’ll be off to ’torne
I’ll pursue her for my eye, and
and I‘ll ut them all in chanccry. the villains.‘

“It’s cwgaic they ought to be put in,” said Andy.

“Tut,you fool, Chancery is worse than Newgale; it»
people sometimes get out of Newgate, but they never
got I ' ' of Chancery, I hear."

._‘ Uzi-S. Rooney spoke, the latch of the door was
mm :1, and a miserably clad woman entered, closed the
door immediately after her, and placed the bar against
it. The action attracted tlicativntion of alltho inmates
of the house, for the doors of the peasantry areuni-
yersally “left on the latch,“ and ncwr secured against
intrusmn until the family go to bed. '

“God save all hcrel‘ said the woman, as she ap
proacth the fire

“0h, is that on, ragged Nance?“ said Mrs. Boone ;
for that was t c uneiiviable but dom-ri itivo title t o
now-comer was known by; and though s e knew it for
her wubnquel, yet she also knew M rs. Rooney would
not call her by it if she were not in an ill temper, so
she began humth to explain the cause of her Visit.
when Mm. Rooney broke in gmfl‘ly:

_ “Oh, you always make outagood ra son for comv
mg; but we have nothing for you to-nighii.”

‘ ‘roth, you do me wrong ‘ said the beggar, “if you
think I came shading! It s only to keep‘harni from
the innocent girl here.”

“Arrah, what harm would happen her, woman i" re-
turned the Widow, sava ely, rendered more inorose by

shrill, too,” said the
Min hy io-morrow;
iidy or the property,

the humble bearing of icr against whom she directed ’

her severity; as if she got more angry the less the pom
creature would give her cause to justify her harshness.
“ Isn’t she undher my roof here?“

“But how long may she be left there?" asked the

woman, si ii’icantly.

“What i. 0 on mane woman?"

f‘lltrriane ere’s a plan to carry her off from you to-
n .

onah grew pale with true terror, and the widow
screeched, after the more approved manner of elderly
ladies making believe they are veiy much shocked, till
Nance reminded her t crying would do no good, and
that it was requisite to make some preparation against
the approaching danger. Various plans were hastil
suggested, and as hastily relinquished, till Nance 
Vised a measure which was deemed the best. It was to
dress And in feninle attire and let him be carried off
in place 0 the girl. And roared with laughter at the
notion of being made a lof, and said the trick wouid
instantly be seen throng .

_“ Not ‘ifyou act your part well; just keg)» down the
giggle, Jewel, and put on a moderate [iii dew, and do

e thing nice and steady, and you’ll be the sa\ ing or
yo‘m} cousin h3re.’j th m th h

‘ oil. may eceive em wi e (1 ions, and I ma
do a‘hit of a small shilloo, like a colleen in distress, amyi
thut_s all very well,” said Andy, “ as far as seeing and
hearing goes; but when they come to grip me, sure
they‘ll find out in a minute."

“ We’ll stuff you well with rags and sihraw, and
they’ll never know the differabemdes, remember, the
fellow that wants a girl never comes for her himself 1
but sends his friends for her, and they won‘t know the
differ—besides, they are all dhrunk."

“ How do you know?"

“Because they‘re always dhrunk~— that same crew
and if they're not dlirunk to-night, it’s the first time ii:
their lives they were ever sober. So make haste, now,
and put off your coat, till we make a purty young col-
leen out 0‘ you."

It occurred now to the widow that it was a service
of at dangler Andy was called on to erfonn; and
wit all her a _use of ‘f omadlmun,” she did not like the
notion of putting him in the way of losing his life, per-

a .
‘ They‘ll muidher the ho , ma be when the find
out the chaté,“ said the vvidon. y ’ y .
“ Not a bit," said Nance.
“And sup sethey did," said Andy, “I‘d rather die
sure than t e disgrace should fall u n Oonah, there.“
“dod bless mi Andy dear!" as. d Oonah. " Sum,
you have the ' d heart, anyhow; buthouldn’t for
the vgorld hurt or harm shoul come to you on my ac.
coun .“ .
“Oh don’t be afeardl“ said Andy, cheerily; “divil
a hair value all they can do; so dhress me u at once.‘
After some more 0 ‘ections on the rtof ' mother,
which Andy overrule the women a joined in making
up Andy into as tempting an imitation of femininity as
the could contrive; bu to bestow the roundness of
out 'ne on the Angular form of Andy was no eas mat-
ter, and required more rags than the house afforded, so
some straw was indispensable, which the pig’s bed only
could supply. In the midst of their fears, the woman
could not cl laugh: asthey effected some likeness
to their own urn-is wit their stuffing and padding; but
to carry off the Wi th of Andy's shoulders required a
we ample and yoluptuous outline indeed, and Andy
d 0 help Wishing the straw was a. little sweeter
which they were packing under his nose. At last, how-
ever af‘ r scoping down his stra gling haii on ht:
fOl‘ei‘Cuu, zind tying a. bonnet upon fins head to shade

his face as Blue as possible, the d‘ was compiet
oz. and the L. xt move was to put 00 in a. place oi

" et .
“ at u on th h

thatch," sgid Nmece. “fine in the comm may“.

a“"911, I'd be afraid o’ my life to stay in the house al

are“ be  m“  8r Mir
eysee a. e o woman ere "p0 ’n
toAnd ,and laughing,y“tlii;‘y’ll be satisfied with a,
Job we we made for them." ' y
(i3)th still expressed her fear of remaining i the
ca 11.
“ hen hide inthe tee-trench, behind the i use."
“ That’s better,” solidaOonah. ‘
“And now Imust begging," said Nance; " ,oz-they
must not see me when t y come." ,

*Goingonchance here anathemtofickq My“

can.
‘rThis is mostly the case,

)2

,h

‘r

. bumpin’ she‘s gettin' that shakes the brea.

' the adventure with a good

"Oh, don‘t leave me, Nance, dear " cried Oonah, “ for
('m sure I'll fuiut Vy ii 11 the fright when I hear them
coming, if some one. is not with me."

Nance yielded to Oonali’s fears and entreaties, and
with many a. blessing and boundlch thanks for the
bugger-woman’s kindness Oonah led the way to the
little potato garden at tlu ,k of the house, and there
the women squatted theme res in one of the trenches
and awaited the impending event.

it was not long in arriving. The tramp of approach-
ini‘r homes at n. sharp pace rung through the sill uess of
the night, and the women, crouchng flat.heiiealh the
wvcrsprouding branches of the potato tops, lay breath-
lost-l in the bortoui of the trench, as the riders came up
to the widow's cottage and entered. There they found
the widow and her pseudo niece sitting at the the and
vhree drunken vagnbonds, for the fourth was he ding
the horses outside, cut some fantastic ca ers round the

  

robin, and making a. mock obeisance to t e widow, tho ‘

yzpokesman addressed her with:

“ Your sarvuut, ina’ani l”

“Who are yiz at all, gintleman, that comes to my
place at this time 0’ night, and what‘s your business?‘

“We want the loan 0’ that young women there,
nia‘am," said the rui‘ilan.

Andy and his mother both uttered little, 5 ualls.

“And as for who we are, ma’am, we’re he blessed
society of Saint Joseph, inu’ain—our coat of arms is
iwo heads upon one pillow and our moft , ‘Who’s
afmid —Hui-rool’ " shouted the save 0. and {16 twirled
his stick and out another caper. ’ on coming up to
Andy, he addressed him as “ young woman," and said
there was a fine strap )ing fellow whose heart was
breaking till he “ rowlml ier in his arms."

Andy and the mother both acted their parts very well.
He rushed to the arms of the old woman, for rote-o-
tion, and screoehcd small, while the widow s .outed
“ mzl/ia mutt/la!" at the top of her voice, and did not
rive up her hold of the make-believe young woman un-
il her cap was torn half off, and her hair streamed
about her face. She called on all the saints in the
callendar, as she knelt in the middle of the floor and
rocked two and fro, with her clas led hands raised to
heaven calling down curses on t e “villains and rob-
bers “ t at were touring her child from her, while they
threatened to stop her breath altogether if she did not
make less noise, and in the midst of the uproar drug-
ged oi’f Andy, whose strug Ice and despair might haye
excited the suspicion of so ei’er men. They lifted him
u on a stout horse, in front of the most powerful .man
oFthe party who gripped Andy hard round the middle
and pushed his horse to a he gallop, followed by the
rest of the part '. The proximity of Andy to his cava-
liero made the utter sensible to the bad odor of the

ig‘s bed, which formed Andy‘s luxurious bust and
bustle; but he attributed the unsavory scent to a. bad
breath on the lady’s part, and would somotmies address
his charge thus:

‘ Young woman, if you plaze, would you turn our
face th’ other we if then in a Side soliloqu , ‘By
Joker, Iwondhera Jack’s taste—she‘s a line ump' of
a girl, but her breath is murdher intirely—phew—youn
woman, turn away your face, or by this and that 1’
fall off the horse. ’ve heard of a bad breath that
might knock a man down, but I never met it tillnow.
0h, murdlierl it’s worse it‘s growin'—I sup one "as the

t i h I” out,of her
dthi'i)ll’-0ll Llicrei is age. n—p ew

It wri’s well, perhaps, for the prosecution of the deceit,
that the distaste the fellow conceived for his charge
prevented any closer a preaches to Andy‘s Visage,
which might have dispel ed the illusion under which he
still pushed forward to the hills and bumpedpoor
Andy toward the termination of his ride. keeping a
sharp lookout as he went along, And soon was able to

erceive they were making for the 'Wlld part of the
gills where he had discovered the rivate still on the
night of his temporary fright and imaginary recomiOi-
[er with the giants, and the conversation he partly
overheard all recurred to him and he saw at once that
Oonah was the person alluded to, whose name he could
not catch, a circumstance that cost him many a con—
jecture in the interim. V This gave him a clue to the per-
sons into whose ower he was about to fall, after haying
so far defeated t ieir scheme, and he saw he should have
to deal with very desperate and lawless parties. Re-
membering, moreover, the herculcan frame of the in-
amorato, he calculated on an awful thrashing as the
smallest penalty he slholuld laatve to [gaytfor dggegvuiigifi

' was iievert ie ess e ennin o o 1'
mm' but ' heart, to make dice“ serve
his turn as long as he might and at last, if necessary,
to make the best fight he could.

As it happened, luck favored Andy in his adven-
ture, for the hero of the blunderbuss (and hedIit Will be
remembered, was the love-sick gentleman), 'ank ro-
fiisely on the in rht in question, quai‘fing deep potiit 0115
to the health 0 his Oonah, wishing luck to his friends
and speed to their horses and every now and then as-
cending the ladder from the cave, and looking out for

the approach of the party. On one of these occasions,_

from t e unsteadiness ofthe ladder, or himself, or per—
haps both, his foot slipped, and he came. to the ground
with a. hen. full, in which his head received so severe
a blow that ebccame insensible, and it was some time
before his sister, who was an inhabitant of his den,
could restore him to consciousness. This she did, how-
ever, and the savage recovered all the senses the
whisky had left him; but still the stunning effect of the
fall cooled his conrage considerabl , an , as it ‘were,
“bothered " him so that he felt muc less of the gal-
lant nay Lotharlo " than he had done before the accl-
dent. '

Tm: tram of horses was heard overhead ere 10:5,
and than 115m, or Big John, as the H_ercules was call .
told Bridget to go up to “ the darhn',“ and help her
(1

own.

“ or that’s a. blackng laddhar," said be. u“,
cunigd undher me like an eel, bad luck. to m—tefi he.-
I‘d go up myself, only the ground is slipping from un-
dher inc—and the laddher— ’

Bridget went off, leavmg Jack growling forth anathe.
mas a ainst the ground and the ladder, and returned
speed‘ with the mock-lady and her attendant s_quires_
“Oh, my 'ewell" roared Jack. as he caught sight of
his rize. life scrambled up on his legs, and made a,
rus at Andy, who imitated a womans scream and
fright at the expected embrace; but. it was with much
greater difficulty be suppressed his laughter at the
Headloug fall with which Big Jack plunged his head
mm a. heap of turf.‘ and hugged a sack of malt which
lay beside it. ' ‘

HandymAndy.

Andy endeavored to overcome the provocation to
merriincnt by screeching; and as Bridget caught the
sound of this tendency toward laughter between the
screams, she thought it was the commencement of a
fit of liysiei'ics, and it accounted all the better for
And ‘s extravagant antics.

" h, the cruyihur is frightened out of her lifel" said
Bridget. “Lciirc her to me," said she to the men.
‘ There, jewel iniichrec 1“ she continued to Andy, sooth-
ingl , “ on't take on you that we v—don’t be aloci-cd,
you re among friends-duck is on y dhrunk dliriukiiig
your health, durhu‘, but he adores you." Andy
screechcd.

“ But don't be ufccred, you'll be thrai‘ed tender, and
he’ll marry you, darlin', hke an honest woman 1"

Andy squallcd.

“ But to-niglit, jewel—don"t be frightened."

Andy gave a hcuvy’sob at the rcspiic.

“Boys, will you lift Jack out o‘ the turf, and carry
him up into the fur? ‘twill be good for him, and this
duccnt girl will sleep with me to-niglit.“

Andy couldn't l'CifIHt a laugh at this, and Bridget
feared the girl was going oil into liysrcrics again.

“ Aisy, dear—ills '——sur«: you‘ll be safe with me.“

“ Owl owl owl ' SliOllchl Andy.

“Oh, murihcrl“ cried Bridget, “the sterricks will be
thcdi-ath of hcrl You liliickgunrds, you frightened her
coming up here, I‘m sure "

The men swore they behaved in the gciitrelcst man-

nor.

“ Well, take away Jack, and the girl shall have share
of my bed for this night."

Andy shook internally with laughter.

“Dear dcnr, how she thriinblcsl “ cried Bridget.
“Don‘t be so frightful, Lanna illuclireenthere, now—-
the "re taking Jack uwuy, and you‘re alone with niysclf
an will have a nice sleep."

The men all the time were removing Shari More to
upper air; and the lustsounds they heard as they lcft
the care were the cunxuig tones of Bridgct‘s voice, in-
vitiiig Andy, in the softest words, to go to bed.

 

CHAPTER xxxv.

Tun workshops of Nook-or-Nothing llall mug with
the sounds of occupation for two days iii'tcrthc demise
of its former muster. The hoarse grating sound of the
saw the whistling of the plane, and the stroke of the
mullet denoted the prise-nee of the carpenter; and the
sliiii‘pcr cliiik of a. hammer told of old Fogy, the family
“mi liner," being at work; but it was not on inilliucry
Edgy was now employed, though neither was it legitimate
tiiiker‘s work. He was scrolling out with his Elli‘lil'hl, and
hunting info form, ii plate of tin, to serve for the shield
on O‘Griuly‘s coffin, which was to record his name. age,
and day of departure; and this Win; the second pliiie on
which the old man worked, for one was already finished
in the corner. Why are there two cumin-plates? Enter
the carpenter’s shop, and you will see the answer in two
cofliiis tho the carpenter has nearly completed. But wli
titvotcofllns for one death? Listen, reader, to a bit of Iris
s m cgy.

It has been stated that an apprehension was entertained
of a seizure of tho inanimate body of O‘Grady for the
debts it luid contracted in, life, and the luirpy nature of the
money-lender from whom this movement was dreaded
warranted the fear. Had O’Grady been [)0 ular, such a
measure on the part of a cruel creditor inig t have been
defied, as the surrounding peasantry would have risen en
mass: to prevent it- but the hostile position in which he
had placed himself toward the people alienated the
natural infection the are born wit 1 for their chiefs, and
any partuil defense t e few ilcrce retainers whom indivi-
dual interest had attuclied to him could hnve nlilde might
have been insui’ilclent; therefore, to save his father’s rc-
iniiius from the polliuion (as the son collsidered) of a bug.
lii’l“s touch, Gustavus determined to achieve by stratilgom
what he could not accomplish by force. and had two cof-
ilns constructed, the one to be filled with stones and
straw, and sent out by the front entrance with all the
demonstration of a real funeral, and be given u to the
attack it was feared would be made upon it; w lie the
other, put to its legitimiitc use, should be placed on a raft
and floated down the river to an ancient burial-ground
which in some miles below on the opposite bunk. A
facility or this was afforded by a branch of the river
running up into the domain, as it Will bereincmberedl
and the scene of the bcai-l-sh freaks played upon Furlong
was to witness a trick of a more serious nature.

While all'these preparations were oiniz forward the
“waking” was kep ug in all the bar )arous style of old
timv-a; eiuin v and drln lng in profusion went on in the
house, and tie kitchen of the hall rung With Joviality.
'l‘lie feats of sports and arms of the man who had passed
away were landed, and his cmnpuratlve achievements
with those of his progenitors gave rise to miiiiy a stirring
anecdote; and bursts of biirbiirous exultiition or more
barbarous merriment, rang in the house of death. There
was no hick of whisky to fire the brains of these revellers,
for the standard of the measurement of family grandeur
was too often, a li uid one in lrclm d, even so rcceutl
as the time we spc { of; and the dozens of wine waste
during the life it helped togdiorten, and the. posthumous
gallons consumed in toasting; to the memory of the de-
parted, were union the char shed remomlmniccs of here-
ditar honor. “"ierca were two hogshoads of whisky
than at my father’s wake!" was but a moderate boast of
a true Irish squire, filty years ago.

And now the last night of the wake approached, and the
retainers tlironged to honor the pbsequme of their departed
chief with an increased enthusiasm, which rose in pro ior-
uou as the whisky got low; and songs in praise of t cir
present occupation~ihat is, getting drunk~mng mer-
rily round, and the sports of the field and the sorrows
and joys of love resounded; in short,_the rullng pas.
sions of life 11 red in'rhyme and music in honor of
this occasion o death—and as death is the maker of
widows, a very animated discussion on the subject of
widowhood arose, which afforded great scope for the
rustic wits, and was crowned b the song ol “Widow
Muchree“ beino universally calla for by the company;
and a flne—lookin fellow With a merry eye and 1211- ye
white te ih.whic he amply displayed byb wide mout l,
poured orth in cheery tow a pretty “"3131”! which
“mad wall the humorous spirit of the words:-

. WIDOW MACEREE.
I.

l. ' m, We no wonder you frow .2 -
WW" “when bone! widow muchree: n. v,
yum. n w. our looks. that same dirty block m-

 

 

hoiioi widow machine

‘ the heir shun]

 

How altered your hair,
With that close cap you wear-
"i‘is destroyinfl your hair
liich should be flowing free:
Be no louver ii cliurl
or its biac'i: silken curl,

Och lionei widow muchroo. '

II.

“ Widow machree, now the summer In come,
Ooh hone! widow inachi‘ce;
When everything smiles, should ll bounty look glu-
Och hone! widow niaclireo.
See the birds go lll )alrs,
And the rabbits and hares»—
Why even thlg boars
ow in con les 09'
And the mute little iisii,p “gr ‘
Though they cant spake, they wish,
Och hone! widow machroo.

III.

“ Widow mnchree, and when winter come: In.
' Och lioncl widow machree,
To be poking the the all alone is a sin,
OCll lionci widow machrao,
Sure the shovel iind tongs
To each other belongs,
And the kittle sings songs
Full of family glee,
While alone with your cup,
Like a hermit you sup—
Och hone! widow mach“.

IV

“ And how do (you know, with the comforts I've towld,
cli honel widow iniichrce,
But you‘re keeping some poor fellow out in the cowld,
Och hour-l widow maohree.
With such sins on yOur head, ‘
Sure Joli! peace would be ilcd,
Coul you sleep in your bed,
. Without thinking to so.
Some ghost or some sprite,
That would wake you each nlght,
Crying, ‘ Och hone! widow machm.‘

V.

“ Then take my advice, darling widow niacin-ea,

Och hone! widow niaclirec, .

And with my advice, faith i wish you‘d take me
Och lioucl widow muchree.

You‘d have me to desire

Then to sit by the fire;

And sure hope is no linr
In whis wing to in.

That the ghosts won (1 depart,

When you‘d me near your heart,
Och houel widow machm.“

The singer was honored with a round of applause, and
his challenge for another lay was readily nuswared and
mirth and music filled the night and ushered in the. awn
of the day which was to witness the melancholy sight of
the master of an ample mansion being made the tenant of
the “ narrow house. ‘

In the evening of that (in , however, the wall rose loud
and long; the mirth wide "the waking“ permit}; had?
passed away, and the ulican, or funeral cry, told that the
ifeless chief was being borne from his bail. "i‘hiit wild

cry was heard even by the iiirty who were waiting to make-

their horrid seizure, and or that party the stoue-ladeiii
coflln was sent With urctinuo of mourners through the old.
iron gate of the principal entrance, while the mortal re-
mains were borne by a smaller party to the river inlet and
laced on the raft. Half iin hour ind witnessed a sham
glit on the part of U‘Griidy's people with the bullifls
and their followers. who made the seizure the luteuded
and locked up their Him in an old burn to w lcli it had
been conveyedi iintl some en ligament on the part of

in obscurity, conveyed the remains, which the myrml-
dons of thean fancied they assessed, to its quiet and.
lonely resting place. The r t wastaken in tow bya
boaf'cari-ylng two of the boys, and pulled by four lul
retainers of the departed c cf, wh le Gustavus binnie f‘
stood on the raft astride over the coilln, and with an.
eel-spear, which lied aflorded lilm man ii day‘s sport,
performed the melancholy task of 1 lug it. It was A.
strangely painful yet beautiful sight 0 behold the fin -
ful figure of the fine boy enaa ed in this Inst Md Ill: ;
with dexterous energy he pfieid hls spear, now on th 8
Bide and now on that. directing the course of the raft,
or clearing it from the fingers whlch interrupted its
passage through the narrow inlet. This duty be had to
utten to for some time, even afterleuving the little in-
let; for the river was much overgrown with flame" “1
this point. and the increasing darkness made the talk
more difllcult.

In the midst of all this action not one word was, spoken;
even the sturd bontmen were mute, Mid the 1’33 0‘ the
par in the row ock, the plush of the water. and the crush-
ing sound of the yielding rushes as the “ watery bier"
made its wn three )1 them were the only sounds which.
broke the si once.
but by the time may reached the open stream, and that
his personal exertion was no longer required 3 chan 9
came over him, It was 11 lit—the measured out of e
oars sounded llkea kne to blm—there was darkness
above him and death below, and he sank down upon the
come, and plun ing his face passionately between‘ his
hands, he wept bltterly. Sad were the thoughts that op—‘
ressed the brain and wrung the heart of the highs lritef
oy. He felt that his dead nthcr was escaping, as t wart
to the grave —tliiii. even death did not terminate the con
sequences of an ill-spent life. He felt like u, thief in thg
night, even in the execution of his own stratagcm, arm
the bitter thoughts of that sad and solemn time wrought
apotcnt spell over after care: that one hour of misery
and disgrace influenced t e eiuii-e of a future life.

On a small hill overhanging the river was the ruin of In
ancient early temple of Christianity md to its surrounding
burial-ground a few of the retainers been dispatched to

repute a grave. The were engaged in this task b the»
Fight. of a iorch made 0 bog-pine, when the flicker the
name attractle‘d the eye of a horseman who was ridin
slowly along the neighboring road. Won .
could be the cause of 11 hi in such a pieceme lupod‘ the
“joining fence and. e up to the guys-yard. ‘

" What are you doingherel“ he slid to the in “
They gin-red and luqkni up 9nd llw what the W
upon I team of MN O‘Conan

libeinte it; wli e the aforesaid heir as '
soon as the shadows of evening had shrouded the ver,

till Gustavus betrayed, no emotion; '

 

t
t
i
l
l

 

 

-....:....,.. .3 w... ..

42

The New in OH! Library.

 

J..—

 

” We‘re finishing your work," said one of the men with
malicious earnestness.

“My work?“ repeated Edward.

“Yes,” returned the man more stemly than before—

this is the grave of O’Grady.“

The words went like an ice-bolt through Edward‘s
heart, and even by the torchlight the tormenter could see
his victim grew livid.

’l‘lie fellow who wounded so deeply one so generally
beloved as Edward O‘Connor was a thorough ruillan.
His answer to Edward‘s query 5 rang not frotn love of
()‘Grudy, nor abhorrence 0 taking human life,
but frotii the opportunit of retort which the occasion
ottert-ld upon one who ha once checked him luau act of
bruta ty,

Yet Edward O‘Connor could not re 1 —it was a home
thrust. The death of O‘Grady had we gilt-d heavily upon
him; for though O‘Grady‘s wound had been given in
honorable com at, provoked by his own fury, and not
producing immediate death; though that deathbad sn-
pervened upon the subsequent intractability) of the
patient; yet the fact that O‘Grady had never een “up
and doing" since the duel tended to ive the impression
that his wound was the remote if not t e immediate cause
of his death, and this circumstance weighed heavily on
Edward‘s spirits. His friends told him be felt over keenly
upon the subject, and that no one but himself could enter-
tain a question of his total innocence of O’Urady‘s death;
but when from the lips of acommon peasant he got the
answer he did, and that beside the grave of his adversary,
it will not be wondered at that he reeled in his saddle.
A cold, shivering sickness came over him, and to avoid
falling he alighted and leaned for support against his
horse, which stooped, when freed from the restraint of the
rein, to browse on the rank verdure; and for a moment
Edward envied the unconsciousness of the animal against
which he leaned. He pressed his forehead against the
saddle, and from the depth of a bleeding heart came up
an agonized exclamation.

A gentle hand was laid on his shoulder as he spoke,
and, turning round, he beheld Mr. Bermingham.

“ What brin is you here?” said the clergyman.

“Accident; answered Edward. “But why should I
say accident—it is by a higher authority and a better—
it is the will of Heaven. It is meant as a bitter lesson
to human pride: we make for ourselves lows of honor,
and forget the laws of Godl"

‘~ Be calm, my young friend," said the worthy pastor;
“ Icannot wonder you feel deeply—but command your-

tself." He pressed Edward‘s hand as he spoke, and left
him, for hoknew that an agony so keen is net benefited
by com anions-hip.

Mr. ermin ham was there by a pointment to per-
form the buri service, and he ha not left Edward’s
side many minutes when alon , wild whistle from the
waters announced the arriva of the boat and raft,
and the retainers ran down to the river, leaving the
pine-torch struck in the upturned earth, waving, its
warm blaze over the cold grave. During the interval
which ensued between the de arture of.the men and
their reappearance, bearing the ody to its last resting-
place, Mr. Bermingham spoke with Edward O‘Connor,
'and soothed him into a more tranquil bearing. When
-,tbe cctlin came within view he advanced to meet it, and
(began. the sublime burial-service, which be repeated
imo-t im ressively. When it was over, the men com-
menced lling up the rave. As the clods fell upon the
.bnin, they smote the carts of the dead man‘s children;

t the boys stood upon the ver e of the grave as lonrr as

vestige of the tenement of t eir lost father coul be
seen; but as soon as the coflin was hidden, they with-
drew from the brink, and the younger bo s, each takin
hold of the hand of the eldest seemed to mply the nee
of mutual dependence: as if death had drawn closer the
bond of brotherhood. ‘

l‘here was no sincerer mouruer at that place than Ed-
ward O‘Counor, who stood aloof, in respect for the feel-
ings of the children of the departed man, till the grave
was grits filled up, and all were about to leave the 5 0t;

but t en his feelin s overmastered him, and, impelled) b
a torrent of conten in emotions, be rushed forward, an
throwinglhimself on his knees before Gustavus, be held
up Ihis nds implorlngly, and sobbed forth, “Forgive
me

The astonished boy drew back.

" 0h, forgive me! ‘repeated Edward; “ I could nothelp
it; it was forced on nae—it was—"

As he struggled forutterance, even the rough retainers
were touched, and one of them exclaimed: “Oh, Mr.
O‘S’li'llllnoriylt wais a failr i htl“

ere ‘exc aime ‘ word—“ on be it h v
me our handin forgiveness!" y u I 0 ’ g e

“ forgive you " said the boy, “but do not ask me to
give on my ban to-ni ht."

“ on are right," sai Edward, springiu to his {set—
“ you are right—you are a noble fellow; and now, remem-
ber my planing words, Gustavus:—Here, by the side of

our fat cr‘s grave, I 1pledge you in soul that throu h

to and till death, in a extremity, Edward O’Connor 3

your sworn and trusty friend."

 

CHAPTER XXXVI.

Warm the foregoinrr scene of sadness took place in t e
lone churchyard, unbo ywatch was kept over the secotllld
Collin by the mymiidons of the law. The usurer who
made the seizure had brou ht down from Dublin three of
the most determined baili s from amongst the tribe, and
to their care was committed the keepinghof the suppOsed
body in the old barn. Associated wit these wortliies
were a couple of ill-conditioned country blackguards,
who, for the sake of a bottle of whisky, would keep com-
pany With Old Nick himself,and who expected, moreover,
to hear “ a power 0‘ tie s “ from the “ gentleman “ from
Dublin, who in their urn did not ob ectto have their
guard strengthened, as their notions of a rescue in the
'oumry parts of Ireland were anyth but agreeable.
l‘lie night was cold, so, clearing away rorn one end or
the barn the sheaves of corn with-which it was stored,
the made a turf fire, stretched themselves on a tood
sba e-down of straw before the cheer-luv blaze, an cir-
culated among them the whisky, of w ‘ch they had a

ood store. A tap at the door announced a new-comer;

ut the Dublin bailifis, fearing I an rise. hesitated to
open to the knock until their country ies assured them
it was a friend, whose voice they recognized. The door
was opened, and in walked Larry Hogan, to pick up his
share of what was goin , whatever it might be, sayin :

“ I the ht you wor or kee log me out alto ether.
“3T2: Endemic from Ian’s: was afeard of what they

a a'nehtrescue), sai epocsant, till Itold them

i‘ “:9 Idlin willows 1mm~ 'o-uight," an Larry.

“ you may make your minds aisy about that, for the people
doesn‘t care enough about his bones to get their own
broke in savin‘ him, and no wondher. It‘s a lanthernm-
swash bully he always was, quiet as he is now. And
there you are, my bold squire," said he, apostrophising
the coilln which had been thrown on a heap of sheaves.
“ Fuix, it's a good kitchen you kep‘, anyhow, whenever
you had it to spind; and indeed when you hadn‘t you
spint it all the saitie, for the divil a much you cared how
you got it; but death has made you pa the reckoning
at last—that thing that illly-oillcers cal the debt 0‘ na-
ture tniist be paid, whatever else you may owe.“ _

“ Why, it‘s as good as a sermon to hear you," said one
of the bailiiIs.

“ 0 Larry, sir, discourses illigant," said a peasant.

“Tut, tut, tut,“ said Larry, with aflected modesty:
“it‘s not what Isay, but I can tell you a thing that Doc-
thor Growlin‘ put out on him more nor a year ago, which
was mighty ‘cute. Scholars calls it an ‘epithet of dis-
sipation ‘ which means getting a man‘s tombstone ready
for hint before he dies; and divil a more cuttinv thing was
 cut on a tombstone than the doctor‘s r yme; this

‘ Here lies O'Grady, that cantankerous creature,
Who paid, as all must pay, the debt of nature;
But, keeping to his eneral maxim still,_

Paid it—like other slits—against his Will.' " ‘

“What do you think 0‘ that, Goggins?" inquired one
bailifi from the other; “you're a judge 0‘ po‘thry-“

“ It’s secure," answered Goggins, authoritatively, “ but
coarse. I wish you‘d brile the rashers: I begin to feel the
calls 0‘ nature, as the poet says."

This Mister Goggins was a character in his way. He
had the nreutest longing to be thoti ht a poet, ut execra~
ble coup cts together sometimes, and always to ked as fine
as he could; and his mixture of sentimentality, with a
large stock of blackguardi‘sm produced a strange jumble.

‘ The people here thought tnate, sir," said Larry.

“0h very well for the oountryl” said Goggins; “ but
‘twouldn’t do for town."

“Misther Goggings knows best,“ said tle bailifi who
first spoke, “ for he s a pots himself, and writes in the
newsplapers.“

“ , indeed!" said Larry.

“Yes,” said Goggins, “sometimes I throw ofl little
things for the newspapers. There‘s a friend of mine 1lyou
see a gentleman connected with the press, who is o ten
in diihculties, and I give him a hint to keep out o‘ the way
when he‘s in trouble, and he swears I‘ve a genus for the
muses, and encoura es me—"

“ Huinphl" says arry.

“And puts my thin s in the paper, when he gets the
editor‘s back turned, or the editor is a consaited chap
that likes no one‘s po’thry but his own; but never mind—
if I ever get a writ against that chap won‘t-I sarve it!"

“And dar say some day you will have it agen him,
sir,“ said Larry.

“Sure of it, a'most," said Goggins; “ them lltherary
men is always in dcfiiculties."

“ I wondher you’d be like them, then, and write at all,"
said Larry.

“Oh, as for me, it's only by way of amusement; at-
tached as I am to the legal profession, my time wouldn't
permit ' but I have been infected by the company I kept.
The liv n imaaes that creeps over a man sometimes is
irresistib e, an you have no pace till you get them out
0‘ your head.”

“Oh, indeed they are veia throublesome," says Larry,
“and are the litherary gin emen, sir, as you call them,
mostly that way?“

“To be sure; it is that which makes a lltherary man:
his head is full—teams with creation, sir."

“ Dear, dear!" said Larr .

“And when once the ich of literature comes over a
man nothing can cure it but the scratching of 9. ,en."

“ ut if you have not a pen, I suppose you mus scratch
any other way you can."

“To be sure, ‘ said Gog ns, “ I have seen a litherary
gentleman ina gponging- ouse do crack things on the
wall with ablto burnt stick. rather than be die—they
must execute."

“ Ila!" says Larry.

" Sometimes, in all their poverty and difficult , I envy
the ‘ fatal fatality,‘ as the poet says, of suc men in
catching ideas."

“ That’s the enteel name for it," says Larry.

“Olil” excla med Goggins, enthusiastically “ Iknow
the solisfaction of catchin a man, but it’s nothing at all
compared to catching an i ea. For the man, you see, can

‘ve bail and get on, but the idea lsa'our own for ever.

nd then a rhyme—when it has uzzle you all day, the
pleasure you havein nabbing it a lastl"

“0h, its poth'ry ou‘re is akin‘ about,“ said Larry.

“ To be sure,“ sa d Gogg s' “ do on think I’d throw
away my time on prose 1‘ You’re urning that bacon,
Tim,“ said he to his sub. '

“ Poethr t, agen the world!" continued he to harry,
“ the Casti ian sthraime for moi—Hand us that whisky‘
—he at the bottle to his mouth and took a awi —
—“ T at‘s ood—you do abit of private here, I suspec ,“
said he, wit a wink, pointing to the bottle.

Larry returned a significant glrin, but said nothing. ,

“ Oh, don’t be afraid 0‘ me— wouldn't ’ each—~ "

” Sure it‘s agen the law, and you’re a the
law,“ said Larry. .

“That's no rule,” said Goggins: “the Lord Chief
Justice always goes to bed, the say. With 31! tumblers
o' ‘potteen under his belt; and brink it myself."

Arrah, how do you get it i" said Larry.
h “ Frgm a gentleman, afrlend 0‘ mine, in the Custom-
ouse.

“A-dad that’s uare " said Larry. 15“ 111118-

“Oh, we see qtlleer things, I tel yonyg' 381d Goggins,
‘f we gentlemen of the law. ‘ u _

“ To be sure you must,“ returned L ; and migb
im prov in‘ it must be. Did you ever catc a thief, sir?"

“ My good man you mistake my grafeESlon." said
Goggina proudly: I‘we never have an' hingto do in the
crimin ine, that‘s much beneath m.’

u N our pardoné sir.""
o o ence—noo once.

“But it must he might improvin', Ithlnk ketching

of Mel/magi} finding out air trlcks and stair-places.
e

tleman

and the
“Yes es," said Go ' s “ fun' thoughIdpn‘t
do if. I know all abogtglllt,’ an could t‘oll queer things

“'Arrah, maybe you would sir i" said Larry.
‘ The” bitter lines on a “bad pay " were written by I

 

Dublin medical wltof it re a of when Dr. Growl
Mu .mwm his p in.

 

“ Maybe I will, after we nibble some radian—will you
take share?“

“ Mnsha, long life to you,“ said Larry, always willing
to get whatever he could. A repast was new made, more
resembling a feast of savages round their war-fire than
any civilized meal; slices 0 bacon broiled in the tire, and
eggs roasted in the turf-ashes. The viands were not ob-
jectionable; but the cookingi Olil—tliere was neitliei
gridiron nor frying- )an, fork nor iigoon; a. couple of clasp-

iiives served the w ole party. evertheless, the satis-
fied their hunger, arid then sent the bottle oti its ox iilarat-
ing round. Soon after that, many a story of burglary,
robbery, swindling, etty larceny, and every conceivab e
crime, was related or the amusement of the circle; and
the plots and counter )lots of thieves and thief-takers
raised the wonder of t e peasants. Larry Hogan was
especially delighted; more particularly when some trick
of either villaitiy or cunninnr came out.

“ Now women are troublesome cattle to deal with
mostly,“ said Goggins “ They are remarkably ‘cute i‘lrstx
and then they are spiteful after; and for circumventin
either way are sharp hands. You see they do it quieter
than men; a man will make a noise about it, but a woman
does it all on the sly. There was Bill Morgan—and a sharp
fellow he was, too—and he had set his heart on sortie silver
spoons he used to see down in a kitchen windy, but the
servant-maid, somehow or other, suspected there was de-
sinns about the place, and was on the watch. Well,-one
night, when she was all alone, she heard anoise outside
the Windy, so she kept as quiet as a. mouse. By-and-by
the sash was attempted to be riz from the outside, so she
laid hold of a kittle of boiling wather, and stood hid behind
the shutter. The windy was now riz a little, and a hand
and arm thrust in to throw up the sash altogether, when
the girl floured the boiling water down the sleeve of Bill’s
coat. ill roared with the pain, when the girl saidto
him, laughing, through the Windy, ‘I thought you came
for something.‘ "

“ That was a ‘cute girl “ said Larry, chucklin .

“ Well, now that‘s an instance of a woman‘sc evcmess
in preventin . I‘ll teach you one of her determination to
discover an prosecute to conviction; and in this case,
what makes it curious is, that Jack Tate had done the
bowldest thing, and run the greatest risks, ‘ the eminent
deadly,‘ as the poet says, when he was done up at last by
a feather-bed.“

“ A feather-bed," repeated Larry, wondering how a
feather-bed could influence the fate of a bold burglar,
while Goggins mistook his exclamation of surprise to
signifK the paltrlness of the prize, and therefore chimed
Inw1t him

“ Quite true—no wonder you 'wonder—quite below
a man _of his pluck; but the fact was, a sweetheart
of his was longin for a feather-bed, and Jack de-
termined to st it. ell, he marched into a house, the
door of whic he found open, and went up-stairs, and
took the best feather-bed in the house, tied it up in the
best quilt, crammed some caps and ribbons he saw lying

about into the bundle, and marched down stairs again
but on see, in on g of! even the small thing of a
tea er-bed, Jack s owed the skill of a high practi-
tioner, for be descendhered the stairs backwar s."

“ Backwards!" said Larry, “ what was that for 7"

“You‘ll see by-and-by, ‘ said Gog us' “he descen-
dhered backwards, when suddenly he e a door open
lag, and a fa ale voice exclaim, ‘ Where are you going
W th that be 1'

“‘I am goin up stairs with it, ma‘am, sa s Jack,
whose backwa position favored his lie, and e begun
to walk up again

“ ‘ Come down hare,‘ said the lady, ‘ we want no beds
here, man.‘

“‘Mr. Sullivan, ma‘am, sent me home with it him-
self,' said Jack, still mounting the stairs.

“ ‘Come down I tell you said the lady, in a great
rage. ‘There‘s no Mr. Sullivan lives here—go out of
this with your bed. you‘ stupid fellow.‘

“ ‘I beg your ardon, ma‘am,‘ as a Jack, turning
round, and mare ing of! with the ed fair and aisy.
Well, there was a regular shilloo in the house when the
thing was found out, and cart-ropes wouldn‘t howld the
lady for the rage she was in at being diddled; so site
oflered rewards, and the dickens knows what all; and
what do you think, at last discovered our poor Jack.

“ The sweetheart, maybe, said Larry, grinning at the
thou ht of human peril y.

“ 0," said Goggins, ‘ honor even among sweethearts.
though they do e trick sometimes, I confess; but no:
woman of any honor would betray a eat man like Jack.
No--’twas one of the paltry ribbons t brought convic-
tion home to him' the woman never lost sight of hunting
up evidence abort her feather-bed, and, in‘the end, a rib-
bon out of one of her caps settled the hash of J aek Tate.“

From robbin the went on to tell of murders, and at.
last that nncom ortah e sensation which no le experience
after a feast of horrors began to perv e t party; and
whenever they looked round, than was the coffin in the
back rronnd.

“ row some turf on the fire," slid Goggins “'u.
burnin low; change the subject; the tragic mu In.
reigne sufliciently ong—enough of the dagger and the
bowl—sink the socks and put on the buckskins. leather
awa Jim—sing us a song,“ ,

“ hat is it to be?“ asked Jim.

“Oh—that last song of the Solicitor-General‘s,“ ssh
Goggins, with an air as if the Solicitor-General were his
particular friend.

“About the robbery P" inquired Jim.

“To be sure," returned Goggins.

“Dear me," said Larsy, “ and would so grate a man as
the Solicithor-General emane himself by writin’ about

bbers?“

"Obi" said Goggins, “those in the heavy profession
of the law must have their little private moments of rol-
lickzation; and then high men, {Ion see, like todo obit
of low b way of variety. ‘The ight before Larry was
stretche ' was done b a bisho ,they as ; and ‘Lord
Altamont‘s Bull’ by t e Lord bief Jns co; and the
Solicitor-General is as up to fun as any bishop of then
all. Come dim tip us the stave!"

Jim cleared his throat and obeyed his chief.

THE QUAKEB‘S MEETING.
L U

“A traveller wended the wilds among,

With a urse of gold and a silver tongue-

His hat t was broad, and all drab were. his cloth“,
For he hated hi h colors—except on his nose,
And he met wig: a lady, the story goes.

 

Height)! mtbeauidm the.

-- -_.___,--_m._._..—.—_‘_~.—.__‘a_-»—._ ._-._L._v..~«¢_—_ ______., ._— , ,_ . , , , ., ., .

,a

or, .

A

{a

Handy Andy.

 

II.

" 'i'he damsel she cost him a merry blink.

And the trurellcriiothing was loth, I think;

"or merry black eye beamed her bonnet beneath,

And the quukor he grinned, for he‘d very good teeth. ‘

And he asked. ‘Art thou" going to ride on the heath?
Heighoi yea thee and My thee.

in.

“ ‘ I ho on'll protect me, kind sir,‘ mild the maid,

' As to Billions heath over I‘m sadly afraid;

For robbers, they say, here in numbers abound,

And I wouldn‘t ” for anything" I should be found,

For, between you and me. i have five hundred pound.‘
Heighol yea thee and nay thee.

IV.

“ ‘ I! that is thee own, dear,‘ the quakcr he said,
‘ l ne‘er saw a llllllili‘ll I sooner would wed;
And I have another five hundred Just now,
in the Budding that‘s under: niylsuddlie-bow,
‘ itali u on t ee vow
And I lame pHeigholv yea thee and my thee.

V.

"rho maiden she smiled, and her rein she drew,
‘ Your ciIer I‘ll trike, thougli I’ll not take you;‘
A istol shelield at the qiiuker‘s head—
‘ ow give me your old. or i‘ll giveyou my lead,
‘Tis undes the sadd e I think you said.‘
Heb-51101 yea thee and My thee.

VI.

" ’l‘he damsel she ripp'd up the saddle-how,

And the qiiaker was never a qiiakcr till now-

And he saw by the fair one he wisln-d for a bride

His purse borne awn with ll swuggcrinir stride;

And the eye that loo 'crl tender now on y dolled.
Ileighol yea thee and my thee.

VII.
“ ‘The spirit doth move me, friend Broadbrim,‘ quoth

she, '
‘ ’1‘ ti he all this filthy temptation from thee, _
li‘tighilsmmon dcceiveth, and beauty is fleeting,
Accept from thy maai-d‘n a right loving greet ng,

‘ h riflt b this quaker‘s mueiin, .
h or mush do“) a e p (Heigliol yea thee and may ties.

VIII.

“ ll uaker so rosy and sly
liailengglliotle‘filiggesys‘lnore t an a wencli in tliine eye,
Don‘t go again peeping girl‘s bonnets beneath,
Remember the one ifiimI you Ollyfnlllflgéleiihr

W— .
Her name‘s Jimmy ar (g eighol yea thee and MW “we.

IX

.. . Mmd Jameg,‘ quoth the nuke, ‘pray listen to me,
For thou canst confer a great ‘luvor, d'ye see,
The gold thou hast, taken is not mine, my friend,
Hot in master’s—and on thee I depend
To a it appear I my trust did defend. -
Heighol yea thee and My thee,

X.
"' ‘50 an a few shots throngh my clothes, here and
there, ‘ ‘ ‘
 ' - ' r twas a (les rate ufi'alr.
ll: llétlfilfillle’g first througll the skirt of his coat,
And then through his collar quite close to his throat. I
Now once through my broad-brim,‘ quoth Ephraim, 1

“‘6' Heighol yea thee and My thee.

XI.

’ t
“ ‘ a brace,‘ said bold Jim, ‘ and the re spen ,
And lggrllgload again for a make-believe rent}, .
"I‘hen ’ said Ephraim—producing his pistols— juiit give
MK five hundred pounds hack—«or, as sure as you we,
‘.

lddle or sieve.‘
nuke 0‘ your way allelghol yea thee and My thee.

XII
-‘ ‘ l w was dlddlcd and though he was game,
liilslziiggptlimim‘s pistol do detidl y in aim,n I
'l‘hat he gave up this gold, ting: hgt‘t’oalke gimpgfrapers,
And when the who e story g _ ' '
' i ‘ '. were no match or the quaker
may said that the “milecgighol yea thee afnd My thee." ’

“ ‘ rc thin on should he singin‘ a son
imrewffllila if}; qfifiigau, “gallant Jun Barlow, and it’s no
IlVer'li'ilf a mi c out of this very plus he was hanged.

“indeed!” exclaimed all the men at once. looking with
great interest at Larry._

“ It‘s truth I‘m tellin
robbery ii by the ion 7 llll there,
he was in ht stoii .

“Pluck $0 t s back-bone,“ said Gogglus: . d use

" Well he tuk the purses afi both 0 t um arid j a
he was gbin’ on afthcr doin' the same, what s on app?“
on the road before him, blutttwlo  :Ttx'clcvrxé cc)de

' iin. With tia . e . a , I i
 Silop tliiefi‘ and so Jim, seem himself hemmed
‘n betuné the four 0‘ them, faced his horse to the ditch
and took across the counthrv; but the thtavelers was well
mounted as well as himself, and powdhered aftber him
like mad. Well, it was equal to a steeple chase a most,
and Jim seein‘ he could not shake them off, thought the
best thirlv he oiild do was to cut out some trouble-
some wgrk for them; so be led oil where he knew
there was the devil’s own leap to take, and he intended
to "pound‘f them there, and be ofl in the muse time;
but as ill luck would have it, his own horse, that was an

‘oowld as himself. and would Jump at the moon if he was

raced to it missed his foot in takin’ off, and fell short

-‘ the leap 'iind slipped his sliouldher, and Jim himself

and a had full of it too. and 3?’ 000m. it was allover wld

i iiu—a nd up came the four gintlemen. Well, Jim had his

. 7stols yet and he pulled them out, and swore he’d shoot

Eiie first man that attempted to take him; but the [gin-
gilemen had iistols as well as he, and were so hot on _he

rinse the etermined to have him, and closed on mm,

Jun th- and killed one 0' them; but he got a ball in

his sliouldher himself from another, and he was taken.

Jim éthrnv to shoot himself With his second pistol, but

it missed fire "the curse o‘ the road is on me; ma

 lie inferior class of quakors make 'rnui serve no:
oul t' own gi-sinnwieal use, but also do the duty of 13-7
or 'II in.

i a wound.

on. He made a very bowld
on two gintlemen, for

 

Jim: ‘my pistol. missed fire, and my horse slip 0d his
shouldher, and now I'll be sci'ugged,‘ says he. ‘ at it‘s
not for nothing-4“!“ killed mm 0‘ ye,‘ says he."

“ He was all pluck." Haiti (ioggins. ,

“Desperate bowid.“ said Larry. “ Well, he was
thried and condemned, a1) worry, and was hanged, as I
tell you, half a mile out 0‘ this very place, where we are
sittin‘, and his appearance walks, they say, ever since."

“ You don't say sol" said (loggiiis.

“ Faith it‘s tlll‘lll‘l" answered Larry.

“ You never saw it." said (loggins.

“The Lord forbid!" returned Larry; “but it’s thruo,
for all that. For you see the big house near this barn,
that is all in ruin, was deaurtcd because Jim‘s ghost
used to walk.“

“’l‘liut was foolish," said Gogglns; “ stir up the fire,
Jim, and hand me the whisky.“

“ ()h, if it was only wull:in‘, they might have got over
that; but atlast one night. as the story goes, when there
was a threinendions storm «1‘ wind and rziiu‘n"

“ Whlshti" said one of the peasants. “what‘s that?“

As they listened. they heard the beating of heavy rain
against the door, nnd'the wind howled through its chinks.

" Well,“ said (logsuns. “ what are you stopping for?“

“ Oh. I‘m not sioppiii‘,“ said Larry; “ I was sayin‘ that
it was it bad wild night, and Jimmy iinrlow's up iearance
came into the house and asked them [or a glass 0 spcr‘ts,
iinii thuthe'd he obli‘t-gud to them if they‘d ll(‘l])lilill with
his horse that slippi-(l his shoulilher; and faith, author
that, they‘d stay in the place no longer: and signs on it,
the house is gone to rack and rain, and it's only this burn
that is kept u at all, because it’s convaynient for owld
Sirinllint out e furui.“

“ 'i‘hut‘s all nonsense." said Goggins, who wished,
nevertheless, that he had not heard the “ nonsense."
“ Conic, sins: another song, Jim."

Jim said he did not remember one.

“Then you sing, itulph.“

li‘nlph said every one knew he never did more than join
a chorus.

“Then join me in a chorus." said Goggins, “ for I‘ll
sing, if Jim‘s ulraid.“

“ I‘m not, afraid." said Jim.

“Then why won't you sing?"

“ Because I don‘t like.“

“ Ahl“ exclaimed (logglns.

“Well, inuyhO vou‘re afraid yourself.“ said Jim, “if
you towhl tin-nth.“

“ Just to show you how little I‘m ilfeurd,“ said Gogglns,’
with u S\\'ll‘)‘2itl‘lllg air, “ i‘li sing another song about
Jimmy linrlow."

“ You‘d better not,“ said Larry Hogan.
in pace!“

“ li’uilare!” suid Gogglns. “Will you joll chorus, Jim?"

“ 1 will.“ snid Jim. fiercely.

“ \Ve'll all join,“ said the men (except Larry), who felt
it would he a sort of relief to bully away the supernatural
terror which hun ' round their hearts after the ghost story
by the sound of t ieir own voices.

" 'l‘lioii here goes!" said Goggins, who started another
long ballad about Jimmy Barlow, in the opening of which
all joined. It ran as follows:—

“ My name it is Jimmy Barlow,
I was born in the town of Carlow
And here 1 lie in the Mai'yboi‘ongli 3m,
All for the robbing of the Wicklow mall.
’ Fol de rol de mi de riddle-idol”

As it would he tiresome to follow this ballad through all
its length, breadth, and thickness we shall leave the
singers ell aged in their chorus, while we call the reader‘s
attention 0 a more interesting person than Mister Gog-
gius or J iminy Barlow.

“ Let him rest

 

CHAPTER XXXVIL

WHEN Edward O'Connor had hurried from the burial-
ilucc, he threw himself into his saddle, and iir ed his
nurse to speed, anxious to iiy the spot where h s fee].
ings had been so burrowed; and as be swept along
through the cold night wind which began to rise in
gusty fits, and howled past bun, there was in the
Violence of his rapid motion something eon mum] to the
fierce career of painful thoughts which chase each other
through his heated bmln. He continued to travel at
this rapid pace, so absorbed in bitter reflection as to be
quite insensible to external impressions,amd he knew
not how far nor how fast he was going, though the
heavy breathing of his horse at an other time would
have been signal sufilcient to draw t e rein ; but still he
pressed onward, and still the storm increased. and each
occlivity was topped but to sweep down the succeeding
slope at the same dcs crate ace. Hitherto the road
ovsr which he pursue his eet career lay throub_ an
open country and though the shades of germ-my mgm
hung above 1 the horse could make his way in safety
through the loom; but now they approached an old
road which s tirted an ancient domain, whose venerable
trees throw their arms across the old causeway, and
added their shadows to the darkness oi’ the night. ’

Many and many a time had Edward ridden in the soft
summer under the green shade of these very trees, in
company with Faun Dawson, his guiltless heart full of
hope and love; per iaps it was this very thought cross-
ing his mind at the moment which made his present cir-
cumstances the more 0 pressive. [lie was guiltless no
longer—ho rode/not in nippiuess Wth the woman he
adored under the soft shade of summer trees, but heard
the wintry wind howl through their leafless boughs as he
hurried in maddened speed beneath them, and heard in
the dismal sound but an echo of the voice of remorse
which was rin ylug through his heart. The darkness was
intense from t is canopy of old oaks which overhung the
road but still the horse was urged through the dark ravine
at gp'eed thou in one might not see an arm’s len rth be-
fore. Féuleasly it was performed, though ever an anon,
as the trees swung about their heavy branches in the
storm. smaller portions of the boughs _were snap ed 93
and flung in the faces of the horse and the rider, w io still
spurred and plashed his headlong way' through the heavy
road beneath. Emerging 3‘ 193mm You} the deep and
overshadowud vaile , asteep hill raised its crest in ad-
vance but still up t e stony acclivity the‘feet of the met-
tied steed rattled rapidly and flashed fire from the fiinty
path As they approached the top or the lull, the (one
of the storm became more apPBl'F—m l and on reaching its
crest, the fierce peltinir of the mingled rain and hail made
the horse impatht 01' the Storm of which his _rider was
“flung—almost unconscious. The spent animal with
short snortings betokened his labor, and shook his head
passionately u the fierce hail-shower struck him inthe

 

L

pressed overs rough descent. the generous creature, ti!
would (lie rather than than refuse, mode a false step, It 1
came heavily to the ground. Edward was stunned by
the fall, though not seriously hurt; and, after a lapse ofn
few seconds, recovered his feet, but found the horse still
prostrate. Taking the animal by the head, he assisted
him to rise, which he was not enabled to do till after sev
eralcflorts ; and when he regained his has, it was inani-
fest he was seriously lained ; and as he limped along with
dillICiilty beside his niastmgwho led him gently, it became
cvnient that it was beyond the animal‘s )owcr to reach hi
own stable that night. Edward for he ilrst lime was
now aware of how much he had punished his horse : hr
felt ashamed of using the noble brute with such severity,
and became conscious that he had been acting under
something little short of phrenzy. 'l‘lie conscious
ness at once tended to restore him somewhat to himself,
and he began to look around on every side in search of
some house where he could ilinti rest and shelter for his
disabled horse. As_ he proceeded thus, the cure neces—
sarily bestowed on his dumb companion partially called
oi)" his thoughts from the painful theme Willi which they
had been exclusively occupied, and the cfl‘ect was most
beneficial. The first violent burst of fevlin was past,
and a calmer train of thought succeeded ; he or the first
time remembered the boy had forgiven him, and that was
ugrvut consolation to him : he recalled. too, his own
words, pledging to Gustavus his friendship, and in this
pleasing hope of the future he saw much to redei-iu
what he regretted of the past. Still, however, the wild
have of the pine-torch over the lone grave of his adver-
sary and the horrid answer at the grave-digger that ho
was at “ finishing his work,“ would recur to his memory
and awake an internal pang.

. From this painful reminiscence he sought to escape b
looking furward to all he would do for Gustavus, and ii i
heconie much calmer, when the glimmer of a light not fir
ahead attracted him, and he so Ill was enabled to rcelve
it proceeded from some buildings that lay on h a rim,
not far from the road. He turned up the foll"l’i Ipath w icln
f orined the approach, and the li viit escn ell tirough the
chinks of a large door, which in icated t e place to be a
coach-house, or some such oflice, belonging to the general
Dill“. which seemed in a ruinous condition.

As he approached, Edward heard rude sounds of merri~
nient, amongst which the joining of many voices in a
rec-raw" chorus indicated that a carouae was going
forward within.

911 reaching the door he could perceive through a wide
cliink a group of men sitting round a turf fire piled at
the far end of the building, which had no fire-place
and the smoke, curlln upwards to the roof, wreathe
the rafters in smoke; eneatl: this vaililory canopy the
nirty sat drinking and singing, and ‘dward, ere be
mocked for admittance, istened to the following
strange refrain:—

“llbr in name it is Jimm Barlow,
I was in the town Harlow,
And lien Illa in Mary
Allfor flu robbing of l

h jail.
Ila Wicklow ma“
Fol do ml (14 riddindk-tdol"
Then the principle sin or took up the son . which
seemed to he one of rob ry, blood, and mm er, for it
ran thus:—
" Then be cooked his pistol
And stood before him brovgelfiylf’
Smoke and fire is my desire,
So blaze away, my game-cock squire
17hr my name it is Jimmy Barlow,
[was born, the,“ 4

Edward O‘Connor knocked at the door lou -

words. he bad Just heard about “ pistols,“ 2] full-‘7
uwa , ‘ and, last of all, "squire," fell gratingly on his car
at t at moment. and seemed strangely to connect them-
selves vaithhthe grevlou; gdvgntures of the night and his
own on o g , an 0 eat ‘ t
“0mg.- y . again: the door with
'i‘lie chorus ceased; Edward repeated his knockin .
_5till there was no answer; but he heard low an huh
ried muttering inside. Determined, however, to ain ad-
mittance, Edward laid hold of an iron hasp outs do the
door, which enabled him to shake the gate with Violence,
that there might be no excuse on the part of the inmates
that they did not bear; but in tha maki the old door
rattle in its frame it suddenly yielded to ii touch and
creaked open on its rusty hinges; for when Larry Hogan
had entered, it had been forgotten to be barred.

A_s Edward stood in the open doorw , the first object
which met his eye was the coffin—and t is impossible to
say how much at that moment the sight shocked him; he
shuddered involuntaril , yet could not withdraw his e on _
from the revolting ob cot; and the pallet with which in
previous mental uniriety had lnvusted his c wok
us he looked on this last tenement of morality. “Ami
to see nothin but the evidences of death‘s doin% this
iught‘? was t e mental question which shot throng Ed-
ward s over-wrought brain an he grew livid at the
thought: He looked more like one raised from the rave
than a living help and a wild hire in his eyes ran cred
llldla pearaiice still more uneartfiiy. He felt that shame
whic men always exgorisnco in allowing their feelin s
to overcome them; an b a great effort is mastered h s
emotion and spoke,bnt t e vmcc [fin-took of the strong
nervous excitement under which e laboured: find was
hollow and broken, and seemed more like that which one
might fanc to proceed from the jaws of asepulchre than
one of aesil and blood. Beaten by the storm. too, his
hair hung in wet flakes over his face and added to his
ii ild appearance, so that the men all started up at the first
glimpse they can 'ht of him, and huddled themselves to-

ether in the fart est corner of the building, fron; whence

he eyed him with evident alarm. '

dward thought some whisk might check the feel

of faintneas which overcame h m; and though he doe
it probable he had broken in upon the nocturnal revel o
desperate and lawless men, he neveriheloss asked them
to g ve him some; but instead of displaying that alacrit)
so universal in Ireland, of sharing the “ creature “ with a
new-comer the men onl dpointed to the bottle which ‘
stood besides the tire, an ew closer together.

Edward‘s desire for the stimulant was so great, that he
scarcely noticed the singular want of courtesy on the

of the men; and seizing the bottle (for thus was as
has), he at it to his lips, and quafled a hearty dram of

a spirit ore he spoke. .
, u I must for shelter and assistance 11 , " said Ed-
wu-di "M horse I fear has slipped his shou deo———"

Be are it could utter another word, a simultaneous
roar of‘ terror burst from the group; they fancied the

 

triis. Still. however. was he “'de down-
‘3&%& “ling no longer sat . Quite h on, and aluminum

iiostof Jimmy Barlow was been mound loads
a _ mmmmisflv Filmy“;

 

 

-._..-,~_—-::.gv,;:a.~:. .:: ;.-: .... .

a”: we

 

i‘ne N ew xorK moral,

 

the horse at the door, another yell escaped them, as they
tied with increased speed and terror. Edward stood in
amazement as the men rushed from his presence; he fol-
lowed to the gate to recall them; they were gone; he
could only hear their yells in the distance. The circum-
stance seemed quite unaccountable; and as he stood
lost in vain surmises as to the cause of the strange oc-
currence, a low neigh of recognition from the horse re-
minded liiin of t e animal‘s waiit's and he led him
Into the barn, where, from the plenty of straw, which
my around, he shook down a litter where the maimed
animal might rest.
, He then paced up and down the barn, lost in wonder
at the conduct of those whom he found there, and
' whom his presence had so suddenly expelled- and ever
as he walked towards the fire, the coflin caught his eye.
As a Mini blaze occasionally arose, it flashed upon the
plate. which brightly reflected the flame, and Edward
was irresistibly drawn, despite his original impression
of horror at the object. to approach and read the in-
ucriplion. The shield bore the name of “O’Grad ,“
and Edward recalled from the coflin with a shud er,
and inwardly asked was he in his waking senses. lie
had but an hour ago seen his adversary laid in his
grave, yet here was his cofliu again before him, as if to
iarrow up his soul anew. Was it real, or a mockery?
Was he the the sport of a dream, or was there some
dreadful curse fallen upon him, that he should be for
ever haunted by the victim of his arm, and the call or
vengeance for blood be evar upon his truck? Ile
breathed short and hard, and the smoky atmosphere in
which he was enveloped rendered respiration still more
dimcult. As throu h this oppressive vapor, which seemed
only flt for the net er world, he saw the coffin- late flash
back the flame, his ima 'nation accumulated orror on
horror ; and when the b aze sank, and but the bright red
of the tire was reflected, it seemed to him to burn, as it
were, with a spot of blood, and he could support the
scene no ion er, but rushed from the barn in a state of
mind borde ng on frenzy.
It was about an hour afterwards, near midnight, that
the old barn was in flames- most likely some of the straw
near the fire, in the confusion of the breaking up of the
party, had been scattered within range of ignition, and
caused the accident. The flames were seen for miles
. round the country, and the shattered walls of the ruined
mansion-house were illuminated brightly by the glare of
the consumin barn, which in the morning added its own
blackened an reeking min to the desolation. and crowds
of persons congrega‘ ed to the spot for many days after.
The charred planks of the coffin Were dragged from
amongst the ruin; and as the roof in falling in, bad
dragged a let e portion of the wall along with it, the
stones which ad tilled the coffin could not be distin-
iniished from those of the fallen building, therefore
much wonder arose that no vestige of the bones of the
cores it was supposed to contain should be discovered.
Wonder increased to horror, as the strange fact was ro-
mulgated, and in the ready credulity of a superstiiious
people, the terrible belief became general, that his sable
majesty had made off with O'Grady and the party notch-
iug him; for as the Dublin bailiffs never stopped till they
0t back to town, and were never again seen in the cilllllv
.ry, it was most natural to suppose that the devil had
‘ made ahaul of them at the same time. In a few days ru-
mor added the spectral appearance of Jim Barlow to the
tale, which only deepened its mysterious horror; and
though, after some time, the true story was promulgated
by tliosewho knew the real state ol the case, yet the
truth never gained ground, and was con-idered but ll
clever sham, attempted by the family}, to prevent so
dreadful a storyfrom attachin to their onse; and tradi-
tion pe etuates to this hour t ebelief that the devil/[err
away tit O‘G'mdy. -
Lone and ruined as the hill was where the ruined house
stood, it became more lone and shunned than ever, and
the boldest heartin the whole country-side would quail
to be in its vicinity, even in the day-time. 'l‘o such a
pitch the panic rose, that an extensive farm which en-
circled it, and belonged to the id usurer who made the
seizure, fell into a profltless sta from the impossibility
of men being found to work upon it. It was useless
even as pasture, for no one could be found to herd
cattle upon it; alto ether it was a serious loss to tho
money-grubber; an so far the incident of theburnt barn,
and the tradition it gave rise to, acted beneficially in nisk-
lug the inhuman set of warring with the dead recoil upon
the merciless old usurer.

 

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

We left Andy in what may be railed adellcate situa-
tion, and though Andy’s perceptions of the refined were
not veryacnte, he hiinsel began to wonder how he should
get out of the dilemma into which circumstances had
thrown him; and even to his dull compreheiisioun va-
riousterminations to his adventute suggested themselves,
till he became quite confused in the c aos which his own
thou hts created. One good idea, however, Andy cou-
trive to is hold of out of the bundle which perplexed
him- he fe t that to gain time would be an advantare,
and if evil must come of his adventure, the longer file
could keep it off the better: so he ke L up his afiectution
of timidity, and put in his sobs and ainentatlons, like so
many commas and colons, as it were, to prevent Bridget
from arriving at her climax of going to be .

Bridget insisted bed was the finest thing in the world
for a oung woman in distress of mind.

An y protested he never could rget a wink of sleep
when his mind was uneasy. B dget promised the
most sisterly tenderness.

Andy answered by a lament for his mother.

“ Come to bed, I ell you," said Bridget.

“ Are the sheets aired Y" sobbed Andy. I

“ What!" exclaimed Bridget, in amazement. r

“If your are not sure of the sheets bein‘ aired," said
, Andy, “I'd be afeard of catchin' cowld.“

p “Sheets, indeedl" said Bridget' “ faith, it's a dainty
lady on are, if you can‘t sleep wit out sheets.”

“ at!" returned Andy, “no sheets?"

1 "Divil a sheet."

“ 0h, mother, motherl“ exclaimed And ,
would you say to your innocent child being t
a place where there was no sheets?"

“ Well, 1 never heard the like!" says Bridget.

“ Oh, the villainsl tobrlng rue where I wouldn‘t luvs
a bit 0‘ clane linen to lie inl ‘

" what
away to

but, without the attendant "genius" to hold

is «luv ,cyl
poor girl was wit mm a sheet this uightl“

And so Andy went on, spinning his bit f “ linen man-
ufacture“ as long as he could, and raising Bridget‘s
wonder that, instead of the lament which abducted ladies
generally raise about their “ vartue," this young woman‘s
principal complaint arose on the scarcity of flux. Bridget
uple all to common sense if blankets were not good
enough in these bad times; insisting, moreover, that, as
"love was warmer than friendship, so wool was warmer
than flux " the beauty of which parallel case neverthe-
less failed to reconcile the disconsolate abducted. Now
Andy had pushed his plea of the want of linen as far as
he thought it would go, and when Bridget returned to the
charge, and reiterated the oft-repeated "Come to bed, I
tell youl“ Andy had recourse to twiddiing about his toes,
and chattering his teeth, and exclaimed in a tremulous
voice, “ 0h, l’ve a tlirimblin‘ all over inel”

“ Loosen the sthrings 0’ you, then," said Bridget, about
to suit the action to the word. .
1_ ngl owl" cried Andy, “don‘t touch me-I’m tick-
is .

“Then open the throat 0‘ your gown yourself, dear,"
said Bridget. .

“I‘ve u cowld on in chest, and darn‘t," said Andy'
,‘J‘biititl’think a dhrop 0 hot punch would do me good if i

at .

“And lenty of it,“ said Bridget, “if that‘ll plaze
you." S e rose as she spoke, and set about getting “ the
materials “ for making punch. I

Andy hoped, by means of this last idea, to drink
Bridget into a state of unconsciousness and then make
his escape; but he had no notion, until he tried, what a
capacity the gentle Bridget had for carrying tumblers of
punch steadily; he proceeded as cunnineg as possible
and, on the score of “ thc thrimblin‘ over him,“ repeate
the doses of limb, which, nevertheless, be protested he
couldn‘t touc 1, unless Bridget kept him in countenance,
vlass for glass; and Bridget—genial soul—was no way
oth; for living in a still, and among smu triers, as she
did, it was not a trifle of stingo could bring er to a halt.
Andy, even with the advantage of the stronger organiza-
tion of anian. found this mountain has nearly a match
for him, and before the potations operated as he hoped
upon her, his own senses be an to feel the influence of
the liquor, and his caution ecame considerably under-
llllne .

Still, however, be resisted the repeated ofiers of the
couch proposed to him, declaring he wmld sleep in his
plotlies, and leave to Bridget the full possession of her
air.

The fire began to burn low, and Andy thought he might
facilitate his escape by counterfeiting slee ; so feigning
rlumber as well as he could, lie serum to sink into
insensibility, and Bridget unrobed herself and retired
behind a rough screen.

It was by a great efiort that Andy kept himself awake,
for his potations, added to his nocturnal excursion, tended
towards somnolency; but the desire of escape, and fear
of a discover and its consequences, prevailed over the
ordinary ten eucy of nature, and he remained awake,
watching every sound. The silence at last became ain—
f ul—so still was it, that he could hear the small crum ling
sound of the dyin embers as they decomposed and shifted
their posiiion on t ie hearth, and yet he could not be satis-
iied from the breathingof the woman that she slept. After
the lapse of half an hour, however, he ventured to make
some movement. He had well observed the quarter in which
the outlet from the cave lay, and there was still a faint
glimmer from the fire to assist him in crawling towards
the trap. It was a relief, when, after some minutes of
cautious creeping, he felt the fresh air breathing from
above, and a moment or two more brought him in con-
tact with aladder. With the stealth of a cat he began
to climb the rungs—he could hear the men snoring on
the outside of the cave: step by step as he arose he felt
his heart beat faster at the thought of escape, and be-
came more cautious. At length his head emerged from
the cave, and he saw the men lying about its month:
they in close around it—he must sue over them to es
capo— e ascends still higher—his out is on the last
run of the ladder—the next step puts him on the heather
—w en hefecls a hand lay hold of him from below!

His heart died within 11 m at the touch, and he could
not resist an exclamation. _

“Who‘s that?" exclaimed one of the men outside.
Andy crouched.

“Uomedown,” said the voice softly from below; “ if
Jack sees you, it will be worse for on."

It was the voice of Bridget, an Andy felt it was bet-
ter to be with her than exposed to the savagery of Shah
More and his niyrimidoiis; so he descende quietly,aud
gave himself u to the tight hold of Budget, who, with
man asseverat one that ‘out of her arms she would
not let her prisonergo till morning,“ led him back to
the cave.

I

 

CHAPTER XXXIX.

‘ Great wit to madness nearly in allied,
And thin partitions do the ounds divide."

Bo sings the ct whether the wit be great or little,
the “ thin partltion’ se crating madness from sanity is
equally mysterious. It s true that the excitability at.
tendinit upon genius ap roxiinatesso closely to madness,
that it is sometimes di cult to distinguish between them;
up the train
of madness, and call for our special permission and respect
in any of its fantastic excursions, the most ordinary
crack-brain sometimes chooses to sport in the regions of
sanity, and, without the license, which genius is supposed
to dispense to her children, poach over the preserves of
common sense. This is a well-known fact, and would
not be reiterated here, but that the Circumstances abput
to be recorded hereafter might seem unworthy of belief;
and as the veracity of our history we would not have for
one moment questioned, we have ventured to jog the
memory of our readers as to the close neighborhood of
madness and common sense, befort'we record a curious
gigantic of intermitting madness in the old dowager
ra . . .

Her syon‘s death had, by the violence of the shock,
dragged her from the region of fiction in which she habit-
ual y existed! but after the funeral she relapsed into all
her strange aberrations, and her bird-clock and her chim-
DGIIQ-Dot head-dress were once more in requisition.

0hi mother, mother, if you thought _our ‘

hear the old blind man at the fair
loss of his blessed opticsl‘ “

uiust study. I will give you the renowned
book. Charlotte tore some out of it for curl pa era; but
there's enough left to enlighten
rays

I hope
leave us his money."

want it; and indeed, gran, you ought to
shillings for ten days” teachln , now'; and ‘safair
next week, and 1 want to buy

nrlH' .s grandmsmma, was, “ for the nonce,“ her clos
eted companion. Many a guess was given as to“ what
in the world " andmamma could want with Betty; but
the secret was ept between them, for this reason, that
the old lady kept the reward she promised Ratty for re-
serving it in her own hands until the duty she requ red
on his part should be accomplished, and the shilling a day
to which Itatt looked forward kept him faithful.

Now, the uty Master Ratty had to perform was inn
structiug his grandmamma how to handle a pistol; the
bringing up quick to the mark, and leveling by “the
sight,” was explained; but a difficult arose in the old
lady‘s shutting er left eye, which Ratty declared to be
indispciirable, and for some time Ratty was obliged to
stand on acliair and cover his andinainiiia‘s eye with
his hand while she took aim; t iis was found inconven-
ient, however, and the old lady substituted a black silh
shade to obfuscate her sinister luminary in her exercises,
which now advanced to sniippin r the lock, and knockin
sparks from the flint, which niar e the old lady wink witE
her right eye. When this second habit was overcome,
the “dry” practice, that is, without powder, was given
up; and a “flash in the pan" was ventured upon, but
this made her shut both eyes together, and it was some
time before she could revail on herself to hold her eye
fixed on her mark, and, pull the trigger. This, however
at last was accomplished, and when she had conquers
the fear of sceiiiy the flash, she adopted the phiii of
standingr before a éhandsome old-fashioned looking~giass
wh'ch reached from the ceiling to the floor, and levelling
the pistol at her own reflection within it. as if she Were
engaged in mortal combat; and every time she snap ed
an burned priming she would exclaim, “ I hit him tiat
timel—l know i can kill him~trmble, villain l“

As long as this pistol ractice had the charm of
novelty for Ratty, it was very well; but when. day
by day, the strange mistakes and nervousness of his
grandmamma became less <piquent from repltition, it
was not such good fun; an when the rantlpolc boy, af-
ter as much time as he wished to devote to the old woman‘s
caprice, endeavored to emancipate himself and was coun-
tcruiundcd, an outburst of “Oh bother!“ would take
plilce, till the grandmother called 11 the prospective
shillings to his View, and Ratty bowed efore the altar of
Mammon. But even Mnmmon failed to keep Ratty
lo val; for that heathen 0d, Memos, claimed a superior
a1 egience; Ratty wors ii ed the ‘cap and bells" as
the true crown, and “ e bauble" as the sovereign
sceptre. Besides, the secret became troublesome to
him, and be determined to let the whole house know
what“ gran " and he were about, in a way of his own.

The young imp, in the next day‘s practice, worked up
the grandmaunnato a state of great excitement ur lug
her to take a cool and determined aim at thaiook ng-
glass. “ Cover him well. gran," said Batty.

“I will," said the dowager, resolutely.

“ You ought to be able to hit him ac. six paces "

“I stand at twelve paces."

“ No, you are only six from the Ioohiugglw "

“ But the reflection, child, in the mirror, doubles the
distance.

“ Botherl" said Batty.
your eye and don’t wink."

“ tty, you are singularly obtuse to the chs'irs cf sci-
ence."

“ what‘s sciencei" said Ratty.

“Science, child, is knowledge of a lofty and untrue
nature, developing itself in wonderful inventionr—znui
powder, for instance, is made by science."

“Indeed it is not," said Batty; “ I never saw his narm
ona canister. Pigou, Andrew, and Wilks, or Mr Dari
ford Mills arc the men for gunpowder. You know noth
ing about it, gran.“

‘ Batty, you are disrespectful, and will not listen to in-
struction. I knew Kirwan—the sreat Kirwan, the chem
ist, who always wore his hat—"

“Then he knew chemistry better than manners."

“ Ratty, you are very troublesome. I desire on listen,
sir. Kirwan, sir told me all about science, an the Dub
lin Sociel y have his picture, with a bottle in his hand—"

“ Then he was fond of drink,“ said Batty.

“Ratty, don‘t be pert. To come back to what I was
originally as inf—I repeat, sir, I am at twelve aces from
my object, a x rain the mirror, whic double by reliec

“Here, take a pistol—mind

tiou, makes twelve' such is the law 0 optics. I suppose
you know what

9'
o‘ptfis are!

“ To be sure I
“ Tell me, then."

“ Our e es,“ said Batty.

“ Eyesl ' exclaimed the old lady, in amaze.

" To be sure," answered Batty boldlv. “ Didn‘t l
asking charity ‘for tho

“ Oh, what lamentable ignorance, my childl" exclaimed

2;! old lady. “Your tutor ought to be ashamed of him-

"So he is," said Ratty. “ He hasn‘t had a. of new

breaches for the last seven years, and he hi es himself
whenever he sees momma or the gi

rls."

“ Oh, you ignorant childl Indeed, Batty, my love, you
irwan’s
you with e Inn‘s
and reflection and refractiou—“
" i know what that is," sold Batty.

“ What?"

“ Refraction. “

“ And what is it, dear?"

“ Bad behavior," said 

“ 0h, beavensl“ exclalme his grandmother.

“Yes, it is," said Ratt stoutly; “ the tutor says I‘m

Y
refractory when I behave ill; and he know Latin better
than you.“

" Ratty, Batty, you are hopelessl" exclaimed his grand

“ No I amnot." said Ratt . I‘m hlwa s . And
zUncle Robert will break his necky $333,, and

The old Woman turned up her eyes, and exclaimed,

mamma.

“ You wicked boyl“

“ Fudgol", said Batty; “he‘s an old shaver. and we
vs the ten

ngs.’

“Ratty, I told on when you made me perfectinthe

use of m weapon would pay you. My promise is sacred.
and I wl

observe it with that scrupulous honor which

“ Sure. there‘s blankets I tell you,"

i be old lad had her usual attendance from her grand- has ever been the characteristic of the family; as soon as
‘9 “0 don‘t talk to me.' roareu‘Andy; “annyou know daughter, an the customary offering of down was Ihit something, and satis my of my mate“.
{I fleets only decent." ‘ ten "8d. but thgy were not so cared r as before, and the weapon, the mops she be yours, but not till “
' "Bother, girl! Isn’t l lung woolly blanket a fine Charlotte was smissed sooner than usual from her “0h, very well,‘ said Batty; “go on then. RM!
e in f“ morning‘s attendance. and a new favo.ite received in her {—

 

 

don‘t brin u ourarm/ that wav. like the handle a
“ 51:, don't brake my heart that-o,- pnmp hntszuy o

i" Iohbed And -
“attachment-nan! 3'

I’m»- hack. but lines

it also from the elbow—that‘s it. Read.

ace. And "of all the birds in the air," who should this
write ho but Master M. Yell-om afloat-

Ahl there you blink your eye. and drop the peat

 

-.., Nah,» ,... .-

 

 

Handy Andy.

45

 

'

 

your pistol—try another. Ready—fin! That's better,

aw steady the next time."

The young villain then put a charge of powder and
"all into the pistol he handed his grandmother, who
look steady aim at her retlcction in the mirror, and at
the words, “Ready—fire!" bang went the pistol—the
magnificent glass was smashed—the unexpected recoil
of the weapon made it drop from the hand of tile dow-
nger, who screamed with astonishment at the report and
the shock and did not see for a moment the mischief
she had done; but when the shattered mirror cuu ht
her e es, she made a rush at Rt'tt , who was screeching
with aughtcr in the far corner oft 0 room where he ran
to when he had achieved his trick, and he was so hwlp-
less from the excess of his cachination, that the old 1m y
united him without his being able to defend himself.
At last he contrived to get out of her clutches and jam-
iucd her against the wall with a table so tightly, that she
roared “Murder!” The report of the pistol ringing
throurh the house brought all its inmates to the spot;
and t ere the cries of murder from the old lady h-d t em
to suppose some awful tragedy, instead of a comedy, was
.Aniictinginside; thedoor was ocked,too, which increased
the alarm, and was forced in the moment of terror from
the outside. When the crowd rushed- in, Master Ratty
rushed out. and left the astonished family to gather up
the hits of the story. as well as the could, from the

 

Ill'ltiit'l‘. hrfllnqglass and the cracked owager.
CHAPTER XL.

’l'noiruu it. is clear the serious events in the

H'Urady family had not altered Master Ratty‘s

pro ensities in the least, the case was far diflferent
wit Gustavus. In that one night of sufierlng which)“
had passed, the (gulf was lea ed that divides the boy
Iran the man; an the extra rivolity and carelessness
which clung from bo hood up to the a e of fifteen was
at once. by the and en disrupture pro need by evonts
thrown off, and as singular a ripening into mnnhoo

commenced.

Gustavus was of a generous nature; and even his faults
belonged less to his organization than to the devil-may-
care sort of education e received, if education it might
be called. U on his generosity the conduct of Edward
()‘Uonner bcs des the grave of the boys father had worked
strongly; niid though Gustavus con (1 not give his hand
beside the grave to the man with whom bis fatherhad
engaged in dcadl quarrel, tyet be quite exonerated Ed-
ward from an blame; an when, after a night more
sleepless than ustavus had ever known, he rose early on
the ensuing morning. be determined to ride over to Ed-
wurd O‘Conner‘s house to breakfast, and commence that
friendship which Edward had so solemnly promised to
him, and with which the boy was leased; for Gustavus
was quite aware in what estimat an Edward was held;
and thouab the relative circumstances in which he
and the fate Squire stood prevented the boy from
“caring a fig " for him, as he often said himself,
yet he was not beyond the influence of that thing
called “ reputation,‘ which so powerfully attaches
to and elevates the man who Wins it: and the price at
which Edward was held in the country influenced opinion
even in Neck-or-Nothing Hall, albeit though “against
the grain." Gustavus had sometimes heard, from the
lips of the idle and i orant, Edward sneorcd at for bein
" cruel wise “ and “ oo much of a schoolmaster," and ii
for nothin but books or u boudoir and called a “ piano
man “ wit all the rest of the hackneyed ” dirt “ which
jenlo'us inferiority loves to fling at the hei hts it cannot
occupy; for thongh—us it has been said— dwsrd, from
his manly and sensible bearing, had escaped such sneers
better than most men still some fe w there were to whom
his merit was ofleus vc. Gustavus, however, though he
sometimes heard such things, saw with his own eyes that
Edward could back a horse with any man in the country—i
was always foremost in the chase—conid bring down as
many brace of birds as most men in a day—had saved one
or two persons from drowning; and if he did all these
things as well as other men, Gustavus (though hitherto too
idle to learn much himself) did not see why a man should
be sneered at for beln an accomplished scholar as well.
Therefore he had 00 foundation for beln rpleased at the
proflered friends'li of such a man, an remembering
the poignancy of E ward‘s anguish on the foregom eve,
Gustavus generously resolved to see him at once an offer
him the hand which a nice sense of feeling made him
withhold the night before. M ountln his pony, an hour s
smart ridiur7 brou ht him to Mount skar, for such was
the name 0 Mr. ‘Counor‘s residence.

It wns breakfast-time when GustaVus arrived, but Ed-
ward had not yet left his room, and the servant went to
call him. It need scarce be said‘that Edward had passed
a wretched night; reaching home, as he did, wear in
mind and body, and with feelings and imagination 0th
ever-wrought, it was long before he could sleep; and even
then his slumbers were disturbed by harassing visions
and frightful ims es. Spectral shapes and thin simim.
nvrinable to the We ing senses danced and crew ed and
hissed about him. The torch flared above the ave, and
that horred coffin, with the name of the den 0 Grady
u n it “ murdered sleep." It was dawn before augthin
it e rs reshin slumber touched his feverish eyeli s, an
he had not enJo ed more than a couple of hours of what
might be calle slee ,wben the servant called him; and
then, after the brief 0 livion he had obtained. one may
fancy how he started when the first words he heard on
waking Were, “ Mister O'Grady is below, sir.

Edward started up from his bed and stareduwiildly on
the man, as he exclaimed, withalook of alarm, O Grady!
tor God’s sake, on don't say O‘Grad i"

“ ‘Tis Master famiaséavus ‘sir," said t 9 man, wondering

ldness o w s manner.
‘t‘gghfvihe boyi—ay, ay, the boy!" repeated Edward,
drawing his hands across his eyes and recovering his self-
possession. “ So, I will be downpresently." _

The man retire and Edward lay down again for some
minutes to calm the heavy bectin of his heart which the
sudden mention of that name be produced; that name so
linked with the mental agoniof the past night; that name
which had conjured up a we ing horror of such. might as
to shake the sway of reason for a time, and which after-
“ ards pursued its reign of terror through his sleep}. After
such a m ht, fancy poor Edward doomed to heart 6 name
cf O‘G y again thel first e131 the “mining, Ind we
cannot wonder that e was s . _

A few minutes however, served to restore his self.
possession; and cross, made his toilet in huts,
and descended to the breakfast- srlor, where he was
met b Gustavus with an 033:: band. which Edward
claspc with fervor and h for some time as he
looked on the handsome face of the Maya and saw in
he frank expression all shot his heart con] ellrc. They

«

 

spoke not I word, but they understood one another; and
t iat moment commenced an attachment which increased
with increasing intimacy, and became one of those stead-
fast friendshi s which are seldom met with.

After break ust Edward brought Gustavus to his “ don,"
as he called uroom which was a propriatcd to his own
particular use, occupied with books and a small collection
of natural relics. Some long ranges of that peculiar
calf binding, with its red label, declared at once the con-
tents to be law; and by the dry formal cut of the exterior
fave little inVitation to reading. The very outside! of a

aw library is repulsive; the continuity of that eternal
bufi leather gives one a surfeit by anticipation, and makes
one mentally excluan iii dos air, “ lleavensl how can any
one hope to get all that into is head?" The only plain,
honest thing about law is the outside of the books where
it is laid down—there all is simple; inside all is complex.
The interlacing lines of the bindcr‘s patterns find no place
on the covers; but intricacies abound inside, where any
line is easier found than a strai ht one. Nor gold leaf
nor tool is emplo ed without, ut within how man -fal-
lacies are envelope in glazin words; the old lea has
its representative in “lqnl so on;" and as or “tooling,”
there is plenty of that!

Other ooks, also bore external evidence of the nature
of their contents. Some old parchment covers indicated
the lore of past ages; amidst these the brightest names of
Greece and Rome were to be found, as well as those who
have adorned our own literature, and iinpliod a cultivated
taste on the part of the owner. But one portion of the
library was particularly well stored. The works bearing
on Irish history were numerous, and this mi ht well ac-
count for the order of Edward‘s feelings in t is cause of
his country; for it is as impossible that a river should rim
backwards to its source, as that any lrishman of a gener-
ous nature can become ac uaiiited with the real histor
of his country, and not fee that she has been an ill-used
and neglected land, and not struggle in the cause of her
being righted. Much has been done in the cause since the
days of which this stor treats, and Edward was amon st
those who helped to no love it‘ but much has still to e
done, and there is lorious work in store for present and
future Edward O‘ ouuors.

Alon with the books which spoke the cause of
Irelun , the mute evidences, also, of her former
glory and civilization were scattered through the room.

ar ous ornaments of elegant form, and wrou ht
in the purest gold, were tastefully arran ed over he
mantel-piece; some from their form, in icating their
use, and others only affording matter of in enious
speculation to the nntiquary, but all bearin evi ence of
early civilization. The frontlet of old in icuted noble
estate, and the.long and tapering odkin of the sumo
metal, With its richly encliased knob or pendant crescent,
implied the robe it once fastened could have been of no
mean texture, and the wearer of no mean rank. Weapons
were there, too of elegant form and ex uisite workman-
ship. wrought in that ancient bronze, 0 such wondrous
temper that it carries effective edge and point. The sword
was of exact Phoenician mould; the double-eyed spear-
head, formed at once for strength and lightness, might
have served as the model for a sculptor in ai-min ;thc hand
of Minerva. Could these be the work of an uncultivated
people? Impossiblel The bar , too, was there, that no-

ailing mark of olish and sociu ele ance. The hard and
barbarism coul never be coeval. . iit a relic was there,
exciting still deeper interest—an ancient cinder, of curious
workmanshi , wrou ht in the precious metals and part1
studded wit jewe s- but few of the letter romaine ,
though the empty coilets showed it had once been costly
in such ornaments. Could this be seen without remember—
ing that the light of Cbrlstiauit first dawned over the
western isles in Ireland] that Mvcra the Gospel was first
preached, More the work of salvation begun?

There be cold hearts to which these touching recollec-
tions do not pertain and they heed them notl and some
there are, who; with s callousness which shocks sens-
ibility, have the ignorant eflroutery to ask “ Of what use
are such recollections?" With such fri dutilitariuns it
would be vain to argue; but this question, at least may be
put in returnz—Why should the ancient. glories 0 Greece
and Rome form a large portion of the academic studies of
our youthi—why ahead the evidences of their arts and
their arms be held precious in museums, and similar evi-
dences of ancient cultivation be despised because the
pertain to another nation? Is it because they are Iris

hey are held in contempt! Alas! in many cases it is so—
uy, and even (shame to say) within her own shores. But
never me that an umve when Ireland shall be without
enough 0 true on fond hearts to cherish the memory of
her ancient glories to give to her future sons the evi-
dences of her earliest western civilization, provin that
their foreathers were not (as those say who wron c and
therefore would malign them) a. rabble of rude bar arlans,
but that brave kings, and proud princes, and wise law-

Ive“, and just judges, and gallant chiefs, and chaste and
ovely women among them, and that inspired bards were
there to per etuate such memoriesl

Gustavus Ihad never before seen a crosier, and asked
wall)? it was, ()n being ‘ingo’rined of its name, he then
s , “But what is a crosier

“A bishop’s pastoral stun,“ said Edward-

"And why have ya? aybishop's stall, and swords. and
s are him 11 to ' er ‘

psTh'at isg ngt £1an iroprlutc,“ said Edward. “Un-
fortunately, the swor and the crosier have been fre-
quently but too intimate companions. Preaching the
word of peace has been too often the pretext for war.
The S aniards, for instance, in the name of the gospel,
comm tted the most fearful atrocities.“

“Oh, I know,“ said Gustavus “ that was in the time or
bloody Mary and the Armada. .

Edward wondered at the boy a ignorance, and saw in
an instant the source of his fa so up licatlou of his alln.
gion to the Spaniards. Gustavus ad been taught to
vaguely couple the name of “bloody Mary.“ With every.
thing bad, and that of “good‘Queeu Bgss with all that
was giofioug; and the word Spanish, in oor Gust ’3
head, had been hitherto connected with twoi eag’ nuns y,
“it uorice" and the “Armst-

E ward, without wounding the sensitive shame 0‘ lg.
nor-nut, youth ently set him ri rht, and made him aware
he had alluded % grie conduct of be Spaniards in America

orth an 18110-

nan:: (she first time in his life Gustavus was aware that
Pizarro was a real character. He had heard his grand-
mmma speak of I play of '11“ name, and how at Mr.
Kembie was in Roi o, and how he saved a ch11 ; but as
to n; belonging)? history! it was a new light—the utmost
Gusty knew a ut Ame cnbelng that it was discovered
by Columbus. “

“But the erosion“ Bald Edwud. in mg?“ the most
interesting of Irish antiquities, sud upec y bolas: to
- Irish collection. when you member the alt

 

preaching of Christianity in the western isles was in iro-
au ."

“ I did only no that,“ said the boy.

“ Then you don‘t know why the shamrock is our nation-
al emblem i“

"No," said Gustavus, “ though I take care to mount
one in my but every Patrick‘s day.“

“ Well," said Edward, anxious to give Gustavus credit
for any knowledge he possessed, “ you know at least it is
connected with t e memor of St. Patrick, though you
don‘t know why. I will to l on. When St. Patrick first
preached the C ristiun faith n Ireland, before a powerful
chief and his geople when he spoke of one God. and of
the Trinity, t e chief asked how one could be in three.
St. Patric , instead of attempting a theological definition
of the faith, thought a simple image would best servo to
cull hten a simple people, and stoopiniy to the earth he
piuc ed from t 3 men sod is shamrock, and holding up
the trefoil before t cm, he bade them there behold one in
three. The chief, struck by the illustration, asked at once
to be baptized, and all his sept followed his exam le."

“Incvcr heard that before." said Gustv. “‘ 3 very
beautiful."

“ I wrll tell you something else Connected with it,“ said
Edward.

“After baptizing the chief, St. Patrick made an elo-
(plient exhortation to the assembled multitude, and in
t e course of his address, while enforcing his
urgent appeal With appropriate gesture, as ihc hand
which held his creator, after being raised towards
heaven descended again towards the earth, the point of
his st , armed with metal, was driven through the foot of
the chief, who, fanc ing it was part of the ceremony, and
but a necessary test ng of the firmness of his faith, never
winced “

“ He was a fine fellow,“ said Gusty. “ And is that the
crosier?" he added, alluding to the one in Edward‘s col
lection, and manifestly excited by what he had heard.

“No,” said Edward, “but one of early date, and be-
longing to some of the first preachers of the gospel
amongst us.“

“And have you other things here with such beautiful
stories belonging to them?‘ inquired Gusty, eager for
\nOfe of that romantic lore which youth loves so passion-
ate . -
“hot that. I know of " answered Edward; “ but if
these ob set: here had only tonfii’ies if every sword, and
belt, an spear-head. and golden ad in, and other trinket
could spea , no doubt we should hear stirring stories of
gallant warriors and their ladye-loves.“

“ Aye, that would be something to bear!" exclaimed

s

Gu t .

“ Well," said Edward, “ you may have men such
stories by readiii the history of our country; w ich if
you have not rea , I can lend you ooks enough."

“(31% thank you,“ said Gusty; “I should like it so
muc .

Edward up reached the book-shelf and selected a volume
he thought t is most likely to interest so little practiced a
reader‘ and when he turned round he saw Gusty poising
in his and an anti ue Irish sword of bronze.

“Do you know W at that is?" inquired Edward.

“Ican‘t tell you the name of t,“ answered Gusty.
“ but I suppose it was something to stick a fellow.“

Edward smiled at the characteristic reply, and told him
it was an anti ue Irish sword.

“ A word! he exclaimed. “ Isn't it short for s
cw

“ All the sword: of that do were short."

“When was that?" inquire the boy.

“ Somewhere about two thousand cars ago."

“Two thousand years,“ exclalme Gusty, in surprise.
“How is it possible you can tell this is two thousand
years old?"

“ Because it is made of the some metal and of the same
sha e as the swords found at Cannes, where the 'Cartba-
gin ans fought the Romans."

“ I know the Roman history “ said Gusty, eager to dis-
play hls~little bit of knowle go; “I know the Roman

istory. Romulus and Remus were educated by a wolf."

Edward could not resist a smile, which he soon
suppressed, and continued:—“ Such works as you
now hold in your hand are found in audits: in
Ireland, and seldom an here also in urope, ex-
cept in Italy. particular at Cannis, where some
thousands of Carthugiu an fell; and when we
find the sword of the same make and metal in places
so remote, it establishes a strong connecting link between
the people of Carthage and of Ireland, and at once shows
their date."

“How curious that is!" exclaimed Gusty; “and how
odd I never heard it beforel Are there many such curious
thing‘s you know i"

2:i “‘“zi' “lid Edwmld' d h oddt "

won or ow o s can fin out one .
said the boy. In D . hing.

“My dear boy " said Edward, “ after getting a certain
amount of know edge, other knowled 9 comes very fast;
it gathers like a snowball——or perhaps t would be better
to llustrats the fact by u milldam. *You know, when the
water is low in the milldum, the miller cannot drive his
wheel- but the moment the water comes in to a certain
level it has force to work the mill. An so it is with
knowledge; when once yon 5ft it up to a certain level.
you can work your mill.‘ wi this cat advantage over
the milldam, that the stream of know edge, once reaching
the workin level never runs dry.“

“on, I w sh I knew as much as you do," exclaimed

us .

“ And so on can if on wish it,“ said Edward.

Gust sig ed mama; and admitted he had been.very
idle. Edward told him he had plenty of time before him
to re air the damn .

A gonversntion tfieen ensued, erfectly frank on the art
of the ho , and kind on Edw ‘3 side to all his defic en-
cies, wbic he found to be lamentable, as far as learning
went. He had some small smatterin of Latin; but Gus-
taVus vowed stesdfittontiou to his liter and his studies 1
for the future. ward. knowing what a miserable
scholar the tutor himself was, offered to put Gustavus
throu b his Latin and Greek himself. Gustavus accepted
the 0 or with gratitude, and rode over every day to
Mount Eskar for his lesson' and,ruuder the intell t
e laundons of Edward, the diflicuities which ad
hii srto discouraged him disappeared, and it was
surprising what pro At' the am
he devoured Irish Mary and became mug ne-
tured with that enthusiastic love of all t b onged
to his coun which he found in his teacher; and
Edward soon milled in the new: neophm. Monk and
intelligent spirit redeemed from ignorance and rendered
caps!) oof 1: her enjoyments thou those to be derived
in from id spam. Edward, however, did notcou~
nu instructionsthnk: mum

~......__r

.... “3....”  34 Frag. 2;;

 

 

tutu-aim day had
thyme.

45

to be learned by living with the educated, whose current
conversation alone is instructive; and Edward had Gus-
tavus with him as constantly as he could; and after some
time, when the frequency of Gusiy's visits to Mount
Esknr ceased to excite any wonder at home, he some-
iiues spent several days together with Ed ward, to whom
he became continually more and more attached. Edward
showed great judgment in making his training attractive
to his pupil: he did not attend increl to his head; he
thought of other things as well; joine him in the sports
and exercises he knew, and taught him those in which he
was uninstructed. Feiicin", for instance, was one of
these; Edward was a tolerable master of his foil and in
a few months Gustavus, under his tuition, coul parr
a thrust and make no bad attempt at a hit himsel .
liis improvement in ever way was so remarkable, that
it was noticed by all, an its cause did not long remain
secret; and when it was known, Edward 0‘ onnor’s
character stood higher than ever, and the whole country
said it was a lucky day for Gusty O’Grady that he found
such a friend.

As the limits of the story would not permit the inter-
course between Edward and Gustavus to be treated in
detail, this general sketch of it has been given: and in
s'ating its consequences so far, a peep into the future has
been granted by the author, with a benevolence seldom
belonging;r to his ill-natured and crafty tribe, who endeavor
to hoodwink their docile followers as much as possible,
and keep them in a state of ignorance as to coming
events. But now, having been so indulgent, we must beg
to lay hold of the skirts of our readers and pull them
back again down the ladder into the private still, where
Bridget pulled back Andy very much after the same
fashion, and the results of which we must treat of in our
next chapter.

 

CHAPTER XLI.

Wan-x Bridget dragged Andy back and insisted on his
going to bed

 

 

No—I will not be too good natured and tell my story in
that way; besides it would be a very difficult matter to
tell it; and why should an author, merely to oblige peo-
ple, get himself involved in a labyrith of difficulties, and
rack his unfortunate brain to pick and choose words
prg‘perly to tell his story, yet at the same time to lead his
re ere-through the mazes of this ve ticklish adven-
ture, without a single thorn scratching t eir delicate feel-
ings or as much as making the smallest rent in the white
muslin robe of propriety? So, not to 'run unnecessary
risks, the story must go on another way.

When Shun More and the rest of the “ big blackguards“
began to wake, the morning after the abduction, and gave
a Him or two under their heather covcrlid, and rubbed
their eyes as the sun pee ed through the “ curtains of the
east”——for these were t e only bed-curtains Shun More
and his companions ever had—they stretched themselves
and vawned, and felt very thirsty, for they had all been
blind drunk the night before, be it remembered; and Slian
More, to use-his own expressive and poetic imagery,
swore that his tongue was “as rough as a rat‘s back."
while his companions went no further than sayin theirs
were as “ dry as a llme-burner’s wig.“ We shoul not be
so particular in those minute details but for that desire
of truth which has uided us all through this voracious
history; undue in t is scene, in particular, we feel our
selves sure to be held seriously responsible for every
word, we are determined to be accurate to a nicety, and
letdown ever syllable with stenographlc strictness.

" Where‘s t e girl?” cried Shun not yet sober.

“ She‘s asleep with your sister,’ was the answer.

“Down—stairs?" inquired Shun.

“ Yes," said the other, who now knew that Big Jack
was more drunk than he at first thought him, b his using
the words stain" for Jack when he was drun was very
grand, and called. ladder “ down-stairs.“

“ Get me-a drink 0‘ walher" said Jack, “for I‘m
thundherln‘ thirsty, and can‘t de udher that girl with soft
words till 1 wet my mouth."

Ills attendant vagubond obeyed the order, and a lar e
pitcher full of water was handed to the master. w o
ieaved it upwards to his head and drunk as audibly and
nearlyns much as a horse. Then holdin his hands to
receive the remaining contents of the pitc ier, which his
followers mixed into his monstrous palms, he soused
his face,w ch he afterwards wiped in awisp of grass—-
the only towel of Jack‘s which was not then at the

 

was . ,

Having thus made his toilet Big Jack went down stairs,
and as soon as his at bull-head had disnp eared be-
neath the tra , one o the men above said, “ e‘li have a
mum soon, oys. ‘

-And sure enough they did before ion hear an extra-
ordinary row. Jack first roared for Bri vet and no an-
swer was returned; the callwss re eatetf with as little
eflect, and at last a most tremen ous roar was heard
above, but not from a female voxce. Jack was heard be-
low, sweurlng like a trooper. and in a minute or two,
back be rushed “ up stairs,” and began cursing his .
midons most awfully, and foaming at the mouth 

r e.
“'5 What‘s the matther?" cried the men.

“ Matther!” roared Jack; “0h. on ‘tarnnl villains!
You‘re a purty set to carry off a 311' for a mun—u party
Job you‘ve made of it!“ .

“ Arrnh, didn’t we bring her to you?"

“ IIer, ipdeed—brlng [mt—much good what you brought
in to mei

“ Tare uu‘ ounsi what‘s the matther at all? We dunno
what you medal" shouted the men, returning rage for

e.
“ Come down, and ou‘ll see what‘s the matther,“ said
tIxiick, descending the adder; and the men hastened after

“1.

He led the way to the further end of the cabin, where
a small glimmering of li ht was permitted to enter from
the top, and liftin a Entered piece of canvas, which
served as a screen the bed he exclaimed, with o curse,
"Look there, you black as !“

The men gave o shou of su rise, for—whet do you
think they saw f—An empty bed

 

v CEAPTEBXLII.

Itm be remembered that, on Father Phil‘s recom-
mends on, Andy was to be removed out of the country
‘oplace him beyond the reach of Larry Hogan‘s machina-
“OIII. and that the "0903911 ligamey to London afforded
o good op rtunlt of taking [in out of the we . Andy
ind been esired y Suuire Egan to re to erryvale;

e

' The New York Library.

be tampered with began to revive and. Dick Dawson was
therefore requested to call at the Widow Rooney’s cabin as
he was returning from the town, where some business
with Murphy, about the petition against Scatterbrain‘s
return, demanded his resence. _

Dick, as it huppene , had no need to call at the Widow‘s,
for on his way to the town who should he see approaching
but the renowned Andy himself. On coniin Y up to him,
Dick pulled up his horse, and Andy. pulled 0 ins hat.

“ God save your honor,“ said Andy.

“ Why didn’t you come to Merryvale, as you were
bid?" raid Dick.

“ I couldn‘t, sir, becase "

“ Hold your tongue you thief; you know you never
can do what you‘re bid—you are always wrong one way
or other."

“ You‘re hard on me, Misther Dick.”

“ Did you ever do anything rightf—I askyourself.“

“indeed. sir, this time itwas a rule bit 0’ business I
had to do.“

“ And well you did it, no doubt. Did on marry any
one lately?" said Dick, with a we gish grin. and a Wink.

‘é Faix, then, maybe I did," sai Andy, With a knowing
no .

“And I ho e Matty is well?" said Dick.

“_Ah, Mist er Dick, you’re always goin' on with your
okin‘ so you are. So, you heord 0‘ that job, did lyoui'
uix, a party lady she is—oh, it’s not her at all are

marri< d to, but another woman.“ ' _ g

” Another woman! “ exclaimed Dick, in surpnso.

“ Yis, sir, another woman—a kind crayihur.j’
“Another woman! “ reiterated Dick, laughing! “mar-

ried to two women in two days! Why you‘re worse than
a Turk! "

“Ah, Misther Dickl "

“ You Tarquin! "

“ Sure, sir, what harm‘s in it?"

“ You Holiogahulusll ”

“ sure, it‘s no fault o' mine, sir? "

“ Bigamy, by this and that, flat bigamy!
be hanged, as sure as your name’s And .“

“Sure, let me tell you how it was, sir, and you‘ll see I
am quit of all harm, good or bad. "I‘was a pack 0'
bluckEuards, you see, come to take ofi Oonah, air. ‘

“O , a case of abduction!"

“ Yin, sir; so the women dhressed me up as a girl, and
the blackguards, instead of the seduction of Oonah, only
seduced me."

“ Capital!“ cried Dick; “ well done, Andy! And who
seduced you?"

“ Shun More, faith—no leu."

“ Ho, ho! a dangerous customer to play tricks on,

 

You'll only

And ."

” gure enou h, faith, and that’s artly the rayson of
what happene ; but, by good luck, ig Jack was blind
dhrunk when I got there, and 1 shaniined screechin’ so
well that his sister took pity on me, and said she'd keep
me safe from harm in her own bed that ni ht."

Dick gave a “ view hallo " when he card this and.
shouted with laughter, deli htcdnt the thought of hen
More, instead of carrying o a girl for himself, introdu-
cing a gallant to his own sister.

“ on, now I see how on are married,“ said Dick:
“ that was the biter bit in eed."

“ Oh, the divil a bit I‘d ha‘ bit her only for the cross
luck With me, for I wanted to scheme off out o‘ the place
and escape; but she wouldn‘tlet me, and catch me and
brought me back.“ _

“ I should think she would, indeed,“ said Dick, laugh-
ing. “ What next?" . .

"Why I drank a ower o‘punch,sir,and was ofi my guard.
you see, and con! n‘t keep the saycret so well afther that,
and by dad she found it Out."

“ Just what I would expect of her,“ said Dick.

“ Well do on know sir, though the thrick was agen
her own brot or she aughcd at it a power, and said I
wasa great divil, but that she couldn't blame me. So
then I‘ strnv to coax her to let me make my escape, but
she told me to wait a bit till the men above were faster
asleep- but while I was waitin' for them togo to sleep
faix, 1 went to aslee myself, I was so tired; an
when Bridget, the crayt ur, ’woke me in the mormn , she
was cryin‘ like a 5 out afther a thunder-storm, an said
her cliaracther wou d be ruined when the sto got abroad
over the counthry, and sure she darn‘t face t e world if I
wouldn‘t make her an honest woman."

" The brazen baggage,“ said Dick, “ and what did you

so i”
x Why, what could any men say, sir, ufther that! Sure
her karacther would be gone —"
“ Gone.“ said Dick, ‘ faith it might have gone further
before it fared worse!" '
“ Arrahl what do you mane Misther Dick 2”
“ Pooh, pooh! Andy—you don't mean to say you mar-
ried that one?"
“ Faix, I did,“ said Andy:
“ Well, Andy," said Dic ,
on have done it this time!
ick put spurs to his horse.

CHAPTER XLIII.

ANDY “ knocked all of a heap," stood l the fiddle of
the road iookinw after Dick as he cante‘i'ed down the
slope. it was sefidom or Andy was an . —bnt he felt
a strong sense of in 'gnation choking m as Dick‘s
parting words still rum in his cars. “What does he
inane? ’ said Andy, ta! ing aloud: “what does he mane?”
be repeated, anxious to doubt and therefore question the
obvious construction which Dick‘s words .bore, “ Mm.
that Dick is fond of a joke, and maybe this is one of his
making; but if it is, ‘tis not a fun one, ‘pon my sow]: a
poor mun has his feelin’s as well as a rich man. How
would you like your own wife to be spoke of that way,
Misther ,Dick, us proud as you ride Yen! horse them.h
hum h?‘

Anldy, in great indi ation pursued his way towards his
mother’s cabin to as her i) essuig u on his man-law.
On his presenting himself there, both-t e old woman and
Oonah were in rent deli ht at Witnessing his safe re-
éxurn; Oonah pa icularly, or she, feeling that it “as for

er sake Andy placed himself in dun er, had been in a
state of great anxiety for the result of t e adventure, and,
on seeing him, absolutely threw herself into his arms,
and embraced him tenderty, Impressm my a hearty
kiss upon his lips, between winiea that she vowed she
would never forget his generosity and 001111: e. and end-
ing with saying there was nothing she wo not do for

,m ,

saw Andy was flesh and blood like otherpeo 1e. and
as the showers of kisses from Oonah‘s 11 bps ell fast
upon him he was not insensible to the em race of so very

ning, ” by the powers
ood morning to you!" an

manner alone had hitherto made him keep to him
self; but now, when he saw her eyes beam grati
tude, and her cheek flush, after her strong demon
titration. of regard, and heard her last words, so very
like a hint to a shy man, it must be owned a sudden pang
shot through poor Andy‘s heart, and he sickened at the
thought of both married, which placed the tempting
prize before him opelcssly beyond his reach.

He looked so blank, and seemed so unable to return
Oonah’s fond greeting, that she felt the pique whichevery
pretty woman experiences who fancies her favors disre
gurded, and thought Andy the stupidest iout she eve:
came across. Turning up her hair, which had fallen dove
in the excess of her frieiidslii , she walked out of the ect-
talie, and, biting her disdain ul lip, fairly cried for spite.

n the meantime, Andy popped down on his knees be
fore the widow, and said, “Give me your blessing.
mother!"

“ For what, you omadhawn i“ said his mother, fiercely;
forher woman‘s nature took part with Oonah‘s feelings,
winch she quite corn rchended, and she was vexed with
what she thought An y’s disgusting insensibility. “ F01
what should I give you my blessing?“

“ Bekasc I‘m marri‘d, ma‘am."

"_Whatl” exclaimed the mother.
gain you are? You‘re okin‘ sure."

“Faix, it‘s no joke,‘ said Andy, sadly, “I‘m marri‘d
sure enough; so give us your blessin’. anyhow,“ cried he,
still kneeling.

“ And ‘who did you dar‘ for to marry, sir, if I make so
bowld to ax, without mfr/ lave or license ?“

“ There was no time or axin‘, inother—‘twas done in a
hurry‘,‘ and I can‘t help it, so give us your blessing at
once.

“ Tell me who is she, before I give you my blessin" l"

“Slum More's sister. ma‘am.“

“ What i“ exclaimed the widow, staggering back some

“It'l not marri‘d

Nina,"I isit?“

“ Yis, ma‘am."

“ Oh, wirrasthrui—plilielewl—millin murther!" shouted
the mother, tearing hcr cup of! her head,-—“ 0!) blessed
Vargin, holy St. Dominick, Pether an‘ Paul the ‘possel,
what‘llI def—Oh, patther an‘ ave—you dirty boat/won—
blcssed angels and holy marthyrsl—kueelin‘ there in the
middle 0‘ the flare as if nothing happened—look
down on me this day, a poor vartuous dtvsoluto
woman l—Oh, you dis ace to me and all belonging to
you,—and is it the impidence to ask my blessin‘ you have,
when it's a whippin'at the cert‘s tall you ought to get.
you shameless seapegrace?"

She then went wringin her hands, and throwing them
upwards in appeals to eaven, while Andy still kept
kneeling in the middle of the cabin, lost in wonder.

The widow ran to the door and called Oonah in.

“ Who do you think that blackguard is marri‘d to?" said
the widow.

“ Married!“ exclaimed Oonuhfrowing ai

“Ay, inarri'd, and who to, 0 you t
Bridget rltua."

Oonah screamed and clasped her hands.

Andy got u at last, and asked what they were makin
such a rout u out; he wasn‘t the first man who marrie
without asking his mother’s leave; an! wanted to know
what they had to “ say agen it."

"‘Oh, on barefaced scandal 0‘ the world!" cried the
Widow, ‘to ax sitch a question—to marry a thrampin‘
sthreel like that-a great red-headed eck "

“ She can’t help her hair," said An y. '

“I wish Icoul cut it off, and her bad along with it,
the sthrapi 0h, blessed Vargin! to have my daughter-in-

law

“ What?“ said Andy, citing rather alarm

“ That all the country nows is——“

“ What?" cried Andy.

“ Not a fair nor_ a. market-town doesn‘t know her as well
as—Oh, wirra! Wirra!"

“ Wh , you don't mane to soy anything ages her char-
akter, 0 you i" said Andy.

" Chara tor, indeed!" said his mother with u sneer.

“ By this an‘ that,“ said Andy, “ if she was the child
unborn, she couldn't_make a greater hullaballoo about her
charakter than she did the mornin‘ either.“

“ Afther what?" said hismother.

“ AftherI was tuk awn up to the hill be ant, an’ found
her there, and— but I ‘l eve I didn‘t ell you how it

I

happfned."
“ i 9,“ said Oonah, coming forward, deadly pale, and
listening anxiously, with a look of deep pity in her soft

eyes.

Andy then related his adventure as the render already
knoWs it; and when it was ended Oonah burst into tears,
and in passionate exclamations blamed herself for all that
had happened saying it was in the endeavor to lave her
that And he lost himself.

“ Oh, onah! Oonah!“ said And , with more meaning
in his voice than the girl had ever card before, “ it isn’t
the loss of myself I mind, but I‘ve lost you too. Oh.
if you had ever 'ven me a tendhcr word or look before
this day, 'two d never have happened, and that
desalver in the hills, never oculd have delndhered
me. And tell me, Janna machru, is my suspicions
rightinwhatdvhoor—teil me the worst at oncet—ds she
non com ‘

~‘ Oh,foriever heerd her called by that name before,"
sobbed Oonah, “ but she has a great many others Just as

ad H

kl—Why to

 

 

“bwi ow! owl" exclaimed Andy. “Now I know‘whnt
Misther Dick laughed at; well, death before dishon or» -I‘i)
go ’list for o sojer, and never hve with heri“

 

CHAPTER XLIV.

1-:- has been necessary in an earlier chapter to notice the
"mu _ reuli~ madness will sometimes play. It was then
me 0 Ject to mow how stron affections o the mind will
recall an erring Judgment to to true balance- but the no
tion of the counwrpoise grow weaker by tints the dis
ease returns, and reason again k cks the hm. finch was
the old dowager’s case: the death of her son recalled her
to herself; but a few days produced relapse, and she
was as foolish as ever. Nevertheless. I: Poloin re
marks of Hamlet,

“There is method in his madness!"

so in the dowager’g.caae there was method—not of a sane
Intention, as the old courtier implies of the Dani h prince,
but of insane birth—beget of I chivalrous fee on on
enfeebicd mind.

To make this clearly understood it is necessary to

call
attention to one other ecuiiarity of madness—that while

it makes those under i s influence liable to say and In

 

 

 

speed and An y had not made
slurmsof the Squire that Andy might

m.

rett a. ‘l-e iri over, he had always had a
Renew which. Oonuh‘s distance of

«answering-t." '

paces—“Sham More’s sisther, did you say—Bridget

Handy Andy.

 

 

 

all sorts of nonsense on some subjects, it never impairs
their powers of observation on those which chance to
come within the reach of the undiseascd portion o_f the
mind; and moreover they are quite as capable of arriving
at just conclusions upon what they so see and licarhas the
most reasonable person. and, perhaps, in proportion as
the reasonin power is limited within a smaller compass,
so the capahlity of observation becomes stronger by
being concentrated.

Such was the case with the old dowoger who, while
[“lll‘lOn was “ doing devotion“ to Augusta, and appeared
the pin of faithful swains, saw very clearly that Fur-
long did not like it. a bit, and would gladly be off his bar-
gain. Yea, while the people in their sober senses on the
same plane with the parties Were taken in, the old lull“,-
lic, even from the to pling height of her own mad chim-
ney—pot. eculd look own and see that I4 urloug would not
marry Augusta, if he could hcl it.

Itwas even so. Furlong ha acted under the influence
of terror when poor Augusta, shoved into his bedroom
through the devilmento that rascally imp(i Itatty, and
found there, through the evil destiny of An y, was flung
into his arms bv her enraged father, and accepted as his
wife. The immediate hurry of the election had delayed
the marriage—~the duel and its conse uenccs further in-
terrupted “the happy event "—an O'Grady‘s death
caused a further postponement. It was delicacely hinted
to Furlong, that when matters had gone so far as to the
nodding—dresses being ready, that the sooner the con-
tracting parties under such circumstances were married,
the better. But Furlong with that aifcctation of propri-
ety which belongs to his time-serving tribe, pleaded tho
'~ regard to appearance“—“ so soon after the ever-to—bede-
ploredeveiit,“—\and other such specious excuses, which
were but covers to his own rasculity, and used but to
postpone the “wedding day.“ The truth was, the mo-
ment Furlong had no lon er the terrors of O‘Grady 3 gls'
tol before his eyes. he ha resolved never to take so ad
a match as that with Augusta appeared to lie—indeed was,
as for as regarded money); though Furlon should only
have bccn too glad to e permitted torn it his plebian
blood with the daughter of a man of high family,
whose crippled circumstances and consequent truckliu
conduct had reduced him to the wretched necessity 0
making such (1 cm- as Furlong the inmate of his house.
But so it was.

The family began at last to suspect the real state of‘

the case, an all were surprised except the old dowageré
she had expected what was coming, and had prepare
herself for it. All her pistol ractice wa< With a View to
(all Furlong to the “last ar itrament" for this slight
in her house. Gusty was too young, she considered, ' or
the duty: therefore she, in her fantastic map of looking
at the matter, looked upon hersetf as the sad of the
family and, as such, determined to resent the affront put
a oni .

pBut of her real design the famil at Neck-or-Nothing
lIall had not the remotcst notion. f course, an old lady
going about with a pistol, powder-flask, and bullets, and
practising on the trunks of the trees in the park, could
not pass without observation, and surmiscs there were
on the subject- then her occasional exclamation of
“ Tremble, villain!" would escape her; and sometimes
in the family circle, after sitting for awhile inastate
of abstraction, she would lift her attenuated hand armed
with a knitting-needle or a ball of worsted, and assuming
the action of poising a istol, execute a smart dick wit
her tongue. and say, “ I it him that time."

These exclamations, indicative of vengeance, were sup-
posed at length by the family to apply to Edward O‘Con-
nor, but excited pity rather t an alarm. When howev r
one mornin , the down or was nowhere to be found, a
Ratty and t e pistols ha also dlsa peered, an inquiry was
instituted as to the old lad ‘swwroabouts, and Mount
Eskar was one of the fin-t aces where she was sought,
but Without success; and other inquiries were equally
unavailing.

The old lady had contrived, with that cunnin peculiar
to insane eople, to get away from the house a an early
hour in tge morning, unknown to all except Ratty, to
whom she confided her intention, and managed to get her
out of the domain unobserved, and thence toget her they
proceeded to Dublin in apostchalse.

It was the day after “is secret expedition was un-
dertaken that Mr. Furlong was sitting in his private
apartment at the Castle. doing “the state some ser-
vice" b reading the morningmpa ers which heavy
onicial duty he relieved occas ua ly ’by turning to
some scented notes which is near a morocco wrltln -
case, whence the had been rswn by the lisplng don y
to flatter his van ty. He had been carr in on a corres-

ondence with an anonymous fair one, n w on heart, if
or words might be believed, Furlong had made desperate

v c.
haltOhap ened, however, that these notes were all acti-
tious, be ng the work of Tom Loftus, who enjoyed play-
iii one pup y as much as pinyin on the organ; and he
ha the satis action of seeing 1 ur orig oinié hrongh his

aces in certain squares he had apps ate , wearln I a
ower of Tom‘s choice and goin t rough other an me
which Tom had demanded an or the signature of
“ Phillis," written in a delicate band on pink satin note-
per with a lace border' one of the last notes su gested
the possibility of a visit from the ladyé and a ter as-
surances of “secrecy and honor " had on returned b
Furlong, he was anxiously expecting ' what. woul
become of it;" and filled with pleasmg reflections of
who “a devil of a fellow " he was union the ladies{ he
occasionally paced the room before a ban some dress nig-
glass (with which his apartment was always furnished ,
and run his fingers throu h his curls with a complacent
smile. While thus occupie and in such a frame of mind
the hall messenger entered the apartment, and said a lady
wished to see him.
“A lady!" exclaimed Furlong; in delighted surprise.
“ She won‘t give her name, s but——”

“ Show her up! show her npl“’exclalmed the Lothsrio,

l .

“ill {axis , he awaited the appearance of his donna;
ind quite a one she seemed, as a commanding 11 re.
dressed indblackhgnd enveloped in a rich v o the
lid into room.
“51?on Sewy Spanish!" exclaimed Furlong uhe m.
vanced to meet his incogliliita, who, as soon as shoentered,
bend the “013331;” aheggggtke ' " said Fin-ion

‘ lute wac one
Q‘ “ng' lady, allow me to touch you‘ or hand, “5

my“ to a seat."
The mysterious stranger made no answer; but lifting

her lon veil, turned round on the lisping dandy, who
at: ere back when the dowsgel' 0 Grady up be-
forc m, drawn a to her full height, and any but an

eesbls exprel onin her eye. She stalked up awards
a something in the styloofospocm mommanee,

which she was not very unlike' and as she advanced, he
retreated, until he got the table between him and this
most unwelcome apparition.

“ I 21m come.“ said the dowager, with an ominous tone
of voice.

“ Vewy ha py of the hono‘, I am sure, Mistwess
O‘Gwady," fa tered Furlong.

“ The avenger has come.“ Furlon opened his eyes.
“I have come to wth the stainl" sai she, tapping her
fingers in a theatrical manner on the table, and, as it hap-
pcned, she oiiited to a large blotch of ink on the table-
cover. Fur ong opened his eyes wider than ever, and
thought this the queerest bit. of madness he ever heard 0':
however, thinkiu ' it best to humor her he ausivered,
“ Yes, it was a litt e awkwa‘ness of mine—l upset the ink-
staud the othe‘ day.“ ,'

“Do you mock me, sir?“ said she, with increasing bit-
terncss.

“ Ls, nol Mistivcss O'Gwady."

“I have come, I say, to wash out in our blood the
stain on have dared to put on the name 0 O‘Grady.“

Far 00% gasped with mingled amazement and fear.

“Trem e, villlaul“ she said: and she pointed toward
him her long attenuated finger with portcntous solemiiity.

“Iwcally am quite at a loss, Mistwess O‘Gwady, to
compweliend—‘

Before he could finish his sentence, the dowagcr had
drawn from the depths of her side~p0ckets a brace of is-
tols, and presenting them to Furlon", said, “ Be at a oss
no longer, except the loss of -life which may ensue; take
your choice of weapons, sir.“

“Gwacious Heavenl" exclaimed Furlong, trembling
from head to foot.

“ You won't choose, then?“ said the dowugcr. “ Well,
there‘s one for you;” and she laid a pisto before him
with as courteous a manner as if she were making him a
birthday present.

Furlong stared down upon it with a look of horror.

“ Now we must toss for choice of ground," said the dew-
ager. “I have no money about me, for I paid my last
half-crown to the ostrboy, but this will do as well for a
toss as anything e se;" and she laid her hands on'the
dressing-glass as she spoke. “Now the call shall be

sufe,‘ or ‘ smash;' whoever calls ‘ safe,‘ if the glass comes
down unbroken, has the choice, and vice verse. I call
first—‘mash,“‘ said the dowager, as she flung u the
dressing- lass, which fell in shivers on the floor. “ I ave
won," s d she; “ oblige me, sir, by standin in that
far corner. Ihave the light in my back—an you will
have something else in years before long; take your
ground, sir."

Furlon , finding himself thus cooped up with a mad
woman, a an anon of terror suddenly bethou ht himself
of instances he ha heard of escape, under simi ar circum-
stances, by coinciding to a certain extent with the views
of the insane people, and suggested to the dowuger that
he hoped she would not nsist on a duel without their
having a “friend " resent.

“ I cg your par on, sir,“ said the old lady; “ I quite
forgot that form, in the excitement of the moment,
thoithhave not overlooked the necessity altogether,
and have come provided with one."

m“ glfiiw me to wing for him," said Furlong, rushing to

e c .

"Ste i" exclaimed ihe dowager, levelling her pistol at
the be! -pull; “ touch it, and you are adead manl‘

Furlong stood riveted to the spot where his rush had
been arrested. ,/

“ No interru tlon, sir. till this little sflair is settled. Here
is my friend, 5 e added, putting her hand into her pocket
and pulling out the wooden cuckoo of her clock. “ My
little bird, sir, will see fair between us'“ and she perched
the painted wooden thing with a bit of rennet gro-
tesquely sticking up out 0 its nether end, on the morocco
letter-case. -

“ Oh, Lord!" said Furlong.

“He s a gentleman of the nicest hpnor, sir!" said the
dew rer, pacing back to the window.

Fur ong took advantage of the o portunity of her back
being 1turned, and rushe at the be] , which he pulled with

rent ury.
g The dowager wheeled round with haste. “ So you have
rung," said she, “but it shall not avail you-the door is
Leaked; take your weapon, sir,—quichl—whati—a cow-

“ Weally,Mlstwess O'Gwady, I cannot 1yhiuk of deadly
arbitramcnt With a lad ."

“ Less would you i e it with a mu, patmomu said
she, with an exaggerated expression of contempt in
her manner. "However," she added “ if you are a
coward, you shall have a cowar ‘s punishment,“
She. wen to a corner where stood a cat vari-
ety of handsome canes. and laying hold 0 one, be-
gan soundly to thrash Furlon . who feared to make
any resistance or attempt to dish her of the cans, for
the istol was yet in her other hand. .

T a bell was answered by the servan . who on finding
the door locked, and hearin the row inside, began to
knock and inquire loudl w at was the matter. The
question was more lou y answered by Furion , who
roared out, “Bweak the doorl bwcak the doorl’ inter-
larding his directions with cries of “ murderl"

The door at length was fo d. Furlong rescued, and
the old lady separated from him. She becamedpcrfectly
calm the moment other persons appeared, an was re-
placin the istols in her pocket, when Furlon re nested
the " wead ul weapons " might be seized. c o d lad
gave up the pistols very quietly, but. laid hold of her bird
and at it back into her ocket.

“ his is a dweadfnl v elation!“ said Furlong, “and my
life is not safe unless she is bound ove‘ to keep the peace. ‘

“ Pooh! poohi" said one of the gentlemen :3)“; the ad.
jacent ofilce, who came to the scene on hea ug the up-
roar, “binding over an old lady to keep the peace—non.

nsel"

w“ I insist ii on it," said 532.335. with that ltllbbomneas
00 s are so rem .
“£33329!” weui" said the sensible gentleman, who left
mimfly, ummt to Furlong‘s determination, to.
ceases to the head police-ofllce close by the 8“.
tie. and a huge mob gather as they went
down Cork-hill. and “mowed mm to Exchaii e-court,
where they crowded be“)?.3 them in front of t e‘ oflice,
so that it was with difficulty, the DflnClPals could make
their way through the dense mass.

‘Atlon , hocher, the entered the om“. “a when
Major 8 heard any gent. em attached to the Govern-
ment wanted his assistance. of course he put an other
one “ids, and had the accuser called up before 

Furlong made his charge of assault and battery. with
intent to murder, he. the

 

« d 1d rebel, I'su se " saidH . “
mflgmmb‘erefl. Infant“ 55% the molar-"w": no

“ Indeed I do, sir—«and I remember 1 too: M or MI
I have the honour to address, if I don'mlstake.“d

“ Yes, ma‘am. What then?"

“I remember well in '98 when you were searching for
rebels, you thou ht a man Was concealed in a dairy-yard
in the neiahbor 00d of my mother's house Mayor, in
Stephen’s Green; and you thought he was h din a hay-
rick, and ordered your ser cent to ask for the loan of I
Bll‘l‘lfiny moltéier's kite en fig probe the ha stack.“

cu,m am our mot er was r ."

“ Most loyal, sir.“ ’ y loyal, “pp "8

::G‘1V8 the lady a chair," said the major.

’lhiink you, I don‘t want it—but, Major, when you
asked for the spit, my mother thought you were chug to
practice one of Hour delightfully in yonions bits 0 piiuish~
arid aske ihe sergeant who i was yauwcre going [a
‘ 8'.

The major grew livid on the bench where he sat, at this
awkward reminiscence of one of his friends, and a dead
silence reigned through the crowded oiiice. Be recovered
himself. howeverI an addressed Mrs. O'Grady iii a mum—
bling manner, tel lug her she must give security to keep
the peace, herself—and find friends as sureties. ' 0n ask<
hilly: had she any friends to appear for her, she declared
a e a .

“A gentleman of the nicest honer, sir," said the dow-
ager, pulling her cuckoo from her pocket, and holding it
up in view of the whole otlice. .

A shout of Jan liter of course followed. The affair be-
came at once an erstood in its irue li ht' a mad old lady,
a paltry coward—&c., &c. Those wfio know the excitw
bi ity and fun of an Irish mob will not wonder that, when
the story got circulated from the ofllce to the crowd
without, which it did with li htning ra idity, the
old lady, on being placed n a line ey-coach
which was sent for, was hailed with a chorus of “Cuck-
ool" by the multitude, one half of which ran after the
coach as long as they could keep pace with it, shoutin
forth the spring-time call, and the other half follows
Furlong to the Castle, with hisses and other more articu-
late demonstrations of their contempt.

 

CHAPTER LXV.

’l‘ns fat and fair widow Flanagan had, at length, given
up shilly-shallylug and yielding to the fervent entreatios
of Tom Durfy, ha consented to name the hap y day.
She would have some little ways of her own agent it,
however, and instead of being married in the country,
insisted on the nuptial knot being‘ tied in Dublin.
Thither the widow re aired with er swaln to com
plate the stipulated true of residence within some
metropolitan ariin before the wedding could take
place. ‘ In t. e meanwhile they enjo (-d all the
gaicty the capital resented, the time g idcd swiftly
by, and Tom was wit in a day of being made a hop y_
man, when, as he was hastenin to the lodgings of tie
fair Widow, who was waiting wit her hornet and shawl
on to be escorted to the botanical gardens at Glasnovla. he
was accosted by an odd-looking person of somewhat
sinister aspect.

"I believe I have the honor of addressin M liter Durfy
sir?” Tom answeredinthe affirmative. ‘ Durfy '
Esquire. 1 thank, sir!” -

u Y" H

“ This is for you, sir," he said, handing Tom a piece a
dirt printed pa ier, and at the same time laying his hand
on oin‘s shoul er and executing a smirking sort of "rim
which he meant to be the pattern of politeness, added,
" You‘ll excuse me, sir, but I arrest you under a warrant
from the High Sherifl of the city of Dublin; always sorry,
sir, for a gintleman in defllcultlcs but it’s my duty.“

“ You‘re a bailiff, then?“ said om.

“ Sir,“ said the bum,

“ ‘ Honor and shame from no condition rise; '
Act well your part—there all the honor lies.‘ "

“I meant no oflense," said Tom. “ I only moant—-“

“I understand sir—I understand. These little dctll-
culties startles intlemen first—you‘ve not been used to
arrest, I see, sir “

:‘Neverin in life did such a thing ha pen before,“
said Tom. “I ive generally, thank God, wxiierc a bailifl
duren’t show his face."

“ Ah sir, said the bailiff with a grin, “ them rustic habits
betrays the children 0' nature often when they come to
town; but we are sofleticattd here in the metro oils, that
we lay our hands on strangers airy. But 0 ’d helm.r
not stand in the streets, sir, or people will an crstaud it‘s
an arrest, sir; and I suppose you wouldn‘t like Mic ex-
posure. I can slniperise in a gintleman's feelings, sir.
f you walk aisy on, sir, and don‘t attempt to escape or
rescue, I‘ll keep a entlemanlke distance."

Torn walked on n great perplexlt for a few steps, not
knowin what to do. The hour 0 his rendezvous had
struck; 9’ know how impatient of neglect the widow
alwa swas; he at one moment then ht of asking the
balli to allow him to proceed to her odgin at once,
there boldl to avow what had taken lace an ask her to
dischar e edebt; but this his pri e would not “low
him 0. As he came to the corner of a street, he got
a tap on the elbow from the bailiff, who with a
jerkin motion of his thumb and a wink, said in a conn-
dentia tone to Tom, 0‘ Down this street, sir-that‘s the

way to the ea'n (prison ."

“rd Prison “ exclaimed om, halting involuntarily It the
we .

“ Shove o sir—shove on!” hastily repeated the

sheriff's omczi', urging his orders by a nudge or two on
Tom‘s elbow. ,

“ Don't shove me, sir!“ said Tom, rather angrily, “a
by 6—"
9‘Ais , sir-sis i'! said the bailiff; “though I feel for
the deflieulties o s ntlcmau, the caption must be made.
sir. I! you don't. ll e the pris’n, I have I nice little room

0" my own, sir, where you can wait, for a small considers ,

ti ntil ou et ball.“
953:1} go finial??? laid Tom. “ Go throuxhuprinu .
as you .
si

ltre .
“ give me half-a-fiuinel. for my trouble, sir, and I‘ll Ill-

bulate you through sues everyfid o‘ the way."

“ Very well," is d Tom.

They now struck into a shabby
wended throu h stable lanes, filt g alleys, up y
broken steps, oulgh one close, an down stops ano-
ther—thrcaded dai' passages whose debouchures were
blocked up with posts to prevent vehicular conve once,
the accumulated dirt of cars sensible to the from
lif‘mp’i‘”°"°l‘ii€‘i' “‘ l"°'li“..m"“““{ '"° mm":

ence. om acres: a ev
proceeded; but an to“ m bettg’than bo-

ss 0

street, and thence.

 

nguenlnthcpn has any; for, until
these labyrinth. of nastiness om thought!»
or every paper-by. as told uiftbe

 

 

 

 

,3
ii
,i

 

, chaps that pick up their ha’penoe that way.

48

The New York Library-

 

 

 

words were spoken “There goes a fellow under the
care of the bailiff." In these by-ways, he had not auy‘ob-
jcction‘to speak to his companion, and for the first time
asked him what he was arrested for.

" At the suit of Mr. M’Kuil, sir."

” Ohl~ the tailor? " said Tom.

" Yes, sir," said the bailiif. “ And ifyou would not con-
sider it trifiin with the feelings of a gintlemun in defil-
cultics, Iwo dmake the playful observation, sir. that
it’s uitc in character to be arrested at‘thc suit of a tailor.
Hcl e! hel“

“ You‘re a wag I see." said Tom.

“Oh no. sir, only upoetic turn: a small affection I have
certainly forJudy Mot, but my rule passion is the muses.
We are not far now. air, from my little bower of re osc—
whlcli is the name I give my humble abode—emu 1, but
snug, sir. You‘ll see another gintleinan there, sir, before
you. IIeis waitin' for bail these three or four days, sir
—cun‘t pay as he ought for the ‘commodatiou, but he's a
friend 0‘ mine, I uiay almost any, sir—a litlicrury gintle-
nian—tliem lithcrary gentlemen is always in deilicultles
mostly. I suppose you‘re a litherary giutlemau, sir»—
thoii i you‘re rather iiiteely dliressed for one i"

“ 0," said Tom, “% am not."

“ I thounht you wor, air, by being acquainted with this
other gint eman."

“An acipiaintance of mine i" said Tom, with sur-

pi.se.
‘ Yes. sir. In short it was through him I found out
where on war, sir. I have had the wret agen you for

some time, but couldn‘t make you off. till my friend says
i must carry a note from him to you.“

“ Where is the note i“ inquire Tom. .

“ Not ready et, sir. It‘s po‘thry he‘s writln—-somcthing
‘ pithy ’ he said, and ‘lame ’ too. I dunna how a thin
could be pithy and lame together, but them potcs has her
words at command.” ~

“Then you came away without the note?“

“ Yis, sir. As soon as I iouiid out where you wor
stopping i ran off directly on Mr. M’Kail‘s little business.
You‘ll excuse the liberty, sir; but we must all mind our
professions; though, indeed, sir, if you b'lieve me, _I‘d
rather nab a rhyme than a gintlemau any day; and if I
ifzould get on the press I’d quit the shoulder-tapping pro

ensmn."

Torn cast an eye of wonder on the bailiff which the latter
comprehended at once; for with habitua. niinblcnesa he
could nub a man‘s thoughts as fast as his erson.

“ I know what you‘re thinkin‘, sir—coul one of my pro-
fession pursue the muses? Don‘t think, sir, I mane Icould
write the ‘ luders‘ or the pollitik‘l articles. but the criminal
cases, sir—the robberies and offinces—with the wutclihoulc
cases-together with a little (po‘thry now and then. I
think I could be useful. sir, an do better than some of the
But here’s
' my place, sir—my little bower of re use."

He knocked at the door of a sma l tumble-down house
in a filthy lane, the one window it presented in front being
barred with iron. Some bolts were drawn inside, an
ihnugh the man who opened the door was forbidding in
his aspect. he did not refuse to let Tom in. The portal
was hastily closed and bolted after they had entered. The
smell of the house was pestilential— the c_ntr dead dark.

“ Give me your hand, sir,” said the baili , leading Tom
forward. ’l‘hey ascended some creaking stairs, and the
bailiff. fumbling for some time with a key-at a door, un-
locked it and shoved it open, and then led in his captive.
Tom saw u sliabb genteel sort of person, whose back
was towards him, irecting a letter. '

“ Ah Goggiiisl“ said the writer, “ you’re come back in
the nic of time. I have finished now, and you may take
the letter to Mister Durfyi;

“ You may give it to h yourself sir," replied Goggins,
“ for here he is." -

“ Indeed!“ said the writer, taming round.

Réaxvhfit!" exclaimed ’Ilom Durfy, in surprise; “James

‘ 5'

“Even so," Illd James, with a sentimental air:

“ "I‘he paths of glory lead but to the grave.‘
Literature is a bad trade, my dear Toml—‘tis an ungrate-
ful world—men of the highest aspirations ma lie in goal
for all the world cares; not that you come wit in the pale
of the worthless ones; this is wood natured of you to come
and see a friend in trouble. I'ou deserve, to dear Tom,
that you should have been uppermost in myt oughts; for
here 3 a note I have Just written to you enclosing a cop
of verses to you on your marriage~ 11 short, it is an epi-
thalamium.‘

"That's what I told you, sir “ said Gorrgins to Tom.

“May the dlvil burn you an your epitlialamluin!" said
I'om Durf , stumping round the little room.

I J unies eddy stared in wonder, and Goggins roared,
auuiiiug.

“ A pretty cputpllmentTyou've paid me, Mister Reddy
this fine morning, said 0m; “ y0u tell a bailiff where
live, that you may send your infernal verses to me, and you
get me arrested. ' V

“ Oh, murder!“ exclaimed James. “ I‘m very sorry, my
dear Tom; but. at the. same time, ‘tis a capital incident!
How it would work up in a farce!‘ _ , .

“ How funny it is!‘ said Tom in arctic, eyeing James as
if he could have eaten him. “Bad luc to all poetry and

etastcrs! By the ‘tarnal war, I wish every oet, from

omcr down, was put into a mortar and poundc to death!"

James poured forth expressions of sorrow for the ma.
chance; and extremely ludicrous it was to see one man
making a logies for trying to pay his f mend a compliment-
his frieu swearing at him for his civility, and the bailiff
grinning at them both.

In this triangular dilemma we will leave them for the
present.

CHAPTER XLVL

' Envnnn O‘CONNOR, on hearing from Gustavus of the
old downer’s disappearance from Neck-or—Nothing
llall, joined in the eager inquiries which were made
about her, and his being directed with more method and
in cut than those of others, their result was more
satisfactory. He soon “took up the trail " to use an
indlan phrase, and he and Gusty were not many hours in
porting after the old lady. They arrived in town early
in the morning, and last no time in casting about for in.
formation.

One of the first places Edward inquired at was the inn
where the poutchsise generall drove to from the house,
where the old ilowager had 0 tanned her carriave in the
mummy but there no trace was tobe had. ficxt, the
princi hotels were referred to, but as yet without
success; when, as they turned into one of the leading
streets in continuance of their their attention

of it. Great excitement prevailed on the verge of the
crowd, where cxclumutions escaped from those who
could get apee at [he light.

“The litt e c up has great heart!" cried one.

“But the sweep is the biggest," said another.

“Well done. 1 wish!“ cried a blackguard, who enjoy-
ed the triumph of his fellow.

“Bravoi little fellow," rejoined a genteel person, who
rcjoiccd in some successful hit of the other combatants
There is an inherent love in men to see a ti ht, which
Edward O‘Connor shared with inferior men; am if he had
not peepcd into the ring, most assuredly Gust would.
What was their astonishment, when they got a glimpse of
the pugiliets, to perceive Ratt was one 0 them—his an-
tagonist being a sweep, taller ya head, and no bad hand
at the “ noble science."

Edward's first impulse was to separate them. but Gusty
requested he would not, so ing that he saw by Betty‘s eye
he was able to “ lick the to low.“ Rutty certainly show-
ed great finht; what the sweep had in superior size was
equalized by the superior “ gainc " of the ventleman-boy
to whom the indomitable courane of 8., hi" -blooded race
had descended, and who won! soonerjiave died than
yield. Besides, Ratty was not deficient in the use of his

“bunch of fives,“ hit hard for his size, and was ve
agile: the sweep sometimes made a rush, grappled, an
gota fall; but 0 never went in without getting some-
thing from Ratty to “remember him," and was not
always uppermost. At last, both were so‘far punished
and the combat not beino likely to be speedily ended (for
the sweep \\ as no craven , that the bystanders interfered,
declaring that “ they ought to be separated,“ and they
were.

While the crowd was dispersing, Edward called a
coach; and before Ratt could comprehend how the aifalr
was managed, he was s ioved into it and driven from the
scene of action. Ratty had a confused sense of healing
loud shouts—of being lifted somewhere—of dirctions given
-—-the rattle of iron steps clinking sharply—two or three
fierce bangs of a door that wouldn‘t shut, and then an aw-
ful shaking, which roused him up from the corner of the
vehicle into which he had fallen in the first moment of
exhaustion. Batty “shook his feathers," dragged his
hair from out of his eyes, which were getting very black
indeed, and applied his handkerchief to his nose, which
was much in mm of that delicate attention; and when
the sense of perfect vision was restored to him, which was
not for some time (all the colors of the rainbow dancing
before Ratty‘s eyes for many seconds after the fight),
what was his surprise to see Edward O‘Connor and Gusty
sitting on the opposite seat!

It was some time before Ratty could comprehend the
present situation; but as soon as he was made sensible of
it, and could answer, the first questions asked of him were
about his grandmother. llatty fortunately rcniemberd the
name of t e hotel where she put up, though he had left
it as soon as the old lady proceeded to the Castle—had
lost his way—and got engaged in a quarrel with a sweep
in the meantime. ,

The coach was ordered to drive to the hotelnamed; and
how the fight occurred was the next uestion.

“The swec was passing by, and called him “snow-
ball.‘ " said 1 ntty; “ and the blackguard returned an im-
pudent answer, and I hit him.“

“You had no right to call him ‘suow-ball,‘ “ laid
Edward.

“ i always called the sweeps ‘ snow-ball' down at the
Hall,” said Ratty, “ and they never answered."

“ When you are on your own territory you may say
what you please to your dependents, Rutty, and they dare
not ans“ er; or to use a vulgar saying, ‘A cock may crow
on his own dunwhill.‘ "

“ I‘m no dunfhill cock!“ said Batty, fiercely.

“Indeed, ou‘re not,“ said Edward, laying his hand
kindly on t e boy’s shoulder: “you have plenty of
COUI‘R e.

“I‘ have licked him," said Rat , “if they'd have let
me have two or three rounds more.‘

“My dear boy, other things are needful in this world
besides courage. Prudence tern er, and forbearance
are required; and this may be a esson to you to re-
member, that, when on get abroad in the world, you
are very little cared u out, however' great your conse-
quence maybe at home; and I am sure on cannot be
proud about your having gotintoa uarre wifha sweep."
Ratty made no answer—his bloo be an to cool—lie
become ever moment more sensible but he had re-
ceived heavy lows. His eyes became more swollen, he
suufiled more in his speech, and his blackened condi-
tion altogether, from utter, soot, and thrashing, con-
vinced him a fight wit a sweep,was not an enviable
achievement.

The coach drew up at the hotel. Edward loft Gusty
to see about; the dowsger, and made an appointment for
Gusty to meet him at their own lodfiin s in an *hour;
while he in the interim should call on lc Dawson, who
was in town on his way to London.

Edward shook hands with Ratty and bade him kindly
e. " You‘re a stout fellow, Batty, said he, "but

d-b
g°° WW dogs get dirty

reinteinner this old saying, ‘qua
can a. .
Edward now proceeded to Dick’s lodgin ,aud found
him cage (1 in reading a note from Toni urfy, dated
from the ' Bowleé of1 Repose,"aud requeslmg Dick‘s aid
in his resent d‘ cu t .
“ Hell-em a pretty kettle of fish,“ said Dirk: “Tom
Durfy, who is en aged to dine With me to-daytp take
leave of his bache or life, as he is going to be married to-
morrow, is arrested. and now in quad, and wants me to
bail him.“ ' “
“The shortest we is topay the money at once, said
Edward‘ “isit muc f"
“ That I don’t know; but I have not a great deal about
me and what I have I want for my journey to London
In my expenses there—not but what I (1 help Tom is I
oul . ' , .
c “ fie must not be allowed to remain there, however we
manage to et hiuiir out," said Edward; “perhaps! can
he! ouint eaffa .“
m“ ou‘re always a good fellow, Ned," said Dick. shak-
his hand Iwarml .
idwurd escaped ill-om hearing any praise of himself by
proposing they should repair at once to the spoPgPig-
ouse and see how matters stood. Dick in he
shonld be called away-at such a moment, for he was ust
going to get his wine ready for the party—particuLii-l
some champagne, which he was desirous of seeing we
Iced; but as he could not wait to do it himself, he called
Andy. to give him directions about it, and set 0! with
Edward to the relief of Tom Durfy.
Md! Wu once more in serum in the Egan family; for

'The name of a celebrated sweep in Ireland. whose

 

 

the Squire, _on finding him still more closely linked by his
marriage with the desperate party whose influence over
Andy was to be dreaded, took advantage of Andy’s disA
gust against the woman who had entrapped him, and
offered to take him oif to London instead of enlisting:
and as Andy believed he would be there suillcieutly out
of the way of the false Bridget, he came off at once to
Dublin With Dick, who was the pioneer of the party to
London. ,

Dick gave Andy the necessary directions for icing the
champagne, which he set apart and ointcd out most pm;
ticularly to our hero, lest he should) make a mistake am!
perchance ice the port instead.

After Edward and Dick had gone, Andy commoner-l
operations according to orders. llc brought a large in!»
up-stairs containing rough ice, which excited Andy’s won
der. for he never had known till now that ice was pru-
served for and applied to such a use, for an ice-house (lid
not happen to be attached to any establishment in which
he had served.

“ Well, this is the quarest thing I ever heerd of,“ said
Andy. “Masha! what outlandish inventions the quolity
has among them! They‘re not content with wine, but
they must have ice along with it—and in atub, too! «

ere goes!“ said he, and Andy opened a bottle of cham~
pagne, and-‘poured it into the tub with the ice. flow it
flzzesl“ sai Andy, “Faix. its almonhu lively as the
soda-wather that bothered me so long ago. Well, 1 know
more about things now; sure its wonillierful how a man
improves with ractlcel"—and another bottle of chum-
pague was emptied into the tub as he spoke. Thus, with
several other complacent connncuts upon his own proi‘i.
Clefl(1y,'AIldy cured half-a-dozen of chain agne into the
tub of me, an remarked, when he had finished his work,
that he thought it would be “mighty cowld on their
stomachs." .

Dick_and Edward all this time were on their way to
the relief of Tom Durf , who, thoriin he had cooled
down from the boiling p tch to which the inisadventurc
of the morning had raised him, was still Aim-nanny,
with his elbows planted on the rickety tub‘e in Mr
Groggins‘ “ bower, ‘ and his chin restin on his cl ruched
hands. It was the very state of min in wh on Tom
was most dangerous.

At the other side of the table sat James Roll. y, iii-
teiitly employed in writin ; his pursed mum and
knitted brows bespoke a la oring state of thin iiii I. and
thewarions crossings. interlinlugs, and blottiigu gave
additional evidence of the same; while now uni iheu a
rush at a line which was knocked oi! in a lllllf}, with
slashing dashes of the en, and fierce after-crossings of
t's, an determined ottings of i‘s, declared some
ghoughll; suddenly seized, and executed with bitter

riump .

“You seem very happy in youran
writin ,“ said Tom. “What is t?
epith amiumf"

“It is a caustic article against the success‘nl non of
the day," said Raddy! “they have no merit, sir- mono.
"l‘ls nothing but lack has dplaced than where thsy are,
and they ought to be expose .“ He then threw do wn his
pen as he spoke, and, afterasilence of some innutes,
suddenly put this uestion to Tom: ,

“ What do on t ink of the world?"

“ Faith, I t ink it so pleasant a place,“ said Tom " that
I'm coufoundedly vexed at bein kc tout of it b,- being
locked up here; and that cursed all is so provokingly
free-and-easy—coming in here every ten minutss, and
milking himself at home."

“ W by, as for that matter, it is his home, you must re-
member. ’

“But while a gentleman is here for aperiod," said
Tom, “this room ought to be considered his, and that
fellow has no business here; and then he bUWII and
scrapes, and talking about the feelings of a cntleniaii,
and all that—‘tis enough to make a dog beat
Curse him! I‘d like to choke him."

“ Oh! that’s merely his manner." said James.

“ Want of manners, you mean," said Tom. “ Hang me,
if becomes a to me with his rascally familiarity again,
but I’ll kick h in down stairs.“

“ My dear fellow, you are excited," said Roddy; “don‘t
let these sublunary trlflcs ruille your temper you see
how I bear it. And to recall you to yourself I will re-
mind you of the question we started from, ~ What do you
think of the world i" There’s a general question—a broad

uestion, upon which one ma talk with temper and soar
a ove the petty grievances 0 life in the and consider-
tion of so ample a subject. You see me ere. a prisoner
likeyourself; but I can talk of the world. Come. be acalui
phillodsopher, like inc! Answer, what do you think of the
wot 1'

“I've told you already," said Tom; “it's a capita.
place, only for the bailiffs. ‘ u

“ I can‘t agree with you," said James. I think it one
vast col of stagnant wretchedness. where the Maria
of in nstice holds her scales suspended, to paispn rising
talent b giving an undue weight to existing preyudices.“

To it s acid and good-tempered piece 01' philosophy.
Tom could only answer, “ You know 1 am no poet, and i
cannot argue with you: but. ‘pon my 80111. I have known.
and do know, some uncommon good fellows in the
world." ‘ l
in Your” wmn , you're wrong, m unsuspecting ifriend.
"ms a bad wcr d, and no place or susceptible minds.
Jealousy pursues talent like its shadow; superiority alone
wins for on the hatred of inferior men. For instance,
why am I ere? The editor of my paper.will not allow
my articles always to appear: prevents their insertion lest
the eflect they would make would cause inquiry, and tend
to my die‘lnction' and the consequence is, that the pa in
1. came  up (1 in Dublin is deprived of my artic es,
and .’ don't 0t aid; while I see inferwr' men, without
inking for l. oaded with favor; they are abroad in
nuluence, and I in captivity and peeverty. out one com-
:imgs, even in disgrace I can wri , and they shall get a

as ing
Thus spoke the calm philosopher, who gave Tom a lee
ture on patience.

Tom waa no great conjuror; but a that moment, like
Andre , “he thanked the gods he was not poetlul- ' If
there lie any one thing more than another to makean
“every-dc . .
exhibition of ambitious inferior! ' striving for t1_Istiiictioii
it can never attain; just given In clout perception to de-
sire the glory of success, withoutpowu ‘0 "168811" $118
strength that can achieve it; like some poor fiy, which
beam in mm against a pane of glass, seeing the sunshine
beyond but incapable of perceving the subtle medium

intervenes—too debate for its

in “Int yin are
Is it .iaother

 

 

u attracted b a crowd aw in and fro in that
:cculiu mannery which'b'llcaae an: M a fight inside

me in applied to the whole.

\

which a i “- united ted I336 to
co rehen but too strong or poi”: pan.
flmuimm-fi-W , «nominal-a

118?. like pigsl—throth, it‘s a dirty thrick. I think. Well,_

is father. 7

y man“ content with his average lot, it is the r

 

 

a» A.

‘ vilfind of himself, he

‘ n cwly-arrivc

only a mutual misunderstanding—that Goggles wouldn‘t

gaudy Andy.

49

 

 

v . ___> __A___II I

ion good feeding to wound the self-love of the vain creature
oeforeliim; so, instead of speaking what licItliounht, vlz.,
“What business have (you to attempt literature, you
conceited fool?" he trio to wean him civilly from his
folly by saying, “ Then come back to the country,
Juiucs- if you find jealous rivals here, you know you
were always admired there."

“No, sir," said James; “even there my merit was
iinackuoe-Lsiged."

“Noi not“ said Tom.

“Well, underrated, at least. Even there. that Ed-
ward O’Connor, somehow or other, I never could tell
why—~I never saw his great talents—hut somehow or:
other, people got it into their heads that he wasIclever.

“I tell you what it is," said Tom, earnestly, ‘ INed-of<
the-Iiill has got into a better place than people alwada
—he has got into their hearts!“ I , II

“ There it isl“ exclaimed James, indignuntlyI.’ You
have caught up the cuckoo-cry—tlie hearti by, air,
uhat merit is there in writing about feelings which any
common laborer can comprehend? There's no poetry in
that; true poetry lies in a iigher 5 here, wheregou have
diiliculty in following the flight o the poet, an possibly
may not be fortunate enough to understand hitn~tliat‘s
lloetry, sir."

“ I told on I am no poet," said 'l‘om- “but all I know
ill. I have elt m heart warm to some oi Edward‘s songs,
and, by jiiigo, I ave seen the women‘s eyes gllistcn, and
their cheeks flush or grow pale, as they have card them

—and that‘s poetry enough for me." I I

“Well, let Mister O‘Connor enjoy his popularity, air. if
popularity it ma be called, in a small country circle—~let

iim enjoy it—I on‘t envy him his, though I think he was
rather 'ealoua about mine.”

“ Ne jealous!" exclaimed Tom, in surprise

“Yes, jealous; I never heard him any a kind word of
any verses I ever wrote in my life; and I am certain he
has most unkind feelings toward me."

“I tell you what it is.“ said Tom, “getting n " a hit;
“I told you I don‘t understand poetry, but I qunder-
stand what's an infinitely better thing, and thiits fine,
generous manly feelin"; and if there‘s a human being in
the world incapable 0 wronging another in his mind or
heart, or readier to help his fellow-man, it isIIEdwurd
O‘Connor: so say no more, James, if you lease.-

Tom had scarcely uttered the last wor , when the key
was turned in the door.

“ Here’s that, infernal bailiff again!“ said Tom, whose
irritability, increased b Reddy‘s paltry egotism and in-
1iustice. was at its boil ng-pitch once more. no planted
iimself firmly in his chair, and putting on his fiercest
frown, was determined to confront Mister (soggins With

an aspect that should actonjsh him.

The door opened, and Mister Goggins made his appear-
:iiiice, presenting to the gentlemen in the room tthliinder
portion of his person, which made several lndlClltIOHSIOf
Courtesy performed by the other half of his body, while
he uttered the words, “ Don‘t be astonished, gentlemen;
'ou’ll be used to it by-and-by." IAnd \vrth these words he
i(-pt backing toward 'I‘om, making these nether demon-
striltions of civility, till Tom could laiiily see the seams
in the back of Mister Goggins‘ pasta (ions.

Tom thought this was some new touch of the “free-
"Id-easy“ on Mister Goggins’ part, and, losing all com-

llillpedél‘og his chIair, aIiid Iwitli a
'- | oroug kick rave . ster 0:; us sucr a ive y im-
Jrgssi’m of his desire that he should leave the room, that
iiistei Goggiiis went head foremost down the stairs,
pitching his whole weight upoIn Dick Dawson and Edward
“Connor, who were ascending the dark stairs, and to
* hom all his bows had been addressed. Overwhelmed
a itli astonishment and twelve stone of bailifl, they were
thrown back into the hull, and an immense uproar in the
passage ensued. I

Edward and Dick were near comininii for some hard
Have from Goggins, conceiving it might be a recon-
‘:ert°ed attcm t on the part of his prisoners an their
friends to achieve a rescue; and while he
“as rolling about on the ground, he roared to his evil-
Hraged janitor to look to the door first, and keep him
from being “ murtliered “ after.

Fortunate] no evil conse uencea ensued, until matters
could be exp aiiied in the ha 1, and Edward and Dick were
introduced to the upper room, from which Goggiiia had
been so suddenly e acted.

There the ba ‘ demanded in a very angry tone the
cause of Tom‘s conduct: and when it was ound to be

t: e 'bert with a ntleman "in defilcu ties" for the
digit? 1dad that Tomqfwouldu‘t hurt a fly on] under a
mistake "-—-matters were cleared up to the sails action of
all parties, and the real business of the macho com-
iiiencedz—thiit was to a Tom‘s debt out of lien ; and
When the build! saw a emauds, fees included, cleared
“If, the clouds from his brow cleared ofi.’ 31150, he was the
"mat amiable of sheriff’s odioers, and all his sentimentality
iv It i' .

555.23% did not seem quite to sympathise with his
umiabilit '. so Goggins returned to the char e, while Tom
.Iiiid Dick were exchanging a few wor With James

h-dd '. I

" on see, sir “ said Gongins, ‘I‘ in the first place.I it is
unite beautiful to see "leaniin in I adversity bearing up
ngainst the little ante-diluvian afflictions that Will happcvi
occasionally, and then how tine it is to remark the spark
'0' 'cnerosity that kindies in the noble heart and rushes
mi eassistaiice of the destituiei I do assure you, sir,
‘t is a most beautiful sight to soeI the gentlemen in dif-
(lcultics waiting here for their friends to come to their
relief, like the last scene in Blue Beard, where sister AnIn
waves her han’kerchief from the tower—the tyrant II
slain—and virtue rewardch _

“ Ah, sir!" said he to Edward O‘Connor, whose look of
disgust at the wretched den caught the bailifi’a it upon,
“don't. entertain an antifassy from first imp salons,
which is often desaivin'. I do pied re you my honor, air,
there is no place in the ‘varsal worl where human nature
is visible in more attractive colors than in this humble
t-et In .

haggard could not conceal a smile at the fellow‘s absur-
"i‘ity, thou 11 his sense of the ridicnlous could not over-
1 ume the isgust with which the place in ir_cd him, He
gave an admonitory touch to the elbow 0 Dick Dawson,
W110 with his friend Tom Durfy, followed Edward from
The room, the bailifil' bringing up the rear, and relockin
flu door on the unfortunate amen Roddy, who was is
:IIIIone in his glory," to nation his clashing article against

a successful men of the y. I

Nothing more than words of recognition Md PESM be-
tween Reddy and Edward. In the first Pine. Edward I
'lnpearance at the very moment Ithe other was indulging
inJliberal observations upon him rendered the ill-tem-

 

might entertain at being) seen in such a place. and there—
foro had too much good rccding to thrust hfii civility on a
man who seemed to shrink from it; but when he left the
house he expressed his regret to his companions at the
poor fellow’s unfortunate situation.

It touched Tom Duri‘y‘s heart to hear these expressions
of compassion coming from the lips of the man he had
heard maligned a few minutes before by the very erson
commiscratcd, and it raised his opinion higher of E ward,
whose hand he now shook with warm expressions of
thankfuliiess on his own account, for the ironipt service
rendered to him. Edward made as light 02 his own kind-
ness us he could, and begged 'I‘om to think nothing of
such a trifle.

“ One word I will say to you, Dnrfy, and I‘m sure you‘ll
pardon me for it."

“ Could you say a thing to oil‘end me i’" was the answer.

“You are to be married soon, i understand?"

“To-marrow," said Tom.

“ Well, my dear Durfy, if you one any more money,
take a rcal friend's :idVicc, and tell your prett good-
bearted widow the whole amount of your debts be ore you
marry her." I

“My dear O‘Connor,“ said Tom, “the mono you’ve
lent me now is all I owe iii the world; ‘twas a lilii’Of‘H bill,
and I quite forn'ot it. You know. no uncover thinks of a
tailor‘s hill. Debts, indeed!“ added ’I‘oiii. with surprise;
“ my dear fellow I never could be much in debt, for the
deril a one would trust me.“

“An excellent reason for your unencumbered state,"
said Edward, “ and I ho c you pardon me.“ '

“Pardon!” exclaiiuc Tom. “I esteem you for your
kind and manly frankness.“

In the course of their progress towards Dick's lodgings,
Edward reverted to James Itcddy‘s wretched condition,
and found it. was but some petty debt for which he was
arrested. IIc lamented, in common with Dick iind Tom
the infatuation which made him desert a duty he ceiil
profitably perform by assisting his father in his farming
concerns, to ursue a literary path, which could never be
any other to iiiii than one of thorns.

As Edward had engaged to meet Gnsty in an hour, he
fiarted from his companions an. pursued his course alone.

ut, instead of proceeding immediately liomeward, he re-
traccd his steps to the den of the builitf and gave a quiet.
tap at the door. Mister Gaggiiis himself answered to the
knock, and began aloud and tlorid welcome to Edward,
who stopped his career of elogui-ncc by laying a finger on
his lip in token of silence. few words sutl‘ieed to ex—
plain tlie motive of his visit. He wished to ascertain the
sum for which the gentleman tip-stairs was detained. The
bailiif informed him; and the money necessary to procure
the captive's liberty was placed in his hand.

'I‘hc bailiff cast one of his melodramatic glances at Ed-
ward, uiid said, “ Didn‘t I tell you, sir, this was the lace
for calling out the noblest feelings of human Ililtlli‘eg'

“Can you oblige me with writing materials?" said
Edward.

“I can, sir,“ said Gaggins, proudly, “and with other
materials* too, if you like-and 'pon my honor I’ll be
proud to drink your health, for you‘re a ran gintle-
man.

Edward. in the civilcst manner, declined the offer,
and u rote, or rather tried to write, the following note
with a pen like a skewer, ink something thicker than
mud, and on whit -brown paper:—

“Dnlm Sm,—I ope you will pardon the liberty I've
taken in your temporaiy want of money. You can re-
pu me at your convenience. Yours, E. O‘IC."

Edward left the den. and so did James Raddy soon
after—a better man. Though weak his heart was not
shut to the immunities of life; and Edward‘s kindness,

in opening his eyes to the wrong he had done one man
induced in his heart akindor feeling towards all. He tore
up his slashing article against successful men. Would
that every disappointed man would do the same.

The bailiff was right: even so low a den as his becomes
ennobled by the presence of active benevolence and pre-
judice reclaimed.

 

CHAPTER XLvn.

Enwaan, on returning to his hotel, found Gusty there
before him, in great delight at haying seen a “s lendid"
horse, as‘he said, which had been biouglit for dward’l
inspection, be having written a note on his arrival in
town to a dealer stating his want of a first-rate hunter.

“He’s in the stable now," said Gusty- “for I desired
the man to wait, knowing on would be here soon."

“I cannot see him now usty,“ said Edward; will you
have the kindness to tell the in 1 can 100i; .i m
horse in his own stable when I w lh to purchaser"

Gusty dc arted to do the measayfi, somewhat in wonder,
for Edwar iovcda fine horse. ut the truth was, Ed-
ward's disposable money which he had intended for the

urchase of a hunter had a serious iiiroad made upon it,
By the debts he had discharged for other men, and he was
forced to forego the pleasure he had roposedI to himself
in the next hunting season; and he id not like tocon.
suuie any onc’s time, or raise false expg-ctiitions, by af-
fecting to look at disposable property With the eye of a
purchaser. when he knew it was be end his reach; and
the flimsy common-places of “I‘ll t ink of it," or “If I
don’t see something better," or any other of the twenty
hackneyed excuses which idle people make, after eon-
stiming hiisy men‘s time, Edward held to he unworthy.
He could ride a hack and deny himself hunting for a
whole season, but he would npt unnecessarily consume

- ' of an man or en m nu es.
thsi‘l‘iliiae {dig/"'11): aneer’ed at by tbeIidie and thoughtless;
nevertheless, it is a part of the minor morality Which is
ever present in the conduct Iof a true gentleman.

Edward had promised to Join Dick's dinner-gluty on an
im mptu invitation, and the clock striking t c appoint.
ed our warned Edward it was time to be oflI; 80, Jump-
in up on a jaiiiiting car, he rattled off to Dick I lodgings,
w era a jolly party was assembled ripe for fun.

Amongst the guests was a rather remarkable man, a
Colonel Crammer, who had seen a monstrous deal of
service—one of Tom Durfy‘s friends whom ne had asked
leave to brill” with him to dinner. Of course, Dick’s card
and a note of5 invitation for the Igallant colonel was im.
mediater dispatched; and he ha but just arrived before
Edward, who found abustling sensation in the room as
the colonel was presented to those already assembled,
and Tom Durfy giving whisper! r Hide. to each person
touching His friend; such aa—“ er remarkable man"—
“ Seen great servico"—-“A litItIle 0d or so -“ A fund of
most extraordinary anecdote, die... are.

Now this Colonel CrammerIwu no other than Tom
Loftua, whose acquaint-M08 Dick wiahed to make, and

 

 

Wrcd' etaster dumb - and Edward attributed this dis-
gi’maar to a'fceliugcl aluqu which Raddy

t we in Ireland to the amend" M
“inforffigzogpoucdinz of museum“

_-... Nib-H _.4. An... _. r i,

I a
that Dick proposed his health, and bade fai-ewellgo the

 

who had been invited to the dinner after a preliminary
visit; but Tom sent an excuse in his own name, and pre-
fer-red being present under a fictitious one—this bciii one
of the odd ways in which his iiiinior broke out, dcs rouii
of givln peo lo a “touch of his quality“ before they
knew hm. I e was in the habit of assuming various
characters; a methodist missionary—the patentee of some
unheard-of invention—the director of rome new Joint
stock company—in short, anything which would give him
an op iortiinity of telling tremendous bouncers was equally
goo or Tom. Ilia reason for assuming a military guise
on this occasion was to bother Moriarty, whom he knew
he should meet, and held a special reason for torment-
ing; and he knew he could achieve this, by throwing ah
the stories Moriarty was fond of telling about his own
service into the shade, b extruvu aiit inventions ot
“ hair-breadth 'scapes" and {rats by “ 00d and field.“ In
decd, the dinner would not be worth mentioning but for
the extraordinary capers Tom cut on the occasion, and
the unheard of lies he s uandcred.

Dinner was announce by Andy, and with good appe- '

titc soup and fish Were soon dispatched; sherry followed
as a matter of necessity. The second course a peered
and was not long under discussion when Dic calls!
for the “ champagne.”

Andy began to drag the tub towarlls the table, and
Dick impatient of delay, again called “ champagne."
th”]tlII'l) bringin‘ it to ypu, sir,“ said Andy, tugging at

e u .

“ Hand it round the table,“ said Dick.

Andy tried to lift the tub, “ to hand it round the table'“
but, finding he could not manage it, he whispered to Die ,
“ I can‘t getit up, sir."

Dick, fancying Andv meant he had got a flask mt in a
sutilcient state of e ervcscence to expel its own cork,
whispered in return “ Draw it, then."

"I was dhrawin' it to you, air, when you stopped me."

“ Well, make haste with it," said Dic .

“Mister Dawson, I‘ll trouble you for a small slice of
the turkey,“ said the colonel.

“ With pleasure, colonel' but first do me the honor to
take chain a me. Andy—c umpagnei"

"Here t. s, airl" said Andy, who had drawn the tub
close to Lick's chair.

“ Where‘s the wine, sir!" said Dick, looking first at the
tub and then at Andy.

“ There sir," said Andy, pointing down to the ice.
put the wine into it, as you towld me.“

I Dick looked again at the tub, and said, “ There is not a
single bottle there—what do you mean. you stupid ras-
c” n

“ To be sure there's no bottle there, air. The bottles
is all on the cf aboard, but every dhrop o’ the wine is in
the ice, as you towld me air; if you put your hand down
into it you ll feel it, air.‘

The conversation between master and man growing
louder as it proceeded attracted the attention of the whole
company, and those near the head of the table ecama
acquainted as soon as DiIck with the mistake A dy had
made, and could not reaist laughter; and as the cause of
their merrlment was told from man to man, and passed
round the board, a roar of laughter uprose, not a little in-
creased by Dick a look of vexution, which at length was
forced to yield to the infectious merriment around him,
and he laughed with the rest, and making a joke of the
disappointment, which is the very best war of push: one
ofl, e said that he had the honor of art outing at ids ta-
ble a magnificent scale of hospitalit ; or though he had
heard of company being enterinine with a whole hogs-
ltead of claret, he was not aware of champagne hciu ever
served in a tub before. The company were too eter-
mined to be marry to have their pleasantry put out of tune
ny so trifling a mishap, and it was enerally voted that
t e joke was worth twice as muchas t e wine. Neverthe-
less, Dick could not-help casting a reproacliful look now
and then at Andy, who had to run the auutlet of many a
joke cut at his expense. while he waits a n the wags at
dinner, and caught a lowly-muttered anat ema wheneve-
he passed near Dick‘s chair. In short, master and mac
were both lad when the cloth was drawn, and the partv
could be le t to themselves. '

Then, as a matter of course Dick called on the entic-
meii to charge their glasses and fill high to a toast ie had
to pro one—they would anticipate to whom he referred»-
a gent eman who was goingto change his state of freedom
for one. oi a happier endings the, to. Dick dashed of!
his sum-ch with several in rth-movin allusions to the
chow nit was cornin over his frien Tom, and havin
fesii. 1 his com oa tion with the proper uantiiy o
“ rosy wreaths " c.. &c., ac" naturally béloiIigin to
such s caches, a wound u with some hearty we a lii'ee

Hi

from dinaga, and mean u all the wave ed and tin-
ished with the rhyming bone ictlon o a “ loti'g life and I
good wife " to him. ~

Tom hoving returned thanks in the same laughiu tyle
lighter foil es of bachelorship ftl the more serious ones of
wedlook, the road was now open for any one who was vo-
cally incl ed. Dick asked one or two, who said the)
were not ithin a bottle of their singing-point at but
them Durfy was sure his friend the colonel won 11 favor

“ With pleasure," said the colonel; " and I‘ll sing some-
thin:r a propriate to the blissful situation of philanderin
in whic you have been indulging of late, my friend.
wish I could ya you any idea of the sougatheard
it warbled by t e voice of an Indian princess, who was
attached to me once, and for whom I ran enormous
risks—but no matier—thlt’l past and one, but
the soft tones of Zullma‘s voice will ever aunt my
hearti The song is a favorite where I heard it—ou
the borders of Cashmere, and is supposed to be can by
afond woman“. me valley of the ni htingalos—' a so
in the original. but as we have no a htin clot in Ira-
land, Ibave substituth the dovc'in o ittle tron‘ala-
titrén I have made, which. if you will allow me, I'll
a empt. ' -

Loud cries of “Hear, heart" and to i of a lid-
ing hands on the table followed, u~hilep¥hggcolongrlglaw
a few prolimina heme; and after some little pilot
tones from his t roat, to show the way, his voice so
echoed in all the glory of song. .

TEE DOVE-DONG.

, I.
I 000/ 000! (loo! Ono! ‘-
Thu- didIhaar M
am! 000/ Coot m ' 
Murmnrin forth hcrlove:

$33351? "mitt? m
mm ‘
v’ on! 0335 am I.”

' I A “4*” . ' " ‘

 

 

I
i
l

i
i
i

 

 

So like the voice of lovers,
‘Twas passing sweet to hear
The birds within the covers,
In the spring-time of the year.

II.

" Cbol 000! 000! 600/
Thus the song's returned again—
Ooo Cbo ' 000 I

Through the shady len;
But there I wandered one and sad,
While eve bird around was glad.
Coo .’ '00! Cool
, Thus so fondly murmured they.
000! 000/ 000/
While my love was away.
And yet the song to lovers,
Though sad, s sweet to hear,
From birds within the covers,
In the spring-time of the year."

The colonel‘s song, given with Tom Loftus’ good voice
was received with great applause, and the fellows all
voted it catching, an began “cooing” round the table
llkeAatparcilzlgf plfgeons. y"

" rans a on rom an eastern t, on say

“ Yes,“ said Tofu. Doe y

“ ’Tis not very eastern in its character," said Moriarty.

‘1‘ I nxiean a free translation, of course,“ added the mock
(-0 one . ‘

“ Would you favorus with the song again, in the origi-
nal?" added Moriarty.

Tom Loftus did not know one syllable of any other
hm uage than his own, and it would not have been con-
veuient to talk gibberish to Moriarty, who had a smatter-
ing of some of t e eastern tongues; so he declined giving
his Cashmerian song in its native purit , because, as he
said, he never could manage to spea ' the r dialect, though
he understood it reasonably well.

“But. there’s a gentleman I am sure, will sin some
other song—and a better one, I have no doubt," sal Tom,
with a very humble prostration of his head on the table,
and anxious by a fresh song to get out of the dilemma in
which Morlarty's question was near placing him.

"Not a better, colonel,".said the gentleman who was
addressed, “ but I cannot refuse your call and I will do
my best; hand me the art wine, 1pm ; always take a
glass of on before sin ~I t in ‘tis good for the
t rout—w at do you say, co onel?“

“ When I want to sing particularly well,“ said Tom, “ I
drink canary."

The gentleman smiled at the whimsical answer, tossed
ofl 'his glass of port, and began.

' LADY MINE.

I.

“ Lady mine! lady mine!
Take the rosy wreaths I twine,
All its sweets are less than thine,
y, y mine!
The blush that on thy check is found
Bloometh fresh the whole year round;
Thy sweet breath as sweet gives sound,
Lady, lady mine!

i n.
r “Lady mine i lady mine!
How I love the graceful vine,
Whose tendrils mock thy ringlet‘s twins,
Lady, lady mine!
How I love that gen‘rous tree,
Whose ripe clusters promise me
Bumper‘s bright,-to pledge to that.
Lady, lady mine!
III.
“ Lady mine! lad minsl
Like the stars t at nightly shine,
Thy sweet eyes shed light divine.
ady, lady mine!
And as sages wise, of old,
From the stars could fate unfold,
Thy bright slyles m fortune told,
dy, ady mine!“

The song was just in the style to catch ntlemen
after dinner-the second verse particularly, an many a
glass was em tied of a “bum or bright,’ and pledged

the articu r “thee” whic each individual had se-
lected or his devotion. Edward, at that moment, cer-
tainly thou ht of Fanny Dawson.

Le teeto on say what they please, there is a genial
influence inspired by wins an song—not in excess, but
in that wholesome degree which stirs the blood’ and
warms the fancy; and as one raises the glass to the lip,
over which some sweet name lsjust breathed from the
depth of the heart what libation so fit to pour to absent
friends as wme? What “wins? It is the gra 3 present
in another form; its essence is there. thougg the fruit
which egraduced it grew thousands of miles away, and
perish years ago. So the object of many a tender
thou ht may be spiritually present, in defiance of space—
and 51nd recollections cherished in defiance of time.

As the party became more convivial, the mirth began to
\ssume a broader form. Tom Dlfl'fy drew out Moriarty
on the subject of his servxces, that the mock colonel
might throw every new achievement into the shade: and
this he did in the most barefaced manner, but mixin so
much of probability with his audacious fiction that t rose
who were not up to the oke only supposed him to be a

gnat romancer: w ile those friends who were in
1.0?tus’confldence exhibited a most ca acious stomach
for the marvelous, and backed up his ies wrtha ready
credence. If Moriarty told some fearful incident of

a tiger hunt, the colonel capped it with something more

wonderful of Bhilfllterlng hens in a wholesale way, like

rabbits. When oriarty expatiated on the intensi of
r tropical heat, the colonel would upset him with some ing
l more appalling.

“Now, sir,“ said Loftns, “let me ask you what is the
greatest amount of heat you have ever experienced—I say
'mierimed. not heard of—for that goes for nothing. I

alwa s speak from experience."

“ Well. sir,“ said Moriarty, “I have known it to be so
hot in India thstIhave had a hole do in the ground
under my tent, and sat in it, and put stab e standino over
the hole, to try and guard me from the intolerable ervor
°’ m with“? “$31395? I "“ iii" Yhii‘“

on sayw to one oriart , ump an y.
2;;va you ever been in the West dies?" inquired

tus.
“Never,” said Moria-PW. W110, once entrapped into this
ulnnssion, was directly at the colonel‘s mercy.——and the

The New YOI‘K Library.

 

goers in the West Indies an umbrella burned over a man‘s
ea . ~

“ Wonderful!“ cried Loftus‘ backers.

“ ‘Tis strange, sir " said Moriarty, “ that we have never
seen that mentioned by any writer.“

“Easily accounted for, sir," said Loftus. “ ‘Tis so
common acircumstance that it ceases to be worthy of ob-
servation. An author writing of this country might as
well remark that the apple-women are to be seen sitting
at the corners of the streets. That‘s nothing, sir; but
there are two things of which I have personal knowledve,
rather remarkable. One day of intense heat (even for that
climate) I was on a visit at the plantation of a friend of
mine, and it was so out-o‘-the-way scorching that our lips
were like Cinders, and we were obliged to have black
slaves pouring sangaree down our throats b gallons—I
don‘t hesitate to say, gallons—and we thong t we could
not have survived throu lithe day; but what could we
think of our sufferings, w en we heard that several ne-
groes, who had gone to slee under the shade of some
cocoanut trees, had been scal ed to death?“

“ Scaldedi'” said his friends; “ burnt, you mean."

“No, sculded' and how do you think? The intensity
of the heat had cracked the cocoanuts, and the boiling
milk inside dropped down and-produced the fatal result.
The same day a remarkable accident occurred at the bat«
tery; the French were hovering round the island at the
time, and the governor being a timid mun, ordered the
guns to be always kept loaded.“

“1 never heard of such a thing in a battery in my life,
sir," said Moriarty.

“ Nor I either ‘ said Loftus, “I! then.“ ‘

“What was t e governor‘s nun , sir,” inquired Mon-
artyipursuing his train of doubt. . o

“ on must excuse me, captain from naming ’him,"
said Loftus, with readiness “after tncautimwly saying he
was timid."

“ Hear, hear!” said all the friends.

“ But to ursue my stor , sin—the guns were loaded,
and with t e intensit o the heat went off, one after
another, and quite rid led one of his Majesty‘s frigates
that was lying in the harbor."

“That‘s one of the most difficult riddles to compre-

hend I ever heard,“ said Morinrlty.

“The frigate answered the ddle with her guns, sir,
I promise ou.”

“ What! ‘ exclaimed Moriarty, “fire on the fort of her
own king?"

“ There is an honest principle exists among sailors,
sir, to return fire under all circumstances, wherever it
comes from, friend or foe. Fire, of which they know
the value so well, they won‘t take from anybody.‘

“ And what was the conse uence?" said Moriarty.

“ Sir, it was the most harm ess broadside ever delivered
from the ports of a British frigate; not a single house or
human being was injured—the da was so hot that every
sentinel ha sunk on the ground in utter exhaustion—the
whole population were asleep; the only loss of life which
occurred was that of a blue macaw, which belonged to the

commandant‘s daughter."
I beg to know?" said Mo-

“ Where was the macaw ma
riarty, cross- uestioning the co one! in the spirit of s coun-
sel for the do ense on a capital indictment.

“ In the drawin -room window, sir."

“Then surely t e ball must have done some damage in
the house?“

“ Not the least, sir," saidLoftus, sippinghis wine.

“Surel , Colonel!” returned Moriarty, warming, “ the
bail con) not have killed the macaw without injuring the
house i“

“ My dear sir," said Tom, “I did not say the ball killed
the macaw; I said the macaw was killed; but that was in
consequence of a splinterfrom an epaulment of the south-
east angle of the fort which the shot struck and glanced
off harmlessly—except for the casualty of the macaw.“
Moriarty returned a kind of grunt, which implied that,
though he could not further slim, he did not batons.
Under such circumstances tak ng snufl is a great relief to
a man; and, as it happened, Moriarty, in takin snuff,
could gratify his nose and his vanit at the same t me, for
he sported a silver-gilt anon-box w ich was presented to
him in some extraordinary way, and bore a grand inscrip-
tion.

0n this“piece of plate " being produced, of course it
went round the table and Moriarty could scarcely conceal
the satisfaction he felt as each person read the engraven
testimonial of his worth. When it had one the circuit
of the board, Tom Loftus put his hand nto his pocket
and pulled out the butt-end of a rifle, which is always fur-
nished with a small box, cutout of the solid part of the
wood and covered with a plate of brass acting on a hinge.
This box, intended to carry small implements for the use
of the rilleman; to keep his piece in order, was filled with
snail", and Tom said, as he laid it down on the table,
“ This is my snuff-box, gentlemen; not as handsome as
my gallant friend‘s at the op osite side of the table, but
extremely interesting to me. t was revious to one of our
dashing aflairs in Spain that our flemsn were thrown
out in front and on the flanks. The rifles were 8:3-
ported by the light com anics of the regiments in .
vance, and it was in the utter dnt I was engaged. We
had to feel our way through a woo and had cleared it of
the enemy, when, as we debauched from the wood on the
o osite side, we were charged by an overwhelming force
ofi’olish lanceis and cuirussiers. Retreat was impossible
—resistance almost ho )eless. ‘ My lads, said I, ‘ws
must do somethingmv here, or we are lost—startle them
b fresh practice—the bayonet will no longer avail you—
cfi’ib our muskets, and hit the horses over the neses, and
they‘ll smell dan er.‘ They took my advice; of course
we first delivers a withering volley, and then to it, we
went in nail fashion, thrashin away With the butt-ends of
our mnskets; and sure enoug the French were aston-
ished and driven bask in amazement. So tremendous,
air, was the hittin on our side, that in many instance.
the butt-ends of t e muskets snapped 03 like tobacco-
pi es, and the field was quite strewn with them after the
again I picked one of them up as a little niemepto of the
da , and have used it ever since as a snufl-box.

iv one was amused by the 01112111060118 romancing of
the co onel but Moriarty who looked rather disgusted,
because he could not edge in a word of his cm at all; he
gave up the thing now in despair, for the colonel had tan

is own way, like the bull in achina—shop; the more start-
lin the bouncers he told the more successful were his an-
e otes, and he kept pouring them out with the most as.
tounding rapidity; and though all voted him the greatest
“If they ever met, none suspected he was not a military
Ins

11.
Did: wanted Edward O’Connor, who sat beside him,
'50 Bing: but Edward wh red, “For Heaven‘s sake

 

hunched out fearlessq
M N

a! ' .
“’9‘; good all. Jon know nothing of host I have

have him. Pray, sir," said Edward to the colonel, “ have
you ever been in any of the cold climates? I amiuduced
to ask you, from the very wonderful anecdotes you have
told of the hot ones."
‘I‘B'less you, sir, I know every corner about the north
e

“In which of the expeditions, may I ask, were you en'
gaged?" inquired Moriarty.

‘ In none of them, air. We knocked up allttle amateur
part1 ,Iand a few curious friends, and certain] we wit-
nessed wonders. You talk here of asliarp winth; but the
wind is so sharp there that it cut oil‘ our board and whisk-
ers. Boreas is a great barber, sir, with his north pole for
a sign. Then as for frost l—I could tell you such incredi-
ble things of its intensity; our butter, for instance was as
hard as a rock; we were obliged to knock it ofl‘ with a
chisel and hammer, like a mason ata piece of granite
and it was necessary to be careful of your e es at break-
fast, the splinters used to fly about so; indee one of 0111
fiarty did lose the use of his eye fromabutter splinter.

ut the oddest thing of all was to watch two men talking
to each other: lyou could observe the words, as they came
out their moat s, suddenly frozen and droppin down in
little pellets of ice at their feet, so that, after a on con-
versation, you might see a man standing up to his uses
in his own eloquence.“

The all roared with laughter at this last touch of the
marve ous, but Loftus preserved his gravity.

“I don‘t wonder, gentlemen, at our not recoivin that
as truth—I told you it was incredib e—in short, that is the
reason I have resisted all temptations to ublis. Murray,
Lon mans, Colburn, Bentley, ALL the u lishers have of-
fer-c me unlimited terms, but I have a ways refused—mot
that I am a rich man, which makes the temptation of the
thousands I might realize the harder to withstand; ’tis
not that the gold is not precious to me, but there is some-
thing dearer to me than old—it is my character or verm-
in —nnd, therefore, as am convinced the ab ic would
not believe the wonders I have witnessed confine the
recital of m adventures to the social circ e. But what
profession a ords such scope ior varied incident as that
of the soldier? Change of clinic, danger, vicissitude, love,
war, privation one day, profusion the next, darkling dan-
gers, and sparkling joys Zoundsi there‘s nothing like
the life ofa soldieri and, by the powers! I‘ll give you a
son in its praise.“

T e proposition was received with cheers and Ton:
rattled away these ringing rhymes— I

THE BOWLD SOJER BOY.

I.
“ 0h there‘s not a trade that’s going
Worth showing,
0r knowing,
Like that from growing,

lory
For a ow dsojer boy:
Where rl ht or left we go,
Sure on now,
Frien or foe,
Will have the hand or toe
From a bowld soier boy!
There’s not a town we march thro‘,
But the ladies, looking arch thro‘,
The window-panes, Will search thro',
The ranks to find their joy;
While 11 the street, . 2‘
Each ir you meet, 4
With ook so sly,
Will cry
‘My eye!
on, isn‘ he a darling, the bowld soier boy!"

II.

" But when we get the routs,
How they out
And they s out
' While to the right about
Goes the bowld soier boy.
0h, ’tis then that ladies fair
In' des air
Tear t eir hair,
But ‘ the divil-a-one I care,’
Says the bowld soier boy.
For the world is all before us,
Where the landladies adore us,
And ne'er refuse to score us,
But chalk us up w th Joy;
We taste her tap,
We tear her cap,— '
‘ Oh, that’s the chap ~
gar mg! I .
avs s e;
' 0h, isn‘t he a darling, the bowld soier boy.’

in.

" ' Then come along with no.
grahmschilrlee,
n 011‘ see
o ‘18. on will be
H w pp ith your bowld soier boy:
Faith! if you‘re up to fun,
With me run;
Pg“ be dmie of a gun ' '
e sue a
n Eysgthe bowld sojer boy;
‘ And 'tis then that without scandal,
Myself will proudly dandle .
The little farthing candle
Of our mutual time, my Joy!
Ms. his lighhshine
As right as mine,
TB in the line
He’ll blaze, i
And raise
The glory of his corps, like a bowld soier boyt'”

Andy entered the room while the son was in P108100,
and handed a letter to Dick, which, a r the song was
over and he had asked ardon of his guests, he opened.
th‘qéyrgovel you sing right well. Colonel," said one of

e I Iy.

“ think the ant colonel's songs nothing in can
parlson with hisgglondsrpd stories," said Moriarty.

“ Gentlemen,” said D ck, “wonderful as the colonel‘s
recitals have been, this letter conveys a tees of informa-
tion more surprlsln’g than anything we ya heard this
day. That stupid ellovv who spoiled our chums. in.
come in for the inheritance of a large pm my.
"Whati—Eandy Andy?" ixclain‘ed t use who know

“.41.. .. .

 

don‘t amp the flow of lava N)!!! that mighty cru tion of
liesl—he s a perfect Vesuvius of mendaclgy. You never
muthlsilkesasin,» themost hll'hllsyou

his .
--"“‘§,  said Dick. " is now a man of fortune!“

 

})

Handy! Andy.

 

Cll A A'l‘lilt XLVl II.

n was unote from Squire Egan which conveyed the
news to Dick that caused so much sur rise; the details
of the case were not even hinted at; t ie barc'fact alone
was mentioned, with a caution LO preserve it still a secret
from Andy. and appointing an hour for dinner It Morri
mn‘s“ next (in , at which hotel the Squire expected to
arrive from t re country, will] his lady and Fanny Daw-
mn. en route for London. Till dinner-time, their, the day
following, Dick was obliged to lay by his impatience as to
the “why and wherefore " of Andy‘s sudden advance-
ment; but as th-~ li‘lOl‘lllll" was to be occupied with 'loiii
linrl‘y‘s wedding, Dick had enough to keep him engaged
in the nu-untime.

At the appointed hour a few of Tom‘s particularI

friends were in lilli‘ll lance to witness the ceremony, or,
to use their own phrase. “to see him turned. 03’» unfl
among them was 'l‘oui Lofius. Dick was holding out his
hand to “ the colonel," when Tom Duri’y stepped be-
tween and introduced him under his me name. The
viiasquerading trick of the night before was laughed at.
with the assurance from Dick that it only fulfilled all he
had ever heard of the l’rotcan powers of a gentleman
whom he so much wished to know. A few minute s con—
versation in the recess of a window put 'I‘om Loitus and
Mid Dick the Devil on perfectly good terms, and Loflus
proposed to Dick that they should execute the old estab-
islied trick on a bridegroom, of snatching the llrst kiss
from the bride.

“ You must get in Tom‘s way,“ said Loftus, “ and I‘ll
kiss her.“

“Why, the fact is," said Dick, “ I had proposed that
pleasure to myself- and. if it is all the same togrou, you.
can jostle Tom, and I'll do the remainder in goo style, I
promise you.“ '

“That I can‘t agree to,” said Loftus; “ but as it ap-

pears we both have set our heart on cheating the bride»‘

room, let us both start fair, and it is odd if between us

‘om Durfy is not done. " _

This was a'rrt-ed upon, and many mimites did not
elapse till the bride made her appearance, and “hostili-
ties were about to commence." The mutual enemy of
the “high contracting; parties“ first opened his book and
then his mouth. and in such solemn tones. that it was
“(High to frighten even a widow, much less a bachelor.
As the ceremony verged to a conclusion, Toni Loftiis and
Dick the Devil edged up towards the vaiita-re-ground on
either side of the blooming widow, now nearly iinished
“Ho :1 Wife, and stood like greyhounds in the slip, ready
{0 start after puss (ony puss ought to he spelt
“ere with a . The Widow, having been mar-
ried before, was less nervous than Dll'rfy, and, sus-
Dectin the intended game determined _to forl
ooth tiie brigaiids, who intended to rob the bridegroom
0' his right; so, when the last word of the ceremony
was spoken, and Loftus and Dick made a simultaneous

‘ dart upon her, she very adroitly ducked, and allowed

the two “ruggers and movers” to rush into each oth-
er‘s arms, and rub their noses together, while Tom
Durfy and his blooming bride scaled their contract very
agreeably without their noses getting in each other’s
wa .
genus and Dick had only a laugh at their pwn ex-
Illi‘nse, instead of a kiss at Tom‘s, upon the failure of
their lot; but Loftus, in a whisper to Dick, vowed he
would1 execute atrick upon the “pair of them” before
the day was over. ,
There was a breakfast as usual, and chicken and
mill'gue and wine, which, taken in the morning, are
provocative of eloquence; and, of course, the proper
inantity of healths and toasts were executed xeon la
Mile, until it was time for the bride and bridegroom to
pw and blush and curtsey outt1 01f t3: roomhmidpnrgglkse
«emselves food fora paragrap n e morning ,
under the title of the “happy pair," who set 011 in a
handsome charirt, &c., &c.

 

Tom Diirf and en a ed a irctty cottage in the neigh-
lNil-hood of Ziontarf {gogpass t e honeymoon. Tom Lol‘tus
knew this, and knew moreover, that the sitting-room
100km) Jflt on a small awn which lay before the house,
Screened bya. hedge from the road, but with a circular
Sweep leading up to the house, and a ate of ingress and
“p’ress at either end of the hedge. n thisritting-room
“an, after lunch, was pressing his lady fair to take a
Hiass of champagne, when the entrance-gate was thrown
“Pen, and a hackney jaunting car with Tom_ Loftus and a
dead or two upon it, driven by a special ragamuflin
hlowing a tin horn, rolled up the skimpmgl avenue, and as
it scoured past the windows of the Sitting-room, Tom
Loftns and the other passengers kissed hands to the as-
gouished bride and bridegroom, and shouted, “ Wish you

a l“

"Ills thing was so sudden that Durfy and the widow, not
Peeing Loft'us, could hardly comprehend what it meant,
umi both ran to the window; but ust as they reached it,
"D drovcanother car, freighted With two or three more
Wild rascals who followed the lead which had been given
them; and as a lou train of cars were seen in the distance
** driving up to tie avenue, the \vidow, With a timid
little scream, threw her handkerchief over her face and
"m intoacomer. Tom did not know whether to laugh
“T be an ry, but, being a good-bummed fellow,’ e
satisfied h inself with a few oaths against the incorrigible
:0ftus and when the cottage had passed, endeavored to
foster the startled fair one to her serenity.

S uire Evan and arty arrived to the appointed hour at
.cei'ti hotel,°where Dick was waiting to receive them, and,
of course, his inquiries were immediately directed to the
“Xtraordinary circumstance of Andy‘s elevation, the dc-
rails of which he desired to know. These we shall not
give in the expanded form in which Dick heard them, but
findeavor to condense, as much asposslble, Within the
limits to which we are prescribed. .

The title of Scatterbrain had never been inherited di-
l'ectly from father to son; it had descended in a zigza
is ion, most appropriate to the nam e, nephews an
<ousins having come in for the coronet and the p50 erty

01' some generations. The late lord had led a mu. ach-
elor life u m the age of sixty, and then thought it not
wOrth w lie to marry, though many ' mammas and
dailghters spread their nets and arrayed their charms to
“n N! the sex enarian.

Th: truth wig, he had qnafled the cup of licentiouo
“588nm all his life after which he thought matrimony
would prove insipid. The mere uoyelty induces Some
men. under similar circumstances, to 'try the holy estate;
but matrimony could not offer to Lord Scatterbram the
charms of novelty. forhe had been once married» though
"9 one bir“ “ms if was cognizant of thleact. .

e reader will certainly say. “ Here 5 an Irish; bull,
“OW could a man be married, without, at least. a woman

V N‘ who! being joint pnmuori of the count?"

I _

 

ou shall hear how none but

Liston, gentle reader, and ‘
ord Scatterbrain was mar-

1103d Scatterbruin knew
rie .

There was nothing at which he ever stopped for the
gratification of his passions—no wealth he would not
squander, nodcceit he would not practise, no disguise he
would not assume. Therefore, gold, and falsehood. “Dd
masquerading were extensively employed by this reckless
rot/é iii the service of Venus, in which service, combined
with that of Bacchus, his life was entirely passed

Oftcnhc assumed lheguise ot'u man in humble life,
to approximate some object of his desire, whom
flue clothes and brih.ry would have instantly warned;
and in two many cases his lll‘i‘illtitls were successful.
It was in one of these adventures be cast his eyes
upon the woman hitherto known in Ibis story under
the name of the Widow Rooney; but all his practices
against her virtue. were unavailing, and nothing but a mar-
riage could accomplish what he had set his fancy upon;
but even this would not stop him, for lie 1/L(17‘1'i£(l her.

The Widow Ronni-y has appeared no very inviting
pcrsnnage through these pages. and the reader may
wonder that aiiiaiiol’ rank could proceed to such dos-
perate lengths upon such slight temptation: but,gcntlc
reader, she was young and attractive when she was
married—never to say handsome, but good-looking. de-
cidedly. and with that sort of figure which is compre—
hended in the phrase " a fine girl."

And has that fltiogirl altered into the Widow Rooney ?
A111 poverty and hardship are sore trials to the body as
well as to the mind. Too little is it considered, while we

one on aristocratic beauty, how much good food. soft
yiugy warm wrapping, ease of mind. have to do with the
attractions which command our admiration. Many a
hand moulded by nature to give elegance of form to a kid
glove, is “ stiiiteil of its fair proportion ” bv gruhhing toil.
The foot which mighthave excited the admiration of a
ball-room, pee )iiig under a iloiilwe of lace in a satin shoe
and treading t c iiiuzy dance, will grow coarse and broad
by trtimping in its native state over toilsoiuo miles, hearing
pei'cliaiire to a market. town some few eggs, whose whole
produce would not purchase the sandal-tie of my lady’s
slipper; will grow red and rough by standing,r in wet
trenches, and feeling the winter’s frost. The neck on
which diamonds might have worthin sparkled, will look
less tempting when the biting winter lius hung icicles
there for gems. Cheeks formed as fresh for dinipling
blushes, eyes as well to sparkle, and lips to smile, as
those which shed their brightness and their witcliery in
the tapestricd saloon, will grow pale with want, and for-
et their dimples, when smiles are not there to wake
t ieni; lips become compressed and drawn with anxious
thought, and eyes the brightest are quenched of their
fires by many tears. ‘

Of all these trials oor Widow Rooney had enough.
Her husband. after livnig with her a month, in the char-
acter of a steward in some great man in a distant part of
the country, left her one day for the purpose of transact-
ing business at a fair, which, he said, would require
his absence for some time. At the end of a week, a letter
was sent to her, stating that the make-believe steward
had robbed his master extensively, and had lied to Amer-
ica. whence he promised to write to her, and send her
means to follow him, requesting, in the meantime, her
silence. in case any inquiry should be made about him.
This villiauous trick was played off the more readily.
from the fact that a steward had abseonded at the time,
and the difference in the name the cruel profilgatc ac-
counted for by saying that, as he was hiding at the
moment he married her. he had assumed another name.

The poor deserted girl, fully believing this trumped-up
tale obeyed with unflinching fidelity the injunctions of
her betrayer, and while reports were flying abroad of the
absconded steward, she never breathed a word of what
had been confided to her, and accounted for the absence
of “Rooney” in various ways of her owu' so that all
trace of the profilgato was lost. by her remaining inactive
in making the smallest inquiry about him, and her very
fidelity to her betrayer became the means of her losing all
power of procuring his discovery. For months she trusted
all was right; but when nioon followed moon, and she
gave birth to a boy without hearing one word of his
father, misgiving came upon her, and the only consolation
left her was, that, though she was deserted, and a cliilri
left on her hands, still she was an honest woman. That
child was the hero of our tale. The neighbours passed
some ill-natured remarks about her,whcn it began to be
suspected that her husband would never lot or know
more about him; for she had been rather a saucy lady,
holding up her nose at poor men, and triumphing in the
catching of the “steward,” a man well to do in the
world; and it may be remembered, that this same spirit.
existed in her when Andy‘s rumoured marriage with
Matt gave the prospect of er aifairs being retrieved, for
she isplaycd her love of pre'eminenoe to the, very first

crson who gave her the good news. The ill-nature of
iier neighbors, however after the birth of her child
and thv descrtion of her husband, inducing her to leave
the scene of her unmeritcd wrongs and annoyances, she

snddenl decnmped, and, removing to another
part ofy Ireland, the poor woman began a life
of hardship to support herself and rear the

offspring of her unfortunate marriage. In this task
she was worthily assisted b one of her brothers, who
pitied her condition, and jomed her in_ her retreat. He
married in course of time, and his wife died in givingbirth
to Oonah, who was soon deprived of her other parent
by typhus fever, that terrible scourge of the poor; so that
the praiseworthy desire of the brofhcr to. befriend his
sister only involved her, as it happened in the deeper
difficulty of sup )ortin two children instead of one, This
she ,did heroically, an the orphan girl rewarded her, by
roving a greater comfort than her own child; for Andy
had inherited in all its raciness ilie blood of the Scatter-
brains, and his deeds, as recorded in this. history, prove
he was no unworthy representative of that ii lust ions title.

To return to his father—who had done th grievous
wrong to the poor peasant girl: he lived his life of roili-
gac throu h, and ma foreign country died at his ; but
on is deat -bed the scourge of con seioncc rendered every
helpless hour an age of woe. Bitterest of all was the
thought of the wi e deceivedrdesfrtcd. and unacknowl-
edged. To face his last account With such fearful crime
upon his head he dared not, and made all the re "ratio-n
now in hispower, b 'avowing his marriage in his list will
and testament, an vinfi all the information in his

owerxto trace his wi e. if Must 01' his heir. if such ex-
sted. He enjoined, by the most sacred injunctions upon
him to whom the charge was committed, that tummy cost
not trouble should be 5 arcd in the search, leaving a in e
sum in ready money esides, to establish the right, in
case his no how disputed the will. By his own or en his
death was ept secret, and secretlms agent set to work
to discover .3th of the hair I. in consecueuoo of

 

l

5 1
the woman changing her place of abode, became morn
difficult: and it was not until after very minute inquiry
that some trace was picked up, and a letter written to the
parish priest of the district to which she had removed,
making certain general inquiries. It was found, on com-
pari‘ug dates some time alter, that it was this very lette.
to 11 other Blake which Andy had purloined from the post
olhce, and the Squire had thrown into the tire; so that our
hero was very near, by his blundcrlng, destroying his own
fortune.
telligeiit agent was engaged in his cause, and a on se uem
iiiqulr ', and finally a personal visit to Father li like,
clearc the matter up satisfactorily, and the widow wal
enabled to produce such roof of her identity, and that of
her’soii, that Handy Allt y was indisputably Lord Scatter-
brain; and the whole aflziir was managed so secretly, that
the death of the late lord, and the claim of title and estates
in the name of the rightful heir, were announced at the
same moment; and the “Honorable Sackville," instead
of eonilnr into possession of the peerage and pro MW.
and lighting his adversary at the great advanta e 0 p0!-
session, could only commence a suit to drive h in out, if
he sued at all.

Our limits compel us to this brief sketch of the circum-
stances through which lluudy Andy was entitled to and
became possessed of a property and a title, and we must
now say something of the eflects produced by the intelli-
gence on the parties most concerned.

_',l‘hc Honorable Sackvillo Scatterbrain, on the advice of
lllflll legal authority, did not aitetnpt to dispute a succes—
sion of which such satisfactory proofs existed, and, for-
tunately for himself, had knocked up a watering-place
match, while he was yet in the bloom of heirsliip presump-
fztive to a peerage, wit the daughter of an English mailma-

re.

When the Widow Rooney heard the extraordinary turn
ailairs had taken, her emotions, after the first few hours
of pleasurable surprise, partook of regret rather than sat-
isfaction. She looked upon her past life of suffering, and
felt as if li‘ate had cheated her. She, a eercss, had passed
her life in poverty and suffering, With contempt from
those over whom she had su erior rights; and the few
years of the prosperous future iefore her offered her poor
compensation for the pinching net. But after such sel-
fish considerations, the niiiternu feeling came 10 her re-
lief, and she rejoiced that lwr son was 3 lord. But then
came the terrible thought of his marriage to dash her joy
and triumph.

This was a source of grief to Oonah as well. “If he
Wzlfil’l’tjlllarl‘led," she would say to herself, " I might be
Lady bcuttcrhruin;“ and the tears would bunst through
poor Oonuh's fin era as she held them up to her eyes
and sobbcd heaVily, till the poor girl would try to
gather consolatlon from the thought that. maybe.
Andy‘s altered circumstances would make
disregarded. “ There would be plenty to have him
now, thought she, ” and he wouldn t think of me.
inavbe— so ‘tis well as it is.“

When Andy heard that he was a lord-a real lord—and
after the first shock of astonishment, could comprehend
that wealth and power were in his possession, he, though
the most interested person, never thought, as the two
women had done of the desperate strait in which his

marriage placed him, but broke out into short eals cf

laughter, and exclaimed in the intervals, “tbs it WIB'

mightyquarez'j and when, after much questioning, any
intelligible desire he had could be understood, the first
one he clearly e reused was “ to have a cold watch.”
He was made, owever, to understandt mt other things
than “ goold watches” were of more importance; and the
Squire, with his characteristic good nature, endeavored to
open Andy’s comprehension to the nature of his altered
situation. This it may be supposed, was rather a com
phcated piece of work, and too difficult to be set down
in black and white; the most intelligible portions tc
Andy were his immediate removol from servitude;and
n ready-made suit of gentlemunlv apparel, which made
Andy pay several visits to the looking-glass. Gooduatureo
as the bqiure was, it would have beene uallyawkward
to him as to Andy for the newly fledged ord though A
lord. to have a seat at his table, neither could he remain
in an inferior position in his house; so Dick, who loved
fun. volunteered to_ take Andy under his especial care to
London, and let him share is lodgings. as a bachelor
may do many things which a man surrounded by his fam-
ily cannot. Besides, in a place distant from such extra-
ordinary chances and changes as those which befall our
hero, the sudden and startling difference of position oi
the parties not being known renders it possible for I
cut emuu to do the good-natured thin which Dick un
ertook, without compromisin himsel . In Dublin it
would not have done for Dick awson to allow the man
who would have held his horse the day before, to share
the same board with him merely because Fortune had
had iplitiiyed one of her frolics and made Andy a lord; but
in Lon on the case was different. '
I To Londoritlierefore the roceeded. Thoincidentsoftha
Journey. sea-sickness inc u ed, which so astonished the

"“w haven“! we Puss over, as well as the number-less;
mistakes in the glen metropolis, which afforded Dick;

plentiful amusement thou h, in truth, Dick had better
91) ects in view than laugth at Andy's embarrassments
in iis new osition. He really wished to heel him in the
tlifiicult put into which the new lord had ecn thrust,
and did this in a merry sort of way more successfully
than bv serious drilling. It was hard to break Andy of
tho hdbit of saying ‘ M ether Dick," when addressin

hlm,but, at last, "Misther Dawson" was establishe .
Eating with his knife, drinking as loudly asa horse, and
other ike accomplishments, were not so easily got under,
yet it was wonderful how much be improved, as his shy-
iiess grew less, and his consciousness of being a lord
grow stronger.

But, if the good nature of Dick had not prompted him
to take Andy into training, the newl discovered noble-
man would not have long een in wan of society. It was
wonderful haw many persons were eager to show civility
to his lordship, and some a ongst them even went so far
as to discover relationship. lenty were soon ready to
rake Lord scatterbraln here, and escort him there, accom
puny him to exhibitions and other ublic places, and
charmed all the ’time with! his lor shi 's remarks-—
“ they were so original "—‘f quite dellnhtfu to meet somea
thing so fresh "—“ bow remarkab y clever the Irish
were!" Such were union the observations his orani
blunders roducrd‘ and e who, as Hand An , had
been unlit ematisedall his life as a “stupid, rascal," “I
blunderln thief."“athick-hcaded brute,‘ &c., under the
title of 0rd Scattcrbraln all of a sudden was voted
“ vastly amusing—a little eccentric, perhaps, but no men
.111 fut, so wittyl" ,

'l his “as all very delightful for And —-iio dell hm
ihathe u‘liii' forgot Bridget rhea. Butt titled d not
leave him long in his hop

Luckily for him, however, an nntirinr and in- .

Nahum-non. One gr hug:

 

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iis i’orcflnger, and uncoi ng it again his repose was sud-
lenly disturbed by the appearance of Brld et .herself, ac-
‘umpanied by Slum Mon and a shrimp 0 man in rug?
ilac , who turned out to be a shabby attorney who
ninced money to convey his lady client and her brother to
London, for the purpose of making adash at the lord at
inch. and securing a handsome sum by aeoup do main.

Andy, though taken by suprise, was resolute. Bitter
words were exchangei; and as thev seemed likely to lead
to blows, Andy rudentl laid hold of the poker, and, in
language not qu te suite to a noble lord. swdre he would
see what the inside of Shari More’s head was made of, if
he attem ted to advance upon him. Bridget screamed
Iind scol ed. while the attorney endeavored to keep the
peace, and, beyond everything, urged Lord Scatterbrain to
enter at once into written engagements for a handsome
settlement. upon his “lady.”

“ Ladyl “ exclaimed Andy; “ ohl—a pretty lady she

'is

I“ I’m as good a lady asyou are a lord, anyhow," cried

Bridget.
" ltcrcation will do no good, my lord and my lady,"
said the attorney; “let me sugeest the pro riety of your
~vriting an en agement at once;’ and the lit e man pushed
pen ink. an paper towards Andy.

“ can’t, I tell you! “ cried An y.

“ You must! ” roared Shun More.

‘ Bad luck to on, how can I when I never'learned f"

“Your lords p can make your mark," said the attor—

ney.

“ Faith I can—with a poker,“ cried Andy; “and on’d
better take care, muster archment. Make m niar , in.
deed—do you think I‘d sgrace the House 0’ eers b let-
tin‘ on that alord couldn't writer—Quit the buildin’, tell
youl

In the midst of the row, which now rose to a tremend-
ous pitch, Dick returned; and after a severe re rimand to
the pettifog er for his sinister attempt on An y, referred
him to Low? Scatterbrain‘s solicitor. It was not such an
easy matter to silence Bridget, who extended her claws
towards her lord and master in a ver menacing manner,
railina down hitter imprecations on er own head if she
would’n't have her rights.

Every now and then between the bursts of the storm
Andy would exclaini, “ Get out! “

“My lord," said Dick, “ remember your dignity.“

“ Av coorsel “ said Andv; “ but stil she must get out!"

The house was at last c cared of the uproarlous party;
but though And got rid of their presence, they left their
sting be ind. herd Scatter-brain felt, for the first time,
that a lord can be very unhappy.

Dick hurried him away at once to the chambers of the
law agent, but he, being closeted on some very important
business with another client on their arrival, returned an
answer to their application for aconference, which they
forwarded through the double doors of this sanctum by a
harddooking man with a pen behind his ear, that he could
not have the pleasure of seeing them till the next morn-
ing. Lord Scatterbraiii assed a more unhappy night
than he had ever done in is life—even than that when he
was tied up to the old tree—crosked at by mums, and the
lespise-d of rats.

l heaotiations were opened the next day between the
petti ogger on Bridget s side and the law agent of the
noble lord, and the arguments, pro and can, lay thus:

In the first place, the o ening declaration was-Lord
Scatter‘hraiii never won (1 live with the aforesaid

Answered—that nevertheless, as she was his lawful
wife, a provision suitable to her rank must be made.

They (the claimants) were asked to name a sum.

The sum was considered exhorbitant; it being argued
that when her husband had determined never to ive with
her, he was in a far different condition, therefore it was
unfair to seek so large a separate maintenance now.

The petting er hreatened that Lady Scatterbrain
would run in ebt, which Lord Scatterbraln must dis-
charge. My Lord‘s agent su gested that m Lady would
be advertised in the pub ic papers, an the public
cautioned inst ‘ving her credit.

A sum co d not e agreed upon, though a fair one was
oflered on Andy‘s part; for the greediness of the pettifog-
'er, who wasto have a share of the plunder, made him

old out for more, and negotiations were broken oil for
some digs. .

Poor dy was in a Wretched state of vexation. It was
bad enou h that he was married to this abominable
woman, w thout an additional lague of being persecuted
by her. To such an amount th s rose at last, that she and
her big brother dodged him every time he left the house,
so that in self defenca he was obliged to become a clo.~e

risoner in his own lodgings. All this at last became so
intolerable to the captive, that be urged a speedy settle-
ment of the vexatiousegnestion, and a larger separate
maintenance was grant to the detestable woman than
would otherwise have been ceded, the only stipulation of
a strin ent nature made being, that Lord Scattcrbrain
should e free from the persecutions of his hateful wife
for the future.

_—

CHAPTER XLIX.

S uire E an with his lady and Fanny Dawson, had now
srricvied in ndon; Murtough Murphy, too, had joined
them, his services being requisite in working the petition
against the return of the sitting member for 'e county_

‘This had so much promise of success abou ii, that the
opposite arty, who had the sheriff for the county in their
interest, ethonght of a novel expedient to frustrate the
petition when a reference to the oil was required.

They declared the principal po -book was lost.

This seemed not very satisfactory to dye side of the
committee, and the question was asked. how could it
be lost?" The answer was one which Irish contrivance
alone could have invented: “ Ii'fdl into a pot beroth, and
the dog ate it."

This protracted the contest for some time; but event.
'nally. in spite of the dog’s devouring knowled a so eed-
ily, the S uire was declared duly elected an t00' the
oaths and is seat for the county.

It was hard on Sackville Scatterbrain to lose his seat in

the house and a pee e nearl at once' but the
latter loss threw tn?g ormery so far ' into, the
shade, that he scarcel felt it. Beliidcs,

th havin buttered his
-mark§t; and with I
drudgery to private re-

he could console himself

b tt well in the m
fimwlie‘f‘fetiea from senator!

'If not this identical answer, someth like it was

 

' I
‘ Eek was absent, and Andy rocking on a chair before the
c twirling the massive old chain of his gold watch round p

er.
But while the Squire‘s happyl family circle was re-
joicing in his triumph—while e was invited to the
Speaker‘s dinners, and the ladies were looking forward
to tickets for “ the lantern," their (pleasure was sudden-
ly dashed by fatal news from Irelau .

A serious accident had befallen Major Dawson—so

return to Ireland by all who were interested in his life
was the consequence.

Thou h the suddenness of this painful event shocked
his fami y. the act which caused it did not surprise them;
for it was one against which Major Dawson had been re-

catedly cautioned, involving a danger he had been af-
ectionately requested not to tempt; but the habitual
obstinacy of his nature prevailed and he persisted in
doing that which his son—and his anghters—and friends
—prophesied would kill him some time or other, and did.
at last. The Major had three little iron guns, mounted
on carriages, on a terrace in front of his house; and it
was his wont to fire a salute on certain festival days
from these guns, which, from age and exposure to the
weather, became dangerous to use. It was in vain that
this danger was represented to him. He would reply
with his accustomed “Poohl poohl I have been flring
these guns for forty years, and they won‘t do me any
harm now."

This was the prime fault of,the Major’s character.
Time and circumstances were never taken into account
by him; what was done once, might be done always——
ought to be done always. The bare thought of change of
any sort, to him, was unbearable; and whether it was a
rotten old law or a rotten old gun, he would charge both
up to the muzzle and fire away, regardless of con-
sequences. The result was, that on a certain festival his
favorite n burst in discharging; and the last mortal
act of wh ch the Major was conscious, was that of puttin
the port-fire to the touchhole, for a heavy splinter 0
iron struck him on the head, and thou h he lived for
some days afterwards, he was insensib e. Before his
children arrived he was no more; and the only duty left
gem 3) perform was the melancholy one of ordering his

ner . .

The obsequies of the old Major were honored by it
large and distinguished attendance from all parts of the
countr ; and amongst those who bore the pail was Ed-
ward Oy'Connor, who had the melancholyigratiiicaiion of
testifyino his respect beside the anny‘s father,
though the severe old man had
presence durin his lifetime.

But now all 0 stacle to the union of Edward and Fungi
was removed; and after the lapse of a few days h
softened the bitter grief which this sudden bereavement
of her father had produced, Edward received a note from
Dick, inviting him to the manor-house, where all would
be glad to see him.

In a few minutes after the receipt of that note Edward
was in his saddle, and swiftly leaving the miles behind
him till from the top of a risin ground, the roof of the
manor-houses cared above t e trees lnwhich it was
cmbosomed. e had not till then slackened his speed;
but now drawing rein, he proceeded at a slower space
towards the house he had not entered for some years,
and the sight of which awakened such varied emotions.

To return after long ears of painful absence to some
place which has been t e scene of our former joys, and
whence the force of circumstances, and not chmce, has
driven us, is oppressive to the heart. There is a mixed
sense of regret and re‘oicing, which strug is for pre-
dominance; we rejoics t at our term of exile as expired
but were rat the years which that exile has deducted
from the rief amount of human life, never to be re-
called, and therefore as so much lost to us. We think of
the wrong or the caprlce of which we have been the vic-
tims, and thou his will stray across the most conflding
hearts, if frien s shall meet as fondl as they parted; or
if time, while impressing dee r ma s upon the outward
form, may have obliterate some impressions within.
Who has returned after years of absence. however as—
sured of the unflinching fidelity of the love he left be-
hind, without sayin to himself, in the pardonable yearn-
ing of afiection, “ I meet smiles as bri ht as those
that used to welcome me? Shall I be ress as fondly
with the arms whose encompassmen were to me the
pale of all earthly enjoymentsl '

Such thou rhts crowded on Edward as he approached
the house. here was not a lane, or tree, or hedge b
the way, that had not for him its association. He reac e
the avenue gate; as he flung it open be remembered the
last time he passed it; Fanny had then leaned on his arm.
He felt himself so much excited, that, instead of riding
up to the house, he took the private path to the stables
and, throwin down the reins to a boy, he turni-
into a shrubfiery and endeavored to recover his self.
command before he should present himself. As he
emerged from the sheltered path and turned into a walk
which led to the garden, a small conservatory was
opened to his view, awaking fresh sensations. It was in
that very lace he had first ventured to declare his love to
Fanny. here she heard and frowned not; there, where
nature’s choicest sweets were exhalin , he had first
pressed her to his heart, and thou ht t a. balmy sweet.
ness of her lips beyond them all. e humed forward in
the enthusiasm the recollection recalled, to enter that
spot consecrated in his memory“ out on arriving at the
door, he suddenly stopped. for lie SIW Faun within.
She was plucking a geranium—the flower she ad been
\lucking some ears efore, when Edward said he loved
her. She all tiviat morning, had been under the influence
of feelings similar to Edward‘s; had felt the same yearn.
ings—the same tender doubts-the same fond solicitude
that he should be the some Edward from whom she part-
ed. Bnt she thought of more than this; with the exqujg.
itely delicate contrivance belongin to woman snatnre,
she wished to ’ve him a signal of er fond recollection,
and was pluck ng the flower she gathered when be de-
clared his love to lace on her bosom when they should
meet. Edward fe t the meaning of her action, as the
aceful hand broke the flower from its stem. He would
ave rushed towards her at once, but that the dee
monming in which she was arrayed seemed to comman
agentler approach; for ief commands res t. He ad-
vanced softly—she bear a entle step behin hes—turned
—-uttered a faint exclama on of joy. “Id in”
arms! In a few moments she recovered her common
ness, and opening her sweet eyes upon hha’hresthsd
"fl-1 . “dear Edwardl"—snd, the lips whi in two
wo I, had tossed so much, Were Impressed with a
fervent kils fifths blessed consciousness of possession on
that very spot where the first timid and doubting word of
love he been spoken.

In that moment he was rewarded for all his years of ab.

ave o
anished him from his

 

on on a dissuted Irish election, listen s minim of
g Buss of 0mm - .

sass and anxiety. heart was unmet lisfclths

serious, that his life was despaired of; and an immediate ‘

his stroveto rsuadedetty wasd .

pose, which was much more congenial to his easy tam. ‘ was dear as ever to the woman he idolissd', and the short

and hurried beating of both their hearts old more than
‘_ words could express. Wordsl—whst were words to
them ?-thought was too swift for their use. and fesli
, too strong for their utterance; but they drank from
’ other‘s eyes large droughts of delight, and, in the silent
pressure of each other s welcoming embrace, felt how
: truly they loved each other.
‘ He led her gentl from the conservatory, and they ex-
: changed words of ection “soft and low, ‘as the saun-
1 tered through the wooded ath which surroun ed the
, house. That live-long day ey wandered up and down
: tonether, repeating again and again the anxious eamin
V w ich occupied their years of separation, yet asking and“
other was not all more than repaid by the gladness of the
presen .

‘get how painful has been the past!" exclaimed Ed-
wa .

“ But now !“ said Fanny, with a gentle pressure of her
tiny hand on Edward‘s arm, and looking up to him with
her bright eyes—“ but now!“

“ True, darlingl" he cried; “ ‘tis un ateful to think of
the past while enjogng such a presen and with such a
future before me. less that cheerful heart and thos-
hope-inspiring flames! 0h, Fanny! in the wilderness of
life there are sp rigs and palmtrees—yon are both to ml
and heaven has set ts own mark upon you in those laugh
ing blue eyes which might set des air at defiance.“

‘ Poetical asever, Edward!" sai Fanny, laughing.

“ Sit down, dearest, for a moment, on this 0 d tiee, be.
side me; ‘tis not the first time I have strung rhymes in
your presence and your praise." He took I small noto-

ook from his pocket and Fanny looked on smil Lugly ss
Edward's penc l rfliidl ran over the leaf and traced the
lover's tribute to s in stress.

TEE SUNSHINE IN YOU.
I.

 

“ Itis sweet when we look round the wide world" wads
To know that the desert bestows
The palms where the weary heart may rest,
The spring that in purity flows.
nd where have I found
In this wilderness round
That spring and that shelter so true;
Unfaillng in need,
And my own, indeed?—
Ohl dearest, I‘ve found it in you!

11

“ And, oh when the cloud of some darkening hour
O'er shadows the soul with its gloom,
Then where is the li ht of the vestal pow‘r,
The lamp of ale 0 to illume?
Oh the lig t ever lies
In those bright fond eyes,

Where Heaven has impress‘d its own blue
As a seal from the skies
As my heart relies

On that gift of its sunshine in you!“

Faun liked the lines of course. "Dearest," she,
“ ma always prove sunshine to on! Is it not a
coinc dencet at these lines one flts little air whi
occurred to me some time a of"

“ 'Tis odd," said Edward; “ sin to me, darling."

Fanny took the verses from his and and sung them ts
her own measure. Oh, happy triump of the poetl—to
hear his verses wedded to sweet sounds, and warbled b
the woman he lovesl Edward caught up the strain, 
ding his voice to hers in harmony and t us they saunter
ed omeward, trolling their ready-made duet together.
I‘here were not two happier hearts in the world that day
than those of Fanny Dawson and Edward O‘Connor.

 

CHAPTER L.

Respect for the memory of Major Dawson of course
prevented the immediate marriage of Edward and Fanny,
ut .the winter months gassed cheerfully aw sy in looking
forward to the follow autumn which should witnnss
the completion of their appiness. Though Edward was
thus tempted by the society of the one he loved best in the
world, it did not make him neglect the duties he had un-
dertaken in behalf of Gustavus. Not only did he prose
onto his reading with him regularly, but he took no small
pains in looking after the involved aflairs of the family,
and strove to make satisfactory arrangements with those
whose claims were wing away the estate to nothin .
Though the years of usty‘s minority were but few, at ‘
the would ive the estate some breathing time- and
cre itors, see rig the minor backed b a man of charhc ,
and convinced s sincere desire ex sted to relieve the
estate of its encumbrances and pay all just claims, pm.
sented a less threatening front than hitherto. and listened
readily to such terms of accommodation as were proposed
to them. Uncle Robert (for the breaking of whose neck
Ratty’s pious aspirations had been raised) behaved very
well on be occasion. A loan from him, and a a].
of some of the acres, stop the mouths of e greedy
wolves who fatten on men s ruin, and time and economy
were looked forward to for the dischar of all other debts.
Uncle Robert, having so far acted 9 friend, was con.
sidered entitled to have a partial voice in the ordering of
things at the Hall; and having a. notion that an En ist.
accent was genteel, he desired that Gusty and fistty
should pass a year under the roof of s clergyman in Eng-
land, w a received a limited number of young gentlemen
for the com lotion of their education. Gustavus would
much rather ve remained near Edward O’Connor, who
had already done so much for him; but Edward, the h
he re etted parting with Gustavus, recommended bingo
e to his uncle‘s wishes, thou h he did notsee tbs
necesgity of any Irish gentleman sshsmsd of his
accen .

The visit to]: land, however was s nod till tbs
spring, and the finter months wiirs usgd hpoeustsvu iii
smite “that: "a? rs: at“: “m. "is" m

ce pu g t is es, p s rompt,
155111231 to present himselfi creditsny to the h cler

ltwasinvainto lead such pride to Butt whopsid
more attention to eating than his lessons. I mother
esf His "gran" strove
to bribe— tty was incorru tibia. Gusty argued—Batty
answered after his own f on.

“ Why won‘t you learn even s little?”

“I'mtogotothst‘lnglish fellow'h um
aha“ Mve‘mfmthemlol'mmsking mun,

me now. .

“Doyoucsllitgood use. tobe so dreadfullth ad

 

shamefully ignorant?
"Brothel—thout numb. m when t.

 

 

J:
a

7.. H... .

Handy Andy.

 

53

 

will have to teach me, and Uncle Bob will have more

1th for his money; " and when Ratty would whistle a
' ling a fowling-piece over his shoulder, and shout
350mm Pontol Pontol “ as he traversed the stable-yard;
the delighted pointer would come bounding at the call,
and, after circling round his young master with agile
grace and yelps of glee at the sight of the- gun, dash for-
ward to the well-known "bottoms" in eager expectancy
0! ducks and sni c.

How fared it al this time with the Lord of Scatterbraln?
no be mine established, for the present, in a honsc that
had been a longtime to let in the neighborhood, and
his mother was placed at the head of it, and Oonah still
remained under his rotection, thouwh the daily sight
0f the lrl added to ndy‘s grief at the dos crate plight
in win ch his ill-starred marriage placed im, to say
nothing of the constant annoyance of his mother s
growlin at him for his making “such a Judy of him-
Ielfl" or the dowager Lady Scatterbrsin coul not get
rid of her vocabulary at once. Andys onl
finder these circumstances was to mount his

y.
As for the dowa er Lad Scatterbraln, she had a car-
"Me with “apietufis” onyit, as she called the coat of
ems and was fond of driving past the houses of people
Who ad been unclvil to her. Against Mrs. Casey (.he
renowned Matty Dwyer) she entertained an especial
' Spite, in consideration of her treatment of her beautiful
boy and her own air of black eyes; so she determined
to “pay her at! " 11 her own way, and stopping one day
at the hole in the hedge which served for entrance to the
estate of the ” three-cornered tleld “ she sent the footman
I“ to NY the douzier Lady Scatterhreen wanted to speak
with “Casey's wife.“ .
When the servant, accordin to instmctions, delivered
ihil message, he was sent bac with the answer, “that if
“1);! lady wanted to see Casey‘s wife, ‘Casey's wife,‘ was
It ome."

“0h. go back, and tell the poor woman I don‘t want to
bfin her to the door of my carriage, if it‘s inconvaynient.
I ODFy wished to give her a little help: and tell her if she
sends up eg 5 to the big house, Lady Soatterbreen will
N her for grain."

hen the servant delivered this messagg, Matty grew
outra eons at the means “ my lady " too of crowing
0'81 er, and rushing to the door with her face flushe
with rage, roared out, “ Tell the old bag age I want none
0' her custom; let her lag e s for horse f. l

The servant stn cared c in amaze; and Matt , lfee1 -
his he would not eliver her message, ran to the o e n
the hedge and repeated her answer to my lad herself,
with a great deal more which need not be reco ed. Suf-
Ilce it to say, in lady thought it necessary to pull ii the
11838, against w ich Matty threw a hand ul 0 mu ' the
servant jumped u on his perch behind the car ageé
which was ra idly riven awa b the coachnian, but no
'0 fast that )Eatty could not, y int of running, keep it.
" within range ” for some seconds, during which time she
mntrived to pelt both coachman and footinan with mud,
“Id leave her mark on their new livery. '1 his was a coin

warning to the old woman, who was more cautious in
he! demonstrations of andeur for the future. If s‘he
WI! stinted in the enjoyment of her new-born digg‘ty
nblond. she could indul o it at home without let or n-

I‘Ince, and to this en asked Andy to let her havel a
lilludred pounds, in one-pound notes, for a particu ar
Dufnose. What this purpose was no one was told gr
could uess, but for a good while after she used to e
do” by herself for several hours during the day.

Andy had his hours of retirement also, for with raise-
‘Vorthy industry he strove bard, poor fellow, tol t bina-
Ielf above the state of ignorance, and had daily atten ;
Once from the arish schoolmaster. The mysteries o
"Pothooks and an rs " and A B C weighed heavin on
the nobleman‘s min , which must have sunk under }the
b“mien of scholarship and pennianship, but fpr the ot er
“ Ihi “—the horsemanflhip—Whlch was Andy s daily self-
"in ished reward for his perseverance in his lessons.
Besides he really could ride; and as it was the only afoot:-
Plllhment of which he was master, it was no wonh e1;i ide
9“ oyed the dis lay of it; and, to say the truth, e (1
"Id that on a rst-rate horse too. Having appomte
Mnrtough Murphy his law- at, he often rode over to
“10 town to talk with him, an as Murtough could have
lome fun and thirteen and fourpence also 'per visit, he
was always glad to see his “ noble friend. The high
fold did not suit Andy‘s notion of things; he preferred
the variety, shortness, and diversion of go n across the
Will! on these occasions; and in one of ese excur-
‘Onl n the most secluded portion of his ride, which an-
“Otd'abl lay through some quarries and doe broken
Pound he met “ Ragged Nance “ who held up or finger
‘I he approached the orge of this lonel de l, in token
“is! she would speak th him. Andy u led up.

“Long unto you, my lord," said- auce, droppin a
'1” curtsey “ and sure I alwn s liked you since e
his t you wa’s so bowld for the as e of the poor Fri—the
"‘13 lady I mane, now God bless her—and I ust wish
'0 tel ou,'my lord, that i think you might as well not: be

1113 t ese lonely wa s, forI see them has ng about: clarfi

lines, that maybe t would not be god or your uea tll

meet‘ and sure, my lord, itwould ahardcage 1 od
rum killed now, havin‘ til: illilck of the stick calf t at ve
r and died t e summer. "

nfl}:  big bisckguard, SM» Mon, you mane!

d

Andy. A b.
“No less " said Nance—growing deadly ale as s
' 1 into the deli and cried low, hur-
mi loggipidiflieme divil—and there he is—l see him
out from behind a rock."

resource
orse and

\ " e‘s running this way," said Andy.

" n the other way," said Nance' " look
unfitelifm': strive to hide a blunderbus urlder his
“Kt—Gallop oil, for the love 0' God! or therell be
mm d "

r.
" h so will he that same," said And “ if I
leavlaflayg?i:orz, and he suspects you to gave me be hard
Word I .
“ 'ever dine,“ said Nance “save yourself—soc
asiovingifist, he'll be near ehough to you soon td
‘9

“.Get upbehind Inc,“ said Andy; “I won’t leave you
my!

3?“, { tall you."

“Gabi; you. then,“ said the woman, as Andy held
~ his hand and gripped hers firmly. ,

" Put your foot on mine " said Andy. d

The woman obeyed, was soon seated behi'fiiedfir
r”. ppin him fast by the waist, while he pu s

sum. imaf "mm?" said Andy. “ for new. a stiff

' “landward” inoiiess cautim.

 

v- .s..._.-_.;.~ .- -. _-._...__Ms,n . A- ..

jump here." As he approached the ditch of which he
spoke, two men rang up from it, and one fired, as
Andy cleared the sup n good style, Nance holding on
gallantly. The horse was not many strokes on the
opposite side, when another shot was fired in their
rear, followed by a scream from the woman. To
Andy's inquiry, if she was “ kill,“ uho replied
in the negative, but said “ they hurt her sore,“
and she was “ bleeding a power;“ but that she
could still hold on, however, iind urged him to speed.
The clearance of one or two more leaps gave her grievous
pain: but. a large common soon opened before them,
which was skirted by a road leading directly to a farm-
house, where Andy eft the wounded woman, and then
galloped 08 for medical aid; this soon arrived, and the
wound was found not to be danoerous, though painful.
The bullet had struck and picrcct a tin vessel of a bottle
form, in which Nance carried the liquid ratuiiies of the
charitable, and this not only deadencd e force of the
ball, but glanced it also; and the i-sca cment of the but-
ter-milk, which the vessel contained, anco had mistaken
for the cifusion of her own blood. It was a clear case,
however, that if Nanco had not been sittinv behind Andy,
Lord Scatmrbrain would have been a den man, so that
his gratitude and gallantry towards the poor beggar wo-
man proved the means of preserving his own life.

 

CHAPTER LI.

The news of the attack on Lord Scatterbrain ran over
the country like wildfire, and his conduct throu hout the
aflair raised his character wonderqu in the opiu on of all
classes. Many who had hitherto eld aloof from the
mushroom lord, came forward to recognise the manly
fellow, and cards were left at “ the big house,"th
were never seen there before. The ma ristrates were
active in the affair, and a reward was imme iatel offered
for the apprehension of the offenders; but be ore any
active steps could be taken b the authorities, Andy im-
mediately after the attack, co lected a few stout fel ows
himself, and knowin where the den of Shari and his
miscreants lay, he se of! at the head of his party to t if
he could not secure them himself; but before he did t is,
he despatcbed a vehicle to the farm-house where poor
Nance lay wounded, with orders that she s ould be re—
moved to his own house. the doctor having said that the
transit would not be injurious.

A short time served to bring Andy and his followers to
the private still, where a little looking about enabled
them todiscover the entrance, which was covered by some
large stones, and a bunch of furze placed as a mask to
the opening. It was clear that it was impossible for
any persons inside to have thus covered the en-
trance. Ind it suggested the possibility that some of its
usual inmates were then absent. Nevertheless, having
such desperate characters to deal with it was a service of
danger to be leader in the descent to the cavern when the
openin was cleared; but Andy was the first to enter,
which e did boldly, only desiring his attendants to follow
him quickly, and give him support in case of resistance.
A lantern had been provided, Andy knowing the darkness
of the den; and the party was thereby enabded to explore
with celerit ' and certainty the hidden haunt of the dos-
peradoes. he ashes of the fire were yet warm, but no
one was to be seen, till And , drawin the screen of the
bed, discovered a man lying ii a seem n ly hel less state
breathing With difficult , and the straw a out in dabbled
with blood. 0n sttcmp in tollft him, the wretchgroancd
heavil and muttered, “ —n you, let me alone-you’ve
done or me—I‘m dying.“

The man was gently carried from the cave to the open
air, which seemed slightly to revive him. His eyes
0 ned heavily, but closed s sin; yet still he breathed.

is wounds were staunche as well as the limited
means and knowledge of the parties present allowed-
and the ladder, drawn up Rom the cave and overlaid
with tufts of heather, served to bear the sufferer to the
nearest house, whence And ordered a mounted messen-
get to ban for a doctor. he man seemed to hear what
was going orward, for he faintly muttered, " the priest—
the rice ."

Ad’d , mixious to procure this most essential comfort to
the dylng man, went himself in search of Father Blake,
whom he found at home, and who su gested that a ma .-
trata mi ht be also useful upon t e occasion; an as
Merryv a lay not much out of the we ,Andy made a
detour to obtain the dpresence of Squ re E an, while
Father Blake pushed rectly onward upon h s ghostly

as on.
miAn‘d and the Squire arrived soon after the priest had
admin tered spiritual comfort to the caterer, who still
retained sufficient strength to make his depositions before
the Squire, the purport 05 which turned out to be of the
utmostim ortaucetoAu y.

This mail, it appeared, was the husband Bridget, who

had returned from trans ortation, and song t his wife and bed

her dear brother and h s former lawless associates, on
reaching Ireland: On finding Bridget had married again
his anger at her infidelity was endeavored to be up Page
by the representations made to him that it was a good
job " inasmuch as “the lord" had been screwed out of a
0d sum of money b wa of separate maintainance, and
53” he would share the advantage of that. When matters
were more explained, however, and the convict round
this money was divided amon so many, who all claimed
right of share in the plunder, is discontent returned, In
the first place, the pettifogner made a lar e haul for his
services. Shan More swore t was hard or a woman‘s
own brother was not to be the better for her luck; and
Larry Logan claimed hush-money, for he could prove
Bfldvet‘s marriage, and so u set their scheme of plunder.
The zconvict maintained is claim as husband was
stronger than any; but this, all the others declared, was
an outlandish notion he bro ht back with him from for-
eign parts and did not prev in their code of laws by
airy manner o’means, and even went so far as to‘sitty they
thouoht it hard, after they had ‘ done the ob, int he
was f‘o come in and lessen their proflthwhlc the Would,
as the were willing to ve an even {are of the s 01];
and er thatf he must e the m0“ dimntelffld Vi lion
as not .
in’ltlll: vhghlgitt hle'giled cgntentment, but meditated at
once reven a ainst his wife and theglng, and separate
roilt for h mse f. He the he might stipulate to, .
pood round sum from L0 Scatterbraiiili.I as he could
grove him free of his supposed matl‘hnon engagement,
and inwardly resolved he would soon Ply I visit to his
lordshi . But his intentions were sus , ted hi the gum.
and a sfrict watch kept upon him: an though is dissim.

are of no inferior order,
elation and contrlvanm w. and the convict was dam

a
E°§n3iil§$§ll 33%: Lord Scatterbrain‘s dwelling, that m

a
, irsecret, if not reveal was no
33d°$°§ofimm their Wenonah“;

-———._-AJ.‘,. .

 

and it was deemed advisable to knock him on the ha i,
and shoot my lord, which they thought would prevent .ol
chance of the invalidity of the marriage elng d v
covered, and secure the future payment at the maiu-
tcnunce.

How romptly the murderous determination was not xi
“point e precedin events rovc. Andy's cmiruguin il a
first part of the a air save his life; his 'pl‘ulllilliir-w .l
afterwards seokinglto secure the offenders lt'vl in lln- ‘u-u
gortarit discove e had just made: and as iiu~ t'tilfl'lr‘lW

epositions con (i be satisfactorily backed by [inn-Ts
which he showed the means of obtaining, Andy \\ us mo
gratulated heartin by the S nire ml Firth >r li‘ii' e,-- ml l'mlu

who in almost delirious (le lghtutilie iiospm-i oi making
Oonah his wife. 0n reachin" the stu lea, be How him
self from his saddle, let the orse make his om- uuy l »
his stall, dashed through the back hull, and hourly home
his neck in tumbling upstairs, burst open the dim II“:-
room door, and made a rush upon Oonah, \vllum ho
hugged and kissed most outrageously, admist exclama-
tions of the wildest aflection.

Oonah, half strangled and struggling for breath, at his!
freed herself from is embraces, and asked him, angrily.
what he was about—4n which inquiry she was backed by
his mother.

Andy answered by capering round the room shouting.
“Hurroo i I‘m not married at all-hurroo!“ hi‘ iurnml
over the chairs, uglset the tables, threw the inuiiiclpii re
ornaments into t c fire, seized the poker and tongs. and
banged them together as he continued dancing and about-

in . .

sonah and his mother stood gazing at his antics in
trembling amazement, till at last the old woman m-
clalmod, ‘Holy Vargini he‘s gone mad!“ whereupon. uht
and her niece set up a violent screaming. Wlll’il called
Andy back to his proprii-tiy. and, as well as his ucxto.
meut would )crmit, he tol them the cause of his 0; trnr—
agant joy. is wonder and delight were shared by his
mother and the blushing Oonah, who did not strugnc so
hard in Andy‘s embrace on hismaklng a second vchei lent
demonstration of his love for her.

“ Let me send for Father Blake, my jewel," said AL dy,
“ and I‘ll marry you at once."

Ills mother reminded him he must first have his
present marria proved invalid. And uttered several
pieces of art no! eloquence on “ t e law‘s delay.“
‘Well, anyhow,“ said he, “(‘11 drink your health, my
darling girl, this day as Lady Scatterbrain—for you
mustconsider yourse f as sitch. ‘

“Behave yourself, in lord," said Oonah, urchly.

“Bother! ‘ cried An y, snatching another kiss.

“ Hilloi“ cried Dick Dawson, entering at the moment.
and seeing the romping-match. “You‘re 'loslng or.
time, I see, Andy.“

Oonah was runnin from the room, lau hing and
blushing when Dick nterposed, and cried, ' Ah, don‘t
go ‘ my lady,‘ that is to be.‘

bonah slapped down the hand that barred her progress,
exclaimin , “You‘re just as bad as he is, Mister Daw-
son!" an ran away.

Dick bedridden over, on hearing the news, to con
7riitiilatc Andy, and consented to remain and dine wiih
iim. Oonah had rather, after what had taken place, he
had not been there, for Dick backed Andy in his torment-
ing the rl, and ‘oined heurtil in drinking to Anilv‘
toast, wh ch, nccor ing to prom so, he gave to the haul"
of the future Lady Scattei brain. .

It was impossible to repress Andy‘s wild delight; iinu
in the excitement of the hour he tossed off bumper al‘tm
bumper to all sorts of love»making|toasts,',tlll he was iiiie
overcome by his potutions. and tfor no place but ed.
To this last retreat of “the glorious “ he was re ucsiun
to retire, and, after much coaxing, consented. i c stun»
cred over to thc Window-curtain, which he mistook for

at of the bed ' in vain they wanted to lead him clan-
where—he would sleep in no other bed but that~and
backingi out at the window- ane, he made a smash, c
which e seemed sensible, or he said it wasn‘t a fair
trick to put ins iu the bed. “ I know it. was Oonah did
tliutl—hipi—ial hai Lady Scatterbrniul—never mind:
—hipl —i ll have my revenge on you yctl“

Th? could not get him iip-stalrs, so his mother so -
gcste he should sleep in her room, which was on t 6
same floor, for that night, and at last he was got into the
apartment. There he was assisted l0 disrobe, as he stood
swaying about at a dressing-table. Chancln to lay his
hands on a pill-box, he mistook it for his Whtifii.

“ Stop-stop!“ he stammered forth—“ I must wind my
wstc ;“ and sniiin the action to the word, he began
twistiu about the pi -box, the lid of which came 03 and
tho pil s fell about the floor. “0h, murder i" said Lord
Scatterbrain “the works of my watch are fallin‘ about
the flare—pick them up—pick them up—pick them up
—-—-“ He could speak no more, and becoming nits in-
capable of volumes action, was undressed an put to

, the last soun which escaped him being a faint
muttering—pick them up.“

 

CHAPTER THE LAST.

T“ d5! following the eventful one just recorded, the
miserable convict breathed his last: A printed notice
was osted in all the ad scent villages, oflering a reward
for t 0 ap rehenslon o Shari More and "other persons
unknown,' for their murderous assault; and a small re.
ward was promised for such “private information as
might lead to the apprehension of the aforesaid,“ to.
&c. Larry Ho at once came forward and put the
authorities on e scent, but still riliau and his accomp-
lices remained undiscovered. Larry’s information on
a"other subject, howevar, was more eflective. lie gave
his own testimony to the previous marriage of Bridget,
and pointed out the means of obtaining more, so that, are
long. Lord Scatterbrain was a “free man.“ Tlfou rh the
depositions of the murdered man did not directly ni li-
cate in the murderous attack, still it showed t at
he had participated in much of their villiany; but, as in
difficult we must put up with bad instruments to
reach the “a. of justice, so this rascal was useful for
himvidenee and private information, and got his re

w .
But he gpt his reward in more ways than one. He
knew that e dare not ion er remain inxthe country after
what had taken place, on set oi! directly for Dublin b5
the mail, inteu to proceed to England; but Raglan
he never reach . As he was roceed down the
Custom-house quay in the dusk o the eve , to gen
my «1 him it mdgtdlngrumddeniii ' “in no“
I w e swornan in
ms hedgerow“ across .u

hm“. nub outh,and Modal;

M's-rpm rauseckedhispockets-mtgny 003%
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beta «newline-m. Lorry hide“? “ u I

 

“tan:

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was, "L-g-r— tyne—v— ‘ ~r--~-

54:

The New York Library.

 

 

 

cloth. To pluck this from his throat, many a
' ncrce wrench was [made by the woman, when
her attempts on the pockets proved worthless; but the
handkerchief was knotted so tirhtly that she could not
disengage it. The approach 0 some passengers along
the quay alarmed the assailants of Larry, who, ere the
iron grip released him, heard a deep curse in his ear
growled by a voice be well knew, and then he felt him-
self hurled with gigantic force from the quay wall.
Before the base, cheating, faithless scoundrel could make
one exclamation, he was plunged into the Liffcymeven
before one mental aspiraiion for mercy, he was in the
throes of suflociltionl The heavy splash in the water
caught the attention of those whose a proiich had alarmed
the murderers, and seeing a man an woman running, a
pursuit commenced, which ended by Newgate having two
ticsli tenants the next day.
And so farewell to the entire of the abominable crew,
whose evil doings and merited fates have only been
recorded when it became necessary to our story. it is
better to leave the debased and the profiigate' in oblivion
than drug their doings before the day! an it is With ha -
pv consciousness an Irishman may assert, that there-is
)lcnty of subject afforded by Irish character and Irish life
ionorable to the land, pleasmg to the narrator, and suffi-
ciently attractive to the reader without the unwholesome
exaggerations of crime whic too often disflWure the
fictions which pass under the title of ” Irish,” 31 {e oflen'
sive to truth as to taste—alike injurious both for private
and public considerations.

 

It was in the following autumn that a particular
chariot drove up to the door of the Victoria Hotel, on the
shore of Killamey lake. A young man of elegantbcarinv
handed a very charming young lady from the chariot; an
that kindest and most accommodating of hostesses, Mrs.
, welcomed the fresh arrival with her good-humored
and smiling face. . _

Why, amidst the crowd of arrivals at the Victoria, one
chariot should be remarkable beyond another, arose from
its quiet elegance, which mi ht strike even a casual ob
server; but the intelli cut it rs. F saw with half an
eye the owners must e hi h-bred people. To the apart-
ments already engaged for t em they were shown; but few
minutes were lost within doors where such matchless
natural beauty tempted them without. ‘A boat was imme-
diately ordered, and then the newly arrived Visitors were
soon on the lake. The boatmeu had already worked hard
that day, having pulled one party completely round the
lakes —no triflin task; but the hardy fellows again bent
to their cars. and made the sleeping waters wake in old-
;n (iiiashes to the sunset, till told they need not pu so

ar .

“ Faith, then, we’ll plaulyou, sir “ said the stroke-oars-
glau,"with a grin, “ for we ave had quite enough of it to-

31y

“ Do you not think, Fanny," said Edward O’Connor,
for it was he who spoke to his bride, “Do you not think
‘tis more in unison with the trau uil hour and the coming

~shadows, to glide softly over the ulled waters?”

" Yes,“ she replied, “ it seems almost sacrilege to dis-
-urb this heavenly repose b the slightest dip offlthe oar—
ice how perfectly that love y island is reflected.

“ That is Innisfallin, my lady," said the boatman, hear.
lug her allude to the island, “ where the hermimge is.”
As he spoke a gleam of light sparkled on the island, which
was reflects on the water. _ n

“ One mi ht think the hermit was there,_ too, said
Faun “ an% had just li hted a lamp for his vmla."

“T at‘s the li ht oft e lde that shows tile place to
the quality, my ady, and was on. the island always in a
comer of the ould ruin. And, indeed, if you‘d like to see
the island this evening, there‘s time enough, and ‘twould
be so much saved out of to-momow.”

The boatman’s advice was acted u on, and as they
zlided towards the island, Fanny and dward . azed de-
lightedly on the towering summits of Magi icuddy‘s
reeks. whose spiral pinnsc es and graceful dec ivities told
out sharp}?i against the golden sky behind them, which
being pe ect y reflected n the calm lake, gave a grand
chain of mountain the appearance of beiii suspended in
glowing heather, for the ake was one brig t amber‘sheet
of ii ht below, and the mountains one massive barrier of
sh e, till they out against the liaht above. The boat
touched the shore of Innisfallin. and the delighted pair of
visitants hurried to its western pomt to catch the sunset,
ll hting with its o'lory the matchless foliage of this en-
c anting spot. w ere every form of race exhaustless
nature can displa is lavished on the ar orial richness of
the scene, which, its unequalled luxunauce gives to a
fanciful beholder the idea that the trees themselves have a
mama“ I 111.6%? in growing there. Oh! what a Witching
s t unis u

l)loidward hail never seen aiaything so beautiful in his life;
and with the woman he a cred resting on his arm, he
noted the lines which Moore has a. plied to the Vale of

ashmere, as he asked Fanny woul she not like to live
there.

“ Would you? said Fanny.

31de answered—

“ woman can’make the Wont wilderness dear,
IfThink—think what I heaven she must make of
Cashmere."

11 red on the islandtill_the moon arose, and
ligl'iheiye-gmgbearksd. The silver _ l ht exhibited the lake
under another aspect, and the lmly discovered form ’ of
the lofty hills rose one above another, tier upon me;-
circling the waters in their shadowy frame, the beauty of
ihe scene reacheda int of sublumty which might'ba
called holy. As t ey returned towards the shelving
strand, along row oédpeeled branches, standing upngm
in the wbter, attract ‘ Fanny’s attention, and she asked
their use.

“ All the use in life, in lady," said the boatmau, “ for
without the same brmcges, maybe it‘s not home to-iiight
you‘d et.” _

0n anny inquiring further the meaning 0f the boat-
mau’s answer, she learned that the sticks were placed
there to indicate the only channel which permuted a
boat to approach the shots on that side of the
rake, where the water was shoal, while in
other parts. the depth had never been fathomed.

An early excursion on the water was planned for the
1110111111 y and Edward and Fanny were wakened from
their s umber! by the tones of the bugle; a soft Inlh
melody beiugrbreathed by Spfllm, followed by a more

om the other minstrel of the lake, Ganzy.

 

 

' one
Imilligveleilm now up under another aspect—the
Inormn sun and morning breeze were upon it, pud the
bllml with which the shades of e had invested
mountains was Manta“ of mag: on the
. - f rAntnrnn nn bann
“‘3. grown-d to sum-in all variety or

w

 

 

wood, which, thouoh tin ed by the declining year, had
scarcely shed onetleufy sum, The day was glorious,
and the favouring breeze enabled the bout to career across
the sparkling lake under canvas, till the overhanging hills
of the opposite side robbed them of their aerial wings,
and the sail being struck the boatmen bent to their oars.
As they dpassed under a promintory, clothed from the
waters e t,c to its topmost ridge with the most luxuriant
vegetation, it was pointed out to the lady as “ the minis-
ter s back.” .

“’Tis a strange name," said Fanny. “Do you know
why it is called so? "

“ Faix I dunno, my lady—barrin‘ that it is the best
covered back in the country. But here we come to the
aiclzos," said be, resting on his cars. The example was
followed by his fellows, and the bu ler, lifting his in—
strument to his lips, ave one long we l-sustained blast.
It ran across the wa ers gallantly. It returned in a few
secou s with such unearthly sweetness, as though the
spirit of the departed sound had become heavenly, and
reVisited the palace where it had expired.

Funny and dward listened breathlessly.

Thc bugle gave out its notes again in the well-known
“ call,” and as sweetly as before the notes were returned
distinctly.

And now a soft and slow and simple melody stole from
the exquisitel played bugle, and phrase aftcr phrase was
echoed from t is responding hills. How many an emotion
stirred within Edward’s breast, as the melting music fell
upon his earl in the midst of matchless beauties he heard
the matchless strains of his native land, and the echoes of
her old hills responding to the triumphs of her old bards.
The air, too, bore with it historic associations-it told a
tale of wrong and of sufierina. The wrong has ceased,
tilitfi inflorng is past, but t e air which records them
s ives.

“Ohi triumph of the minstrell “ exclaimed Edward in
delight. “ The tyrant crumbles in his coffin. while the
song of the bard survives! The memory of a sceptered
rutiian is endlessly branded b a simple strain, while
many of the elaborate chronic es of .his ev1l life have
passed awe and are mouldering like himself." _

Scarcely ad the echoes of this exquisite air died away.
when the entruncement it carried was rudely broken by
one of the vulgarest tunes being brayed from a bugle in
a boat which was seen rounding the headland of the wood-
ed romintory.

dward and Fanny writhsd, and ut their hands to
their ears. “ Give way, boysl ” said dward; “for pity’s
sake get away from these barbarians. Give wayl ”

Away spran the boat. To the boatman’s inquiry
whether they 5 ould stop at “ Lady Kenniare’s Cottage,
Fanny said “no " when she found on inquir it was a
particularly “show- lace,“ being certain t e vulgar
party foilowin w (1 stop there, and therefon time
might be gaine in getting away from such disagreeable

followers.
Dinas Island, fringed with its

lovely woods,

excited their admiration, as they passed under-
neath its shadows, and turned into Turk Lake;
here the labyrinthine nature of the channels

through which they had been windin was changed for
a circular expanse of water, over whic the lofty moun-
tain, whence it takes its name, towers in all its wild
beauty of wood, and rock, and heath. '

At a certain part of the lake. the boatmen Without any
visible cause, rested on their oars. Qu Edward asking
them why they did not pull, he received this touching
answer:—

“ Sure, your honor would not have us disturb Ned
Macarthy‘s avel " _

“ Then a filiath was drowned here, I suppose f " said
Edward.

“Yes, your honor." The boatman then told how the
accident occurred “ one day when there was a stag-hunt
on the lake; ‘7 but as the anecdote struck Edward 90
forcibly that he afterwards recorded it in verse, we Will
give the story after his fashion: .

' MACARTHY’S GRAVE.

l-

The breeze was fresh, the morn was fair,
The stag had left his dewy lair; v
To cheering horn and be ing tongue,
Killaruey’s echoes sweet y rung.
With sweeping our and bending mast,
The eager chase was followmg fast;
When one light skiff a maiden steer’d
Beneath the deep wave disappear‘d:
Wild shouts of terror wildly ring,
A boutmau brave, with gallant spring
And dauutless arm, the ady bore;
But he who saved-was seen no more!

II-

Where weeping birches wildly wave,
There boatmen show their brother’s gran;
And while they tell the name he bore,
Suspended hangs the lifted our;

The silent drops they idly shed

Seem like tears to gallant Ned;

And While gentlygliding by“

The tale is told Wit meisten (1 eye,
No ri pie on the slumb'ring lake
Unha low'd oar doth ever make;

All undisturb’d, the placid wave
Flows gently o’er Macarthy s grave.

Winding backwards through the channels which lead
the ekplorers of this scene 0 nature’s enchantment from
the lower.to the upper lake, the surpassing beaut of the
“ Eagle‘s nest " burst on their view ; and as they Waxed
under its stu endous crags, clustering With all variety of
verdure, the ugle and the cannon awoke the almost end-
less reverberation of sound which is engendered here.
Passing onward, a sudden change is wrought; the soft
beauty melts adhally away, widths scene hardens into
frowning me 5 and steep acclivities, making a bemmg
vestibule to the bold and bleak precipices of “The
Reeks," which form the western barrier of this upper
lake, whose save e andeur is renderrd more striking by
the scenes of fairy- ike beauty left behind. But even
here, in the midst of the mi htiest desolation, the ve ta.
tive v or of the numerous slands proves the won on.
Produ veness of the soil in these regions.

n their return, a great commotion was observable as
they approached the rapids formed by the descending
waters of the upper lake to the lower, and they were
ailed and warned by some of the peasants from
shore that the must not attempt the rapids at resent, a

shoot, which just been upset, in athwa the p...
sage. Onh this, Edward and sun landed upon
the falls, audw toward the old brl e, where all
was bus "fusion. as the dripping passenger-

Were dra ed safely to shore from the ca,
which had ecu upset by the principal gentlem.
party, whose vulgar trumpetings had so disturbed
ight of Edward and Funny, who soon recognized
renowned Andy as the insti rater of the bad music a.
the cause of the accident. es, Lord Scatterbrain, true
to his original practice, was author of all.

Nevertheless, he and his arty soused over head and
ears as the were, took thet ing in ood humor, which

- was unbro an even by the irrepressible laughter which

esca ed from Edward and Funny, as they approached and
kind iof‘Iered assistance. An immediate removal to the
neigh ormg cottage on Dinas Island was I‘BCOIHIDLHdCd,
particularly as La y Scatterbrain was in a delicate situa-
tion, as well indeed, as Mrs. Durfy, who, with he, dear
Tom, had joined Lord Scattcrbrain s party of pleasure.

On reaching the cottage sufllcient change of clothes
was obiained o prevent evil consequences from the duck-
ing. This, under ordinary circumstances, might not. have
been eas for so many; but, fortunately, Lord Scatter»
brain ha ordered a complete dinner from the hotel to be
served in the cottage, an some of the assistants from the
Victoria, who were necessarily present, hel ed to dress
more than the dinner. ‘What betWIien coo maids and
waiters, the care-taker of the cottage and the boatman,
bodies and skirts, jackets and other conveniences, enabled
the Iparty to sit down to dinner in company until firs
con d mend the mistake of his Lordship. Edward and
Funny courteously joined the party; and the honor of
their company was sensibl felt by Andy and Oonah,
who won d have home a licking a day for the honor of
havmg Fanny and Edward as their guests. Oonah was
by nature_a nice creature, and adapted herself to her ele-
vated position With a modest ease that was an rising.
Even Andy was b this time able to conduct himse f toler-
ubl well at tab e—onl on that particular day he did
me e a mistake: for w en salmon (which is served at
Killarneyin all sorts of variety) made its appearance for
the first time in the novel form “ en pa 'lhzte," Andy ate
paper and all. He refused a second cut et, however, say—
ing he “ thought the skin tough.” The party, however,

assed of mirthfully, the very accident helping the fun;

or, instead of any one being called by name, the ” lady
in the jacket,“ or the “ gent emun iu the bedgown,“ were
the terms of address; and, after a merril spent evening,
the beds of the Victoria gave sleep and p easing dreams to
the so'ourners of Killamey. ,

Kin reader! the shortening space we have prescribed
to our volume warns us we must draw our story to an end.
Nine months after this Killarue excursion, Lord Scatter
brain met Dick Dawson near ount Eskar, where Lord
Scatterbi-ain had ridden to make‘_ certain inquiries about
Mrs. O’Connor‘s health. Dick wore a smiling counten-
ance, and to Andy’s inquiry answered, “ All right, and
-domg as well as can be ex ected."

Lord Scatterbrain, wishing to know whether it was a
boy or a 1girl, made the in uiry in the true spirit of Andy-
1812:"; e11 me, Misther awsou, are you an unclear an
au ‘

Andy's mother died soon after of the cold caught by he:
ducking. On her death-bed she called Oouuh to her and said

“I leave you this quilt, murmur-Wis worth more than
it appears. The hundred pound notes Andy ave mel

uiited intqthe lining, so that ifI lived poor al my life

1 lately I died under a uilt of bank-notes, anyhow.”

Uncie hob was gathers to his fathers also, and left the
bulk of his property to Augusta, so that Furlong had to
regret his contemptible conduct in rejecting her hand.
Augusta indulged in a s its to all mankind for the future,
enjoying her dogs an her independence and defying
Bymen and hydrophobic for the rest of herlife.

Gusty went on profitin by the early care of Edward
O’Connor whose friends lg was ever his._dearest Posses-
sion; and lRatty, always wil , expressed adesire for ending
a life of enterprise. As they are both "Irish heirs," as
Lord Scatterbrain, and heirs under very different circum-
stances, it is not improbable that in our future “ accounts“
something may yet be heard of them, and the. giItefu‘
author once more meet his kind readers.

[TEE mm.)

 

 

Moons AND TENSES or Lima—In the days when
Lindley Murray was a terror, and his pages a
mystery, wh didn’t “the master hint that we
should never done with the moods and tenses
until we were done with time?” That the world
is full of them? How like quarter-horses we

lunged through the verb “ love..’ “ I love, loved

ave loved had loved shall or will love, shal
have 10v .” Onwe darted through the “cans
coulds and mights of ,the potential, the mys-
terious contingencies of the subJunctive, and
so on, till we bro ht u the rear of this myste~
r‘iclmscav’alcade o deed; in the great when of

own .

For e sturdy “ present tense," full of facts and
figures, knocks and knowledges, we must look
among the diggers and workers ofthe world; for
the bri ht “future,” full of _ and
me ngues, we must look in e swarming
schoo s, or examine  bundles of white dimityl
They who wear. the livery of time, who li er
in-emblin ly amid the din of life—they aren§he
melancho y “ past!”

Before the memory becomes the cemete of
the soul, “I am”is asbeautiful asen old

When
“ The-battle is done the harp unstrung.
his music treman , dying,”
Then “I shall be,” is a su lime prophny V

 

 

 

 

1.

 

«l‘

 

 

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l

 

BEADLE’S Eur-film LIBRARY.

Every one or them "' Live ” Storles by “Live ’9 Authors. Each number
a Complete Novel, n: the extrnordlnary prlee or n HALF-DIME.

l Deadwood Dick, Tn] Parson or m
’ Rom. By Edward L. Wheeler.
 Yellowstone Jack; or, TH]: TRArPn
‘ or'rnl ENCEAN'rnn (3mm. By J. E. Badger, Jr.
‘ Kansas Kin ; or, THE RED RIGHT
‘ ‘ HAND. B B 0811] (Hon. Wm. 1". Cody).
The Wil ~Horse Hunters. By Capt.
Mayne Reid and Ca t. Frederick Whittaker.
5 Vagabond J on; pic YOUNG annn-
mi) km. By 01] 000mm.
6 Bill Biddon, Tra er: or Lin in
m: Noa'rnwm. By ‘ ward 8. Ellis.
7 The f'van' Eg- Yankee: or, Tun OCEAN
_ OIT'l‘CAflT. y Col. Prentiss lngrahain.
8 Seth Jones; or, Tnn CAP'rrvns or rnn
‘ Fwomn. By Edward 8. Ellis.
9. The Adventures of Baron Mun-
chanson.
10 Nat Todd: or, Tint FATE or ran
Sioux Cum". By Edward 8. Ellis.
1 1 The Two Detectives; or, Tn
FORTUNBSOIABOWIBYGIH. A.W.Alken.
12 G'Eilillliver‘sd TgavelggaAbgoyege to
ut,nn a oyags ro ngnng.
1 The Bomb Sp . By 011 Coomes,
author of “ Vagabond Joe," etc.
14 Aladdin: or, Tu Wormmn'r.
Lair.
15 The Sea-Cat: or Tan Wrron or
Dunes. By Capt. r‘redeuci: Whittaker.
16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and

Surprisin Adventures. 27 illustrations.)
17 Ralph 0y, The oy Bucca-
» neer. By Col