ENTERED at THE Poe-r Omen AT NEW Yo

 

m, N. Y., “bacon: Chase Mm

 

.i it

till%

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RATES.

 

 

 

Published Every
Week.

V01. XI.

QBea

98 WILLIAM STREET. N. Y., May 11, 1881.

 

Rody, the Rover,

TEE BIBBONMAN OF IRELAND.

BY WILLIAM CARLETON.

CHAPTER I.

DESCRIPTION AND TRANSFORMATION OI“
VILLAGR OF BALLYBRACKEN.

Tun village of Ballyhracken was, some
thirty years ago, as favorable a specimen of
filth, neglect and ignorance, as any satirist upon
our national habits could wish to point out.
It consisted of about tWo-soore houses, or
rather huts, in some parts huddled together in
twee and threes; and in others scattered about
without order or for a thought; exactly as if
thede been sown by broadcast. Street or
pavement there was none, un-
le-s a strip of rutted mud in
winter, with here and there a
stepping-stone could be called
such; whilst in summer, nearly
one-half of what the inhabitants
swallowed was the aforesaid
mud, being now only the same
curse disguised in the shape of
dust. Every cabin in it, how-
ever, could boast, without a
single exception, of having be-
fore its door that fragrant nose-
gay, the dung-hill, appropri~
atcly set in its pool of green,
stagnant water. This latter
circumstance was, how 6 ver,
by no means looked upon by
the people as a nuisance. We
cannot certainly quarrel with
our humble countrymen for col—
lecting a dungheap near their
houses. the only point of dif-
ference between us is its post-
h‘mt. So long as potatoes are
their sole support, we know that
to deprive them of the manure
on which they plant them,
would be literally to take away
from them the stalk of life.
What We should wish them to
do. therefore, is to avoid mak-
ing the dung~hills so many play—
grounds for their children; or
collecting them in such a posi-
tion as to render it impossible
to enter the house, without in-
haling the {arid and unv-hole—
some stench which is perpetual—
ly exhaling from them.

Such a picture of misery as
the village of Ballybracken then
was could scarrely be seen.
Home of the houses were thatch-

THE

 

ed with heath, others with rushes, and many
of them had no other covering than scraws,
that is, the greensward cut into equal stripes,
and laid over the roof. Inside a stool or two;
a large pot and a small one, with a couple of
wooden or earthen vessels, on a single shelf: a
mended chair, perhaps; an old creel for fetch-
ing turf; a dusty saltbag hanging up in the
chimney, and a scralwg or (asset, on which to
empty out the potatoes when boiled—consti-
tuted their principal furniture. Their fire,
which, in general consisted of brushwood, or
bnuma, as it is termed. was lit only at meal
times to boil their potatoes; but an abiding
fire remaining in the hearth for the day, was a
comfort they seldom knew. A hole in the roof
served for a chimney, but when the fire was
lit a thick atmosphere of smoke oozed through
the whole roof, about which it wreathed itself
so closely, that the said roof was often invis
iblo. This state of things was very manifest

la.

nun WERE STANDING AT m WINDOW, LOCKED IN EACH o'rm’s M

(129, (f1 fldams, @zzmzlshers,

 

Ten Cents a. Copy.

on the inmates, every one of Whom was so
thoroughly spotted over with soot drops. both
in dress and complexion, that it was disgust‘
ing to look at them; and when heavy rain
came, I can compare the torrents which
streamed from the miserable roof, to nothing
but an overgrown shower-bath of ink. In
truth it was truly pitiable to see the tattered
mother, or some of her naked children. empty-
ing out before the door the water that thus
descended, lest it might inundate the floor, or
collect in that corner of the cabin in which
they shook out their beds of straw. But in
fact the squalid misery and frightful destitu-
tion of such scenes have been sooften described
that it is now only necessary to assure the
reader that the villagers of Ballybracken were
not a whit behind the worst of them in pov-
erty, filth, and what is the most painful of all,
an unconsciouan of that filth, and a lazy,
ignorant Contentment under their poverty.

The land about it was cold,
mountainous, and of course bar-
ren, with scarcely a patch from
which could be extorted any-
thing at all like a crop. About
two or three miles below them
lay arich and fertile country,
thickly inhabited, and whose
population were by no means
wanting in most of the com-
forts, aud some of the rustic
luxuries of'life. .

Bullyhrucken, however, was
indeed in a sad state. The poor
people were so far sunk in the
scale of human comfort as to be
almost incapable of properly un—
derstanding the extent of their
own privations. There was no
school near them to which they
could send their children, and of
course the latt(r had little else
to do than run about, half-wild,
half-naked, and half-fed; idle,
hzy. and mischievous; scolding,
quarreling and fighting among
themselves, and making reprisals
on each other in revenge or in
evil of some description. Meat
they never tasted, unless at
Christmas or Easter, when they
contrived to purchase some pork,
which they enjoyed as a luxury.

In this state was the village
of Ballybracken, when one day
two or three gentlemen. attend-
ed by half a dozen men of an
humble class, made their ap-
pearance among them. They
and their attendants wandered
day after day about the bleak

. hills, digging here, and grub-
ar‘ hing there, an if they had bed),
searching for money; a rep:

 

2

12on THE 160 VER.

 

 

which soon gained ground, and drew crowds of
the villagers to the hills, who dodged after them
day by day, until at length they were satisfied
téiat all the money-seekers brought away with
t mm was a lump or two of queer-looking stone.
The carrying oil of these stones was looked upon
by our worthy villagers asa capital joke against
the strangers, who cut their stick with a flea in
their car, amidst the jeers and laughter of the
enlightened inhabitants of Ballybracken.

This was all very well for about a month. or
two, when it appeared that the same party of
stone-grubbers, in the very teeth of their supe-
riors in the village, were stupid enoughto seek
the hills once more, for the purposehof still
di ' dee er in quest of money. T e ridi-
ouggliiigthe inllage was now boundless.

“Arra, sure, the dirty Bodaghs are diggin’
for goold in the hills above; Oh, by the——but
that takes the shine l”

“ Hut," observed another, “ sure these Bo-
daghs is so ignorant, that there’s many of them
not much beyant the four-footed cattle !"

“ But tell us," asked another, “ what did they
do with the stone they carried off ?”

” Why, I'm tould they boiled it, an’ like Bob
M’Cann‘s lobsters, it was only harder it got."

Some ignorant fellow, however, had the te-
merity to report, that a wealthy company Were
about to work certain mines that had been dis.
covered under the unpromising surface of the
aforesaid hills.

“ What, to dig for mines under hills that

never produced a blessed blade of eatable
s l'
“ Oh by the hoky ! Well, let them thry their

hands, sure they’ll see the upshot; goold about
Ballybrackenl - Well, afther that the sky will
fall !”

This was all very well, and the ridicule ex-
cellent; but in about afortnight afterwards,
somehow or other, their landlord. a Mr. Ogle,
in company with several entlemen, made his
appearance on the hills uded to, and in the
most unaccountable manner, sufl’ered himself
to be gullod into a belief of the prevalent re-
port. Another month, however, sobered down
their ridicule, and altogether unsettled their
principles on that subject. An enterprising
company had farmed the barren hills we speak
of, and the villagers themselves soon became as
orthodox on this subject as the most ignorant
and credulous Bodagh of them all.

And now did their eyes begin to open, and
now did they begin also to perceive, that the
Bodayhs were not altogether so senseless “as
the baists that graize ;" and that grubbing into
the hills for money, whatever it might take out

of the pockets of the company, was an excellent I

plan for putting cash into their own. To their
astonishment, and I may add delight, they
found, that instead of being in a state of idle-
ness, and even of actual mendicancy durin
some parts of the year, they had now constan
employment at triple, and sometimes quadruple
wages. This was unquestionable, as the jingle
of the silver every Saturday night settled their
skepticism on that int.

Other beneficial temtions were now soon to-
follow. In the first place, it was found neces.
‘oary to build in the village a house for the super-
intending agent, and also to rent a few others—
the best, of course—for the clerk, and some of
the rincipal miners. These were soon slated,
and ad as had been the appearance of the vil-
lage huts heretofore, their aspect now was, by
the force of contrast, an indication of utter
misery, want of cleanliness, and shameless in-
difference to personal comfort, on the part of
the people. But what will not a good example
and practical knowledge even in the most ordin-
ary circumstances, do? Attached to each of
the new houses was a rden behind, and a
small plot for shrubs and owers before. Good
taste and care soon brought these to something
like order, so that they appeared as a standing
censure upon the neglected and eleven! char,
actor of the village. It is true, in the t in-
stance, they were certainly looked upon as an.
‘warrantablo innovations upon the Wg
usages of the people; and the little er-plot

 

before, as a poor, sickly, sentimental substitute
for the good honest old stink of the dunghill,
to which their noses were so well accustomed.
“Flowers indeedl Cock them up wid flow-
ers no less! Could one boils. flower. or nit a
flower, or do anything else wid it than stick it
as a posey in one's button-holeA that is if a
body had a button-hole; wherein it was well
known that there wasn’t three safe button-holes
in all Ballybracken; No, what‘s their flowers
in comparishment wid a good dish of soft net-

'tles of a sharp spring day, to clone the blood,

and drive out a wholesome rash upon the chil-
dre, the craythurs ?”

“ An' they expect us too, to take the poor
dunghill from before the door, an’ it our best
friend! Catch us at it, indeed. Faith, the
daicent dunghill never did [anything to make it
ashamed, an’ for the same raison it isn‘t in a
hole or corner we’ll put it to plaise a pack of
ignorant Bodaghs, that doesn’t know the value
of such a thing—fellows that were never fed
upon anything else, barrin’ beef an' bread an’
bacon, the hathens l”

Under these circumstances it need not be
wondered at, that the hand of spoliation was
occasionally laid upon the flower-plots, whose
contents were, in some instances, torn up and
scattered about the streets, by some nightly de-
predator, who resolutely determined to support
the old usages which had been so long sacred
to ignorance, and to prejudice, her ahnost in-
separable companion.

Time, however, and knowledge work great
changes. Money, too, if it be the root of evil,
is also the root of all improvement ; and the
agent being fortunately a man who took a lively
interest in the welfare of these poor people,
taught them how to improve their houses; and
insisted that habits of domestic industry and
cleanliness, were essential to their own com-
forts, and the duty besides of their wives and
daughters. The people, seeing what comfort
was, soon began to feel this. They had now a
standard by which to measure their own ignor-
ances, prejudices, and errors; and in conse-
quence, the first faint indications of improve"
ment began to appear. A house, for instance,
was newly thatched; by and by it was white-
washed; buta man could not have aspongy
floor in a whitewashed house ; surely no, a new
floor, if only for consistency’s sake, must follow
that; but then what is a new floor, and a well
thatched whitewashed house, if there is not a
decent bed and convenient furniture ? So much
being now accomplished, their children, coming
out of so respectable a cottage, could not ap-

ar in rags, and ' clothing was not so very

ear, Then the unghill mi ht as well be re-
moved alittle farther from t 9 door, in order
to leave something like a plain way to the
house. '

“ Because you see if it's put farther to the
left, that beautiful on dub, that the stepping-
stones are throng will run off and leave the
place quite plain and dry."

Thus did improvement creo gradually in,
until not only each individual onse, but the
whole village was changed incredibly for the
better. As yet, however, the streets remained
unpaved; but the landlord now, to his dishonor
be it spoken, was forced to do from shame what
he ought long before to have done from duty.
He contributed reluctantly to the paving of the
streets. ‘

It has been often said, that one error, or one
misfortune draws anotherafter it, and we be-
lieve that thisls truth; but so also does one
comfort: for the moment that a taste for better

thin is created, whether morally or physical-
ly, 8 pro ressive character of knowl a will
not sufier t e mind to rest, until the csired

int is ined, rovidod the means of reaching
ito lie witgn ours’blves. It was now found that
a Provision shop and a Grocery concern, upon
a moderate scale, would be very useful to the
inhabitants ~ and it has been known that where
the do exists, the supply has not been

long wanting. Every step in comfort and in-~

dependence occasioned many and reasonable
wants, that required new manifestations of skill

 

and industry or enterprise to meet them. The
wear and tear of machinery rendered it neces—
sary to have a smith and carpenter in the vil-
la 6; and the surprising progress which these
sa utary changes were every day making, soon
brought the stone mason, the shoemaker. and
the tailor into full practice. In short, allproot‘s
of growing prosperity beganto put themselves
forward agreeably and distinctly ;the well-
paved streets; comfortable houses; well-stock'-
ed gardens; neat plots before the door; clean
and healthy-looking children, decently clad, and
cheerful fathers and mothers, might now be
seen in the village of Ballybracken, where they
never, within the memory of man, had been
seen before. It is unnecessary, however, to go
too far into detail in matters which every read-
er can understand as well as myself. Five
years had scarcely elapsed, when our village
presented an aspect of unusual neatness, order,
and comfort. I‘wo regular lines of new slated
cottages were ,erected; a school-house was
built, shops were opened: dunghills dissap-
peared, but were not abolished ,- gardens were
enclosed, and patches of land cultivated. The
villagers and their wives could not be known
as the same beings whom we have described a
page or two back. They were now well fed,
decently and warmly clothed, and their chil.
dren clean and creditable to look at. They
lived, in fact, to recant their old and absurd
prejudices; and to laugh, with a considerable
hanging of the lip, however, at their former
ridicule of the Bodagh.

It is false and unjust to say, that the Irish,
when they come to know and taste its sweets,
are insensible either to comfort or cleanliness.
Unfortunately neither the one nor the other is
the general habit of the country, in consequence
o.' unreasonable and exorbitantrents. Through-
out lreland, with the exception of the North,
they have not, especially in remote laces like
Ballybracken, any adequate standa or model
to uide them; and it is not every man who has
an cient strength of mind to become a re-
former in the domestic habits of his house, the
order of his farm-yard, or the system of his
agriculture. The Irish, besides have a singular
attachment to the customs and usages of their
forefathers, whether rightor wrong; and al—
though this is frequently enough absurd in the
extreme, yet it is often diilicult to root it out,
or to get them tounderstand the principle upon
which a wholesome improvement should be
made; we ought not to forget, that onset of
parliament was necessary, and scarce] sum-
cient, to revent us from ploughing , y our
horses’ ‘ . This should open our eyes, and
teach us that the innovation which we then
looked upon as barbarous, is now known by
ourselves to have been one that removed a most
inhuman and cruel custom from the country.

Ballybracken was now pro erous, the peo-
ple happy, their younger children receiving
education, and their grown ones employment.
They looked up to the agent of these works
with afiection and gratitude. because they saw
and felt that he was their friend, and manifested
a lively interest in their welfare. The small
public house which had been opened did not
seem to proeper; for, as the people Were con-
tented and comfortable, they stood in no need
of artificial excitement to misc spirits that were
never depressed. In short, peace and good-
will abided with them; for, in truth, they had
little to wish for, and nothing of which to com-
plain. They now knew the difi'erence be-
tween knowledge and ignorance—they were,
in fact, an educated people, who could look
bactolapon their old prejudices and ignorances
in g -humored contempt, and who clung no
longer to their dirt and their dung-hills, their
bad air, soot-drops, and shake-down beds. It
is true the grown population, whom we have
just called educate , had received no literary
Instruction, as did their children; still, they
soon became acquainted with a higher range of
social and domestic duties, and felt the benefit
of that knowledge which trains and elevates the
feelings to a pro r conception of what every
man in this word owes to himself—that 18, an

 

 

 

honorable determination to improve, by all fair
and legitimate means, his own condition and
that of those who have only him to look up to

in it.

It would be difiioult now to find a neuter,
cleaner, or more comfortable village than that
That air of happiness and
repose which nothing but industry and peace
can bestow, was now visible on it, and its in-
habitants; and, indeed, if a man stood on one
of the hills at whose feet it lay, and contem-

of Ballybracken.

plated its double row of neat white houses,

shining in the evening light of a calm summer’s
sun, and marked the blue columns of smoke
that rose from the chimneys, untroubled by a
single breeze, he could not help wishing that
every village in the kingdom would take it as a
model, and thus enjoy the uiet comforts of the

happy and peaceful peope who lived in it.

Happy and peaceful they now arc, neither idle
nor mischievous, nor anxious to embroil them-
selves in the mad and senseless feuds of either
faction or party. Their amusements—for they
are not without amusements, as what people
ought?—~are all of a harmless but healthful
description. Neither are the duties of their re-
ligion either forgotten or neglected Sunday

comes to them with a cheerful and foetal spirit;

for the father and mother, attendedi by their
family, can make a decent and in eppndent

appearance among their fellow. ' 'oners.

The usual argument against going to mass no
longer exists in Ballyhracken; nor are any
such conjugal dialogues as the following heard

in it of a Sunday mm-ning:
Wile-—“ J emmy, what 'ud you? think now,

if itwns only by way (It/novelty, or goin’ to

hear

and gotfin' o MI
for God

of prayers,

it has spilt the putts-wattle:- all over-the flute-L—
ha. ha. and ha, 88in!
divil’s limb of'an animal, that's a curse to the
house,” you nre—throth you might be
enough an"  a bit or boord to the foot of
that cold door, to keep it out, the thief.”) ‘
Husband—“lam wh‘yqthe norm did r you go to
strike the crothur' wid the‘tgade? «There, now,
you’ve'lamed it. or,- maybe, rake its leg. < Look
atthat; thesorraiootit has toput undherlt‘,
sorra'cut the hands of you, but you're ready
wid youruniucky blow at thopoor omthur 1"”;

woe-u , an" own read wid our'os  v
y the hands‘you; but’htshl - ’M

an’yonr‘nomoot
staid, itu'fidbo for fithgrer foréyqu'tomjup

61110 , n V 611 "n '   the
Warhead}.- I it’ll-1 5-   ,

unit in;  tfim‘you’d' have mb’ offici-  

posin‘ our condition to the whole dish I, ,,
“It’s not your coat but yours ,that'God will
idea. on thé'm‘day: but watermark. “Rf!
‘ 'ttle mimics sn'little prayers goes  on.
Do y , ‘ever expecttoraoe Godot all, the
“1°  WW I , , 
“ rm not' sayin’ it’s in coal he'll, J‘idge;
neither is it.” gem he'll p Molly; an’ as
10: mg.mau. I don’t see that you've
mmomumaaw Women to:

blue-moulded I’ll

gooddi- Mm; hen ~.
washing-uto’thrmroh, Edd
one '

mm ..0h,.the Lmdhoipmi I say; “in.
outoohoor-tonyioot, orsoaptomyhoad. - A
fineflgun'l’dout goin'tomau. indeed! And

it you m’tn nun. you’d blush
tosee me goin' among tho-way!
am." ' ‘

rummaginkath hell’s! u

till’mt‘n» v ' .- @9an 011mm
time enough to get you before you uble it.
I At any rate, it'saspoda you ought to hare in

‘you‘ won't them—(ha! eon-
sumin’ to'you for a-blackguard‘pig; there, it

   I

’Ir ‘

humanist:   I

600 Y THE RO VER.

childre', like a man—what you’re not."
my shins over the fire, an’ makin’

what you are.”
“ Oh, that‘s it!
answers still!

you can say for yourself, you poor pettiogue."
known.

flakin’ that you’ll remember."
“Oh, in troth, I wouldn’t
an‘ the child in my arms too;

or worse.
afther the fair wid you."

that wants it worse than I do '1’”

es and “Mom-

an; of the other old usages connected, with th
ignorant habits of their former-lives, . . . : . ~

and prosperous do a, when Jensmy  W.
together with whim eats! all the

monotonous-An" w
attends earlymouandhow. _ . ,
“Malt  “195'?”
voucher. 9'51)qu theme; God.

M’s} 6- utumn as. man, spouve

mots her-hands IA”.- > a
V“   z, 
“ William remix shut.‘ as .v '
Malena-mm ,- 
We: leokssbesutiful; owth .17.!!! am“
turnoutuhg’; _. ,, H v, ,1_
“lukewarm. don’t Was all will)“:
maybe here'msste a concern-streets any
day. Fasten these hooks, will,'you.,.botwm
myshoulders. . Soon on .o’ the. new":
but: a beauty. Ill 01.1"; M’ 
did not overhmuoh :ltkqfiknewit 'udmnh- .
welL,Armdidn’t them thecrsthsrs.
chneanddsopntsom tetheeatoohuohls be-
. .i v ~A:..:.,/ ‘
,‘f.' '. n 1.; id 11' Li,
“Esgcially poorBaniey, 
Michamm up
mywmm

Mahokstaboahoxs. writin' “shot
 Mkflmwlwrt out
etther of it." . Z . .

 

u

 

your fist every day, workin’ for me an’ your

“I don’t sit from mornin’ till ni ht roastin'
irds’ nests
in the ashes wid my heels, like a lazy trollop—

Go on; you’ll give the back
Divil a more you’re good for,
you unmanly blackguard. Poor as I am I’m
respected by the neighbors, an' that's more than

“You had betther not provoke me, I tell you.
Sure every one knows that you’re the worst-
tongued barge in all Ballybracken—that’s wull
God knows it was the black day that
ever I seen your face; an’ I’ll tell you what, by
this blessed pipe in my hand, if you don’t keep
a civil tongue in your head, I’ll give you a.

ut it past you,
ut sure it ’ud be
the wondher if you wor anything else than the
vagabone you are, or any man that never shows
his face at his parish chapel, or bonds his knee
undher priest or friar, but lives like a hathen
However, there ’ill come a day you’ll
be sorry for it all, an‘ for not mindin’ my words,
an’ that, may be, when it’ll be too late—s day

“God bless us! what a prophet you are!
Why don’t you apply some of it to yourself,

Oh, no! there were no such lively dialogues .
as the above to enliven the morning of, the
Lord’s day; for, indeed, there is no gainsaying that.
the truth of the old proverb, that as poverty
creeps in at the door, love will fly out of the
window. It is equally true, however, that in ,
proportion as poverty disappears, and industry
 returns, sedans love, at» Kitty,
tendedhy his sweet and. delighttul retinuopf put dovnthe dinner, about twelve, ist...
Nomtskethatyou WWW I 
.01;th repeat; so Sm: m.m the
logues being the staple production ct Avery
Saturdaymornnig’s occupation. humm-
on, this “1on had changed, as much as

his new Sunday morning in their pesoehtl .,,

‘ 3'



plum "that thereon! a,

f max hie“

“ Well, but isn’t it a great thing to us both
that the crathurs can read us slob knowledge-
able advice~that’s the wrong hook, man; there,
that’ll do—sich knowledgeable advice out of
them little books, tnichin’ us what to do an’
what we ought not to do; how to keep our
houses clone and nate, inside an’ out ; how we’re
always to be doin’ something that‘s useful; how
we’re to be sober an' unctunl—up early 811'
down late; kn’, abovs :51 things, not to neglect
our religious duties." 7

“ All, indeed, Molly ; an' to respect ourselves,
an’ to avoid bad company, an', above all thingS,
to have nothin' to do with these secret societies,
or ribbonism in any shape, Eh! why here’s
Kitty! Arm, Kitty dear, where were you this
minute when I went to see if you wor comin' ?”

“ Why, as I passed the garden, I thou ht I

to boil with the bacon, as to be goin' back agin
for them.” , ._ z

“ Bedad that pig, Molly,” exclaims the bus;
band, looking towards the chimney—corner,
where it hung in fat flitches of bacon, “that
last pig turned out famously; but I knew it
would cut up,well.” , n

“Well, son-a one, Jammy, but it went
wid me an’ Bar to sit the kidney. That I.
ma ’t sin, but in spite of what Father Kayne

' I was afraid there wopld grow a kian
out oi both our cheeks, an’ hang there as low
as we lived.” “ , _ W: ,4,
“ Hut, woman, there’s many an ould plenum"
nonsense that’ll be sent a shaughran as well on
Well, are you ready to start? .1 canton
you .uge’llhave very little time to opens for tho
twelveo’cloekmase" . .  . n; no.
f‘-I’m jist bringin’ this little  to :totoh
home a «up 0’ holy Wat-hello keepin‘thshom
Come now, in the name 0? God: '
Wishide of th

,, .. s graver slum

them; on: about“, muss, Jet
they: mw,mdthe fire. ., ,Yeu’R».finéeo
dim-skier gale internment?“ 
enthem shelf. sn’worm mac, in
the skillet, to: ,a. cowld dhrink doesn’tiagroo

Hid him.” ,
G» A IN, ,1. , ,... J; _
ness of heart, an to place themselves, With, ,n-

a. .3391;  the  Otto
mdutrm , am
Wormhole: Mohamme-
' u w A;  .md ‘ H. min-1,11; .1
p: »«.. v; ' ;- ed in")

-, I.) an... ‘Ju .  "u hint-:4.”

Wham-demo cloud“; km

the fainthuesef‘pwnle. . which
Inflow rmlhs. _ the. ‘
emitted»! .. 30.510211: ,to June , .
rest in that calm and majestic: War, ,
makes our whim '_ ' .
mm he lessee be

Mmmmgwd , _ 
newsroom. ‘ o evening _-i, m .
MINA; no vlnoh‘ ble. ,4 .mdm
with their verdure, so astoproduoe '

“about Winemakers ..vlyiqh- .,
withouliour recipient its“.
sense 0 hope, pure. . . ..
The trees and en hedges were vocal 1' "
em 1'; n
py n was . .
a tguontor. overJnduurwua 1
bone, ulteppwahsnmve “being belated ,.
at the other and of the green whom it .
intothumeothsandwedoed the ,cslxn river:
mt!» villages. at play onions than.
selves whilst then. shown; and humus

'3

‘ they were  into littlojufl.r m

 

w w v‘v'v»,

.\ 5 ' ‘ ‘
“sha- “on mourth m not ed.
mar nor sughter. can est the some kids!!! undo!“
My mentioned in the text. _ ,

 

might as well out a couple 0’ heads of cab aged

Mikenisoxut    .
may with aw, .hut

. “dummies; thonssushonml, , ~
but mtlzeficmdlesa West, . 

. the
mot-heaven. throng, hwhwhfithe willow

/

\.

 Jain-J; 1;..3‘;  I-“

.A 32., ' ‘ I
..:,:_.h.’.;‘ h  —-fiv_.._ ‘2-..

..

 

BODY THE ROVER.

 

 

came upon the ear in touching accordance with l
the simple harmonies that breathed from sur-i
rounding nature. The labors of the day had 
for sometime closed, and the young men of the 1
village of Bullybracken were amusing them- 

can do Shaun Buie in betther style, Nannie ‘,
here won’t let you want the music. Will you,
Nannie ?”

“ Is it me? Throth, it 'ud be a bad day I’d
refuse him that," replied the light-hearted girl ; !

“Then you’re a stranger in this part of the
country," said Ned Moynagh, “or you would
know that this road doesn’t go farther than three
or four hills in that direction."

“I am a stronger, as you say," he replied,

selves in those harmless but healthful ftfatfil “such asit is, he’s welcometo it wid a heart1 “and, to tell you the truth, a little on the

which constitute a considerable portion of sim- 
ple and primitive happiness. Some were wres- P
tling, some throwing the stone, whilst others i
again were engaged in the active and manly
sport of leaping; for we shonld have informed
our readers that from the lower end of Bally-
braoken a tolerany sized green stretched down
to the river that flowed pust, on the banks of
which, about fifty yards from the ford where it
was crossed, the inhabitants bleached their yarn
and household linen. Standing neatly dressed
iii-small groups were many of the village maid-
ens, some sewing and others knitting, and all
interested in the success of a brother, cousin,
or a sweetheart, as the case happened; whilst
removed ata little distance might be observed
a couple of either sex, here and there, engaged
in apparently deep and serious conversation, or
indulging in that light-hearted mirth which is
only to be found in the buoyancy of spirits that
are yet simple, and not depressed by crime.
Tempted by the smoothness of the green award,
one of the crack dancers of the neighborhood,
Ned Moynagh, now calls upon Nannie Duffy to
sing him the College Hornpipe, or Shaun Buie, or
Jackson's Morning Brush, a call which immedi-
a’tolyputa an end to the other sports and brings
‘thofyoungsters of the whole village,.male and
female, about him. Then indeed commences
the performance of the jig, reel or hornpl

mud to such living melody as has seldom n
bend to proceed from female lips. How could

anyone, however, look upon these lips and ex; my

poet anythinth music and sweetness from
Item? But now the shades of this peaceful
evening are deepening; the crows seek their
at  for the night; the

E
i
a

howl- Ind‘lasdy sure sign of approachi
twihglihthehumpf thcmipqashen'eesg

ammo» V meadow,rcminds
than, lube. thofalling honey-dew, that-ins
 'te close than} M for the
- y. ,
Thumahappy groupmompoudaeitvu
«young»on botheucs, each-remarkable
Mthatfreuhmaot‘heartandpdrityotmerah

simplicity, among thouwho peoplethe more
distant recesaeaot “idiom—Jar away among
thegreenvalcaandpustonlrctreatsot curbe-
Mhowothcyhadnotdiannor
’ Moynagh  horn-
ctSbunBuie, when a young man, up—

'a ,asin‘tact he 

otthobrldle-roadthatmuod tho
_ at a kick pace approached

’ savoanherc, myhicndal”huu.
inthatgoodéhumondandcomiotonoof
whiohnevcrhils to go directly to the

;“alight fpotcarrieaalighthcafl,
, lights-subways» 

 4 mung brighlvye‘ my? naked
“yielding-tothomh-thfuloonta-

2-...
2 willurrymy

V -’ amen, your»
whence-wid , “any-rate!" ,
“Idonft 'mit’llboahnavyburdelthen.”
replied: “ 'aean never wci My,
know—halls.th 8 M
1 " "Good, you bhoma—M‘hqhal—dovil' a
“per—faith I'm bate:——but who was this
anmwdochnloamo over!

$5.:
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a

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is

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2
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otthcm. , ,
Well," replidNed, “dilution!”

and a half." ,

“ Ah, my good friend,” said the stranger to?
Ned, “ if you had got over u. journey of near,
forty miles to—day, may be it's little dancin’ ’ud ,’
go far wid you; sowl, it's not much music you'd ‘
take out of Shaun Buie, I tell you: but come,
here goes, a heavy heart seldom combs a gray ;
head; come, a colleen,” addressing Nannie; “ I
have thribled the some tune afore now, an’ will
agin, plaise goodness. llcrc’s the way they
dance a hornpipc in my country? whish, hur-
roo 1"

He commenced, or rather was about to com-
mence, when bounding down from the village ,
came ayoung man about nineteen or twenty}
years of age. Every eye was turned on him 
with mingled delight and pride; and indeed this ‘
was by no means surprising, for we question
whether it would be easy in any country to find
so striking an instance of symmetry, strength,
activity and manly beauty, as were combined in ,
his person. ‘His hair was fair, his well—propor- ‘
tloned features radian' with youth, and his blue 1
laughing eye was a perfect globe of living
light. v , .

“A ," said the stranger, eyeing him with ad-
miration, “ here he comes that never seen
to-morrow; an' by my own song, the cock 0’
the walk for many a long stretch round the spot
I’m standing cn—~or my word‘goes for nothing:
:1qu I But now. my putty girl, for the music;
I'll ghoul him how to dance a hornpipc, any-

 

 

“,Don't be. too sure 0' that," said they—end
immediately the traveler commenced; and to do
him justice,rhe fairly eclipsed Ned Moynagh,
who was honest enough to admit himselt van-
quished. , v r

' Thamngex’sstyleotdanclnginhct' k
othiechmctcr,boingncat,easynd _ ;
hocrecked Managers, Mummy-tops that
wcrctullot fun; winked attho gilt uthuy
stood: admiring him,

«and. ‘ teco,namcd Ned Don-
" m “*8

nelly in a I
‘ ’ . thnthchom walevcr,whioh
he mx‘withxaboun

v wto annieDufly,

"hush, yourka tux-owe can’t
muaiqifwe’rc daicont,"andimm ' -,“l!'
ing her, he imprinted more than one at two
Euuonhclipcwithnuhenmyndfhumor-
ouclamiliarity,thctuhom forcedtohughas
budsthercficmwhiushebluuhodat his.

however. even cheapo“
thcmuranceofOuldNich."- ‘ " .
,Thiaaheflwhiht ' upherrichand
oopioualhah, for y" indeed shows-cele-
bntod, M'forthc idishavcling
mankd'umhhmihuminumuchuitgavc

heron opportunit of displaying to more ad- by

country; mdhowoould anyot j.



of whioh'mc ’

shanghran for the presen .”

“ How is that ?" said Ned.

“ Why you must know,” he returned, “ that
I’ve got into throulllc abit, an’ what's more, I‘m
not likely to get out of it in a hurry.”

“ Well, ” observed another, “its a good man’s
case to be introuble. How did it come about ?"

“Much the ould way," he replied; “the
Omngemen and we had a field day; we lost
one and they lost another. I did my endeay—
vors wid one o’ thvm, and the scoundrel in
ordher to punish me refused to recover; devil
a lie in it; ha, ha, ha l—Well, no matter; the
truth is, now, I am as you scenic, without a
friend to stau’ by me, or a roof to cover me;
but devil may care," said he, resuming his
spirits; “ the world’s wide, and I’m not growin’
to it—so who’s afraid I”

No more was necessary. Their sympathies
as men, and as members of the same creed
were at once engaged—in addition to that
spirit of generous hospitality which so signally
characterizes our warm-hearted countrymen.

“ Don’t say that you want either a friend or a
roof,” replied the young fellow whom we have
already described, and whose name-was Thomas
M’Mahon; “you only fought as you had a right
to do,,agninst our enemies and the enemies of
your rehgion ; an' God forbid that the man who
defend; himself .or it, should ever want a friend
to back, or a roof to cover-him." The conver»
nation then changed, and in a few minutes the
stranger become as light-hearted as before.

“Boys,” said he, ‘fthis is a fine-looking

tell me
we

m M , 

m MI“..', 0 0113113

Homag‘dh'udlcob-m “$03M. i' V

' thcothcrthh',adis-

,flaemnthanwOuld

you knew it yourselves, that'aall; how-
lien!!!

who! “the

over fortheprcunt it doesn't ‘ , there's a
time cumin."  - -
v “I ' " aaidlong lied Donnelly. “that

yauservedyourtimetoaniddlemaker,behise'
youdalcinnothin’else itseems: ifycu spoke
southatyoucould beundherstood, we might
giveyouan antiwar.” , " ' _
“Ayl” said the other,‘inhic light and easy
mambo, “it's you'thdt‘s'the alip'fin- it; the
very names-anyway you * ' .
gluon—but sure ou’r‘c a bra beauty. like
Ally Neclins'u foal; ‘ ha' "
11‘th than“ ‘ "m poi-loco:
1 we or, “new” ow.
presence anion than, he was ablelo perceive,
which'indeed e did at a globes, that honest,
pwkward Nedwu thetagand butt ethic ao-

nnhgo the na beauty. of her elastic figure, . '
andtbcvorintyofnatiooharna'whichshecet mam 3‘11"“!!! t 3.300%»
tainlypoueued. ~ retained the ,ot the 'lovro:
Thefamiliarcallofthcctillunmilkedcottl‘e, Witthauthcpfl pent.me
homvcn at lcn com lied the, maidens to immediate inth I! chver,
hurryhomc, which they ' m sur- werqnotacuianyhucwnhtfi. than“
priced and highly on by ' pleasant happily an! they had been, undead there

stringer, whose a and character the
dismissals!"he withzizgtreeof ingest fax-"tum!Icehm‘l2:0f
ing v r ' 0 port 1:, y ‘

with “uncertainty, and“

 

he asked themwheu themed swam up
Mark the mountains led. .

were few therowhodidnotci‘ve‘himmm
Iorofiginahtymmtuml.

guardiansth '

 

 

 

.oontinued with his usual bitterness of manp
.“ but yet I canread gallows in his face as plain

RODY THE ROVER.

 

 

piercing eyes, that looked upon you with glances
that were extremer keen and penetrating.

“ Begad, boys,’ said Moynagh, “ we had
betther make ourselves scarce ;' here’s an ould
divil’s clip, and if he gets his tongue at us, we‘ll
carry blisthers for a week to come."

“ His bark's worse than his bite," replied
M’Mahon; “ we'll stop and have a piece of fun
wid him."

“Let him an‘ our friend the stranger here
have a turn out," observed another of them;
“ if he dOesn’t button your lip for you, I'm not
my mother's son at all events,“ he added, ad-
dressing the other.

“It’s a. sight for sore eyes," said Ned Don-
nelly, rubbing his own at the some time “to
see him; it's now near a. twelvemonth since he
was in this part of the country."

The ludicrous coincidence between the pro.

verb and the malady with which Ned's optics

happened to be afflicted, occasioned a fresh
burst of mirth among the youngsters, in the
midst of which the old man joined them. He
stood and eyed them keenly for some moments,
his chin resting upon the crook of .his stick;
for though slight and active, he had something
of a stoop. They all turned naturally toward
him, with the exception of the stranger, who,
whether from accident or design, stood with his
face averted; whilst with one hand searching
his pockets, as if something had been lost.
The old man went over and laying the end of
the staff upon his shoulder, the other imme-
diately turned round and faced him. Some-
thing like the slightest possible start was ob-
served on the part of the old man, or at least a
more concentrated and piercing gaze at the
stranger; who, on the other hand surveyed the
new-comer with all the calmness of a person to
whom , he and his affairs were totally unknown
and indifferent.

“ So, boys," observed the old fellow, “ I see
there‘s a strange face among you. Arts, what
sky did you drop from, young man ?” he asked,

-and as he did, he slightly raised his eyebrows

with an expression that seemed sarcastic and
contemptuous.

“ From the sky that covers sweet Kilscadden,
if you know where that is.”

“Kllscaddenl I do,” replied the other; “it
sends a man to the hangman wanst a year;—
are you long on yOur way to him, avic '2’

This satiricalinquiry raised a laugh at the ex-
pense of the stranger, who replied:

“ That‘sthe way I don't travel by, and never
will, either. " ’ x

“ Such may be your own opinion,” retorted
the old man, “ but for allthat, them that follow
your steps will be apt to find themselves on it
in the long run. What name might ou carry
in the meantime, for in this part-oft ecountry
we don't like to call nicknames I”

“ That’s because you keep a civil tongue in
your head,” replied the young man, laughing] ;
“but regardin my name, if you call me ‘ y
theBover, it’ll a good ess l"

“ Very well,” said the o (1 man, “ Body the
Rover will do for the present - one at a time is
enough, you know; still I' d like to hear what
they call in Kilscadden."

‘ _ I ' a ,' ht I’d tell you,” replied the
Rover, at when e old 'fellow’s last hint had
occasioned another lau h.

“Ay, ay. boys," said" he. addressing them,
“laugh away ; take care it'won’t be laugh today
and cry‘to-morrow wid you. Here’s a lad will
be apt to bring some of you to Swimman’s ac-

tanoe; I'm no great scholar myself," he
er,

as apiok-axe ;" so saying, he shook his stick at
the stranger, by way, as it'were, of a warning,
and entered one of the houses, leaving the young
fellows highly amused at his sallies, and appar-

‘entlynoneofthem moresothan the stranger

“flotsam  i for

f‘ s ' spt aqua its?" he

asked, laughinvg, “ for if he doesn’t, his tongue

belies him. horis he, and what's his name ?"
“He’s just what you see him,” re

M'Maho “acrabbed ould devil, that goes

about from place to place, and from house to

house; stoppin'a week wid this one, and a
week wid that one; and sometimes he’ll
take to a distant part of the kingdom, and
we won’t see him for ayear may be. His name's
Antony Tracy; but nobody can say exactly
where he's from, or what he was; for if any
one should axe him a question he'd scald them
wid that tongue of his. The name he’s best
known by is, ‘ Ticklin Tony,’ in regard to the
bittherness of his words; bekaise every word
fiom his lips is only another name for a blis-
t er." »

Rover, laughing, “ you might as well shake
hands wida red hot poker as spake to him; wid
every touch he takes the skin away.”

Having uttered these words in that light and
easy spirit, which appeared to be so perfectly
constitutional in him, he and young McMahon
entered the house of the latter or rather of his
father, where he was received lvith a degree of
honest warmth and welcome, which could, per-
haps, not be paralleled out of our own green
island. ' ‘ '

CHAPTER III.
avn. COMMUNICATION.

Tan family of Brian M’Mahon, into which
Rody the Rover has been just received, consisted
of himself, his wife, one son—the fine young
fellow whom we have alread described, ' and a
, daughter, namedAlice; a gir every way worthy
,of standing beside her handsome and manly
' brother. She was tall and elastic in figure, and
in addition to the possession of a complexion
exquisitely transparent and youthful. her face
was remarkable for a sweetness of expression
that was perfectly irresistible. Her, dark eyes
flashed With that light which youth and utter
freedom from guile only can give; and her
smile displayed a set of teeth, which could not,
especially when surrounded by two such laugh-
ing lips, be looked upon with indiflerence.
Her beautiful brown hair was so abundant and
long, that when shaken out'she could almost
conceal her whole person with it. In conse-
quence of but slight exposure to the sun or
wind, her skin possessed a delicacy of tint, that
gave naturally a gentle and lady-like air to her
carriage and whole appearance; her hands were
soft, small, and white, and beseemed the station
of a woman of rank, more than they did the
daughter of an humble peasant. Altogether
there was some irresistible charm about her,
the power of which, every one who came with-
in her influence was forced to admit. In diet,
it was that blending together of dignity and in.
nocenoe in‘ herbeautiful person. which at once
fills the soul with admiration and love.»

Brian M’Mahon himself was a fine specimen
of the old Milesian. His features wero’ampie;
his forehead lofty ;, and his finely turned head
was stripped of hair, except behind, where it
fell in long white ringlets over- his shoulders.
His face, whilst it gave unequivocal indications
of health, was shadedwith a slight expression
of melancholy; and in his eye, which was clear
and placid, might be read the mild evidences
of benevolence and feeling. His wife was due
of those simple-minded, but earnest women,
who believe. that the whole see c of female
duty lies within the range of omestio life.
She left not ‘ duty that was oomeeted with
it undischarged; and so little had she seen of
the world, or been tainted by its spirit, that we
believe in our souls, she was absolutely uncon-
scious of her own virtues; or of the meekness
and benignity withiwhich she passed h
the path of humble life. Such is the family in
which our lively friend, Body the Rover; is at
present domesticated; and in which he' is re-
ceived with a feeling of kindnessthat did honor
to their hearts; afeeling which prompted them
to‘ree'eive him, because he was a stranger, and
in trouble. ‘

The next morning he was up by daybreak,
and beinmked ‘by his young friend," with

plied‘ whom he he arose so early, he
replied, that suc  “butdonot

 

you disturb yourself on my acooun " he said,

/

 

“ Faix, it's myself can b'lieve you," said theJ

w_.. ,  .. . ., .,.,_+, y,
“Ican'tlieinbedafterlawake,solwilltake :'
a stroll out and look at the counthry." He 30— . 1
cordingl did so, and gently closing the un-
barred oor after him, he sallied out to the
streets, and, as if in imitation of the early song-
sters in the glen behind the village, he broke
out into song, and commenced “ Willy Reilly,"
which he sang at the top of his lungs, and with
an excellent voice. He was proceedin down
the street on this melodious stroll, looking with 1/ r

a keen and searching lance at the houses' on «
each side of him, until at length he heard a ‘1
tap or two at a particular window on his left. 1"
The window was one of those small dia- "
niond paned ones, which are sometimes , a
found on the property of those landlords ii
who identify themselves with their tenantry, " V
and think it a duty to promote their prosperity ’
and happiness. This opened on hinges, as most ‘
of them do, and as Rody drew nigh, the thin .
face, and keen eye of Tickling Tony Were thrust . " iv
out, as if their owner awaited with impatience
‘for his approach.

“ Go own to the glen below,” whispered the
old fellow, “ and when you enther it from the
road to your left hand, keep walkin’ on till you ll
meet a Spring Well, wid a broad stone beside it; if
wait for me there." 5

Body merely nodded, and immediate] re- .‘ :,
suming ‘f Willy Reilly," was proceeding own ‘
the street, when he was encountered by Red
Moynagh, who had admitted his defeat at the
hornpipe so good-humoredly the evening be-
fore. Now, Rody saw at a glance, that his g;
short interview with Tony could not, from his . v '
position, have escaped him. He accordingly
ceased the song, and beds the other good- I.
morrow. ' ‘ ' ,

“Ha, ha, ha! what do you think '9” he said, ' ’ e
” but that ould—what's this you call him ?-—
the bitther ould blade that we wor spaking to .
last night"——- ‘ '

“ Ticklin Tony. ” : ~'

“ The same; well, what do you think, but
'the ould codger opened the window, an’ makes
a signto me to come to him; of ooorsel went,
and'when he got me near him, he w ' to
me, as if it was for life and death: ‘ Will on
answer me the thruth for wanst,’ says he, ‘ I
ax you a question '3’ " ,

“ ‘ Honor bright,’ says I, ‘ not a doubt of it? i
I never was able to tell a lie in my life.‘ - i

“ ‘ Is that,’ so the bitther ould divll, ‘ the n \
famous tune that t t6 ould cow died widl’-—an’ he '
drew back wida grin, an' shut thewlndyin my
face; ha, ha, hal 80, God bewid you, an"take
care of yourself.” ‘

\ 4:13,;

‘ .'Mm=w

x—r—‘E‘Ed

\
.1 3"?» '

ram—3“}; - ~ ......_g--

“ och, rise up Willy Reilly, an’ come alongst ! 
wid me," etc. ' - ' 3 ‘ i' l
, “Fair, it's yourself that has the light heart," E
observed Ned aloud; “if one is to. judgeb? . 1
what they see, the world’s no trouble to your» ’

The morning was beautiful, and the burly

breezes were loaded with the'f , ceo'f‘the _ ‘ ’g
season. The earth was coded‘ hl Wt," ,_ ' .’
there ‘was all the male y, and bind fiend ‘ ' , i‘
bustle, that characterize the feathered ’ "on? ,. , :
and that delicious hour going on about~ (m; ‘ _
whilst in .the glen. below, whichwas any ,1?
covered with the ,wild copes-wood, I to 'v '
such p c‘es. the eye was gratified  v
iads o dew-dro s that ghstened an qn' tiered r ,' , 
' l

l

inv'tli: or is “in showers off’thpppmnches,
can u n em,ors n 11 fun. 2‘:
tive element}: if its little malice: widen ‘ ‘ , i a
joy and rapture that seemed to an all invited . g E
ntture around it. He turned to the! _ all he .' i
had been directed,’and following’ the" op» ? 
tine path of the river, soonfduhd bimbo "at V .
the broad stone mentioned by Ticklinti‘on . a. ', ' i
In a few minutes the old man, who , id’s " . . ‘ i
by ashorter path down one side of the on, . . .
joined him, and both looked at eaoh'blhsr , l
earnestly, but with such a gaze. that's  ‘ -
tor would have found it a dimcult task to glen- , » , ‘
mine .whether they did so in friendship or" en-

mit . ' ' fl  ’ -
. “yWell.” said the old man. ‘ "you're, not . V, . ;

hanged yet, I see."
“ o,’ replied the Rover;

 

“imam, _ ‘ 
believe yonreyes." , i .
“I sometimes think,” replied the other, ’

 

' I

BODY THE ROVER.

 

 

l-that if I seen you dangling from the gibbet,
I'd scarcely believe them ; but at all events, if
you take my advice, you will get out of the
country as fast as you can. "

“It's easily said," replied the other, “but
not‘so easily done ; as it is, I am not in much
danger here ; besides, you can’t imagine that I
feel anxious to go to a strange country with
empty pockets. "-

z “ Why, is your blood-money gone so soon ‘2”

“It’s nearly spent,” said the other ; “but in
the meantime, don‘t speak just so loud, es-
pecially when you happen to allude to that
subject ; they say walls have ears, and so may
bushes."

“An evil conscience goes nearer the mark
than an ould proverb like that," replied the

old man bitterly: “as for my part, I think,

there’s a fate over you, and a hard one, or you
. wouldn’t lie on Irish ground thishnany a month.
You are dancin’ about the gallows, and you'll
get it yet. Faith, you just put me in mind of
a moth, that won’t be warned, but keeps
wheelin’ and buzzin’ about, until it knocks
itself against the candle, where it sticks in the
blaze, and is burned at last. Take my word for
it, you’ll knock yourself against a hangman, and
will stick in his noose in the long run. One
escape was enough, I think.”

“ You talk without knowing what you say,”
replied the Rover; “I am not acting by myself
now; this is no solitary speculation of myown,
I can assure you.”

“ It’s a bad speculation then, or you wouldn’t
.have ahand in it. You war ever and always
prone to mischief. If God bestowed good gifts
uponyou, you know the use you made of them:
and when your father gave you the education
he did, it’s little he thought, or dreamed, how
you would use it.”

“ Ididn’t .come here to be 1ectured,’7 said
Body, “ but you know how long it is since you
have seen Ellen. I myself have reason to think
that the other madam would leave the country
on receiving a certain sum of money; but at
the same time. I know she is treacherous and
vindictive, and perhaps only wishes to get me
in herpower."

“ Don’t trust her,” replied the old fellow;
“ if she ever does, you will go beg/mu,“ and no
mistake,“ all.” '

“ I doubt so,” replied the Rover ; “ but can
you tell me where she is now ?"

“ No,~Icannot ; but I have reason to suppose
that she’s on your trail. However, devil’s cure
to you; why did you”——-

“ her, you are about to say; why, be-
cause I could not otherwise have come , at the
money. Nothing short of the regular forms
and ceremonies would serve either her or her
 the. old fellow—so what could

“Ah 1" replied the old man, “ you're a
blessed bird—two wives at your time of life;
m escape from the

money of one man’s ife !—-you romise well.
But tell me what brings on to is nei hb’or-
ow ;—but at what

hood? Nothing good, I

is it?“ ‘ . .

f‘ That’s what no man living shall ever knoyv
from me; but in general, I may'say to you
who know so much of me, that there is a con-
spiracy abroad 5. ainst the Welfare and happi-
ness of the peop e." '

“0f the people! And who in the name of
heaven isatthe head of it; or at the bottom
of it, for that's a beither word?"

' "I may tell you that too :«well, then, the
poo? themselves. " ‘ " p

" ut, man! don‘t pass that on me; the peo«
ple aren't fools."

' f'Are they not? well, perhaps so; but in the
meantime, we do notflnd them philosophers.”
’ "I would rather you‘d spake plainer,
James - I’m not up to you ?"

' “I know that; but as to what the con-

spiracy is, I don‘t think it will ever come to
light. It is enough for us that the people are
very credulous and easily led; we, conse-
quently, knowing that, are able to make them

 

* Be transported.

allows; and the blood- ,

 

our dupes, whilst they think that they are
about to work wonders.’
“ And what end have you in view by all this ?”
“ What object? why, is it nothing to be able
to say that the Irish are a disaffected, riotous,
unscrupulous, and blood-thirsty people,

whom common laws cannot restrain? Is it‘
nothing to give the country abad name, and l

totake such measures as may keep it up ;—‘

that is the bad name, I mean ?” 
“But listen, James, and answer me truly; ‘y

—is this a system that’s going on now ?"

“Yes; and which will be kept alive by thel

“ Ay, if we ever meet in this worl "

“ And if all that's said and read be true, we’re
pretty certain to meet in another—where we
won’t run the risk of being frozen, at allevents,
ha, ha, ha l—Good-by, I say. I must go and
assume the tongue and character by which I
pass here—~that of Body the Rover."

He sprung oif the stone on which he had
been standing, and with his usual light and easy
gait, retnwed his steps to the village.

“ There you go," said the old fellow to him—
self, “and I’m not sure but I’ll—well”— he
paused a few moments, whilst he looked after

enemies 0f the People for_ X9111“? We Plugs" in : him—~“ it would be only an act of .justice,” be.
such a. way that some indiVidual Victim is first continued; “however, 1'11 Mk of it"

pitched upon; we then initiate him, but under 1

He then returned by the short path, ‘up the

a solemn seal of secrecy; then furnish him with l side of the glen, and reached the house in which
all that is necessary for our purpose—own 1 he had stopped for the night,

with arguments when he seems to stand in need
of them. He then goes abroad, furnished with
his arguments and his papers, and in a very

short time he is, without being at all in the,
secret, one of our most useful agents, as are all l
those to whom he communicates the infection.” »

“But, James, answer me one thing; what is l

this conspiracy that you speak of~—and what ,‘
are you in it; that is, what rank do you hould ‘
in it ?" ,

“The origin of this conspiracy against the
people will not, I think, be easily come at; and l
for this reason, because it seems to clothe itself 1
with the prejudices of the people themsolves. '
How then can they suspect it to be unfriendly to
their own interests? We make them, I say, our L
own agents, and I believe in my soul that if any

man told them to-morrow that their prejudices .
l

were used by their enemies, in this way, against
themselves, they would not believe him; so
admirably are we working the system.”

“But, as I asked before, what are you, James,
in this system-or, rather in the spreading of
this system?”

“Whisper, uncle, and I will tell you—I AM
AN mssnr."

“ And what is that, James?”

“ person that is sent out to do a particular
thing.’ -

“ And, James, may I ask who sent you?”

“ You may, but that is what neither you nor
any other person shall ever know. I am not
one of those that would cut their own throats
to oblige another. As it is, perhaps I have
gone farther than I ought; and, at all events,
you are in possession of a sufiicient number of
my secrets.”

“And you know mine, don’t you? so far
we’re aiquil.” ‘

“So far we are, Igrant; but now thereis one
thing I wish you to do. If you see Ellen, tell
her you have reason to know that I am not, nor
have been, in this country during the last six
months. You may say, you know a person
who saw me in England. Put on a little mys-
tery and she will believe you.” -

“ And about the other '1”

“ As to her, you can’t interfere there, you
know; Sheis ignorant of any connection be-
tween us. No, no—I make too many doubles
to give her a chance. I change my dress and
my name as often as a playlactor; but indeed,
I like it. It’s a devilish pleasant life, and» full
of fun and adventure. ” * .

v ‘9 I know,” said the old fellow, “ that when
cneccmes to be used to it, itisnotaneasy
thing to leave it of. . If I was to settle-down to
one particular spot, I would, soon kick the
bucket. Do you intend to make a long stay
here ? ” ‘

“I don’t know yet; until my tank’s accom-
plished; be that soon or late.” .

“ You can’t say where you‘ll goto from this ?”

"‘Not exactlyybut I believe to the county
Leitrim ; may be, I may meet you there.”

~ “Well, now I must go; for I wouldn’t wish
we should be seen together; but wanst more I
sayagin. if you, wish to keep a safe skin, leave
the country, for you know you’re far from bein’
safe." ‘ .

“Never mind that ; but take care of yourself.
The country folks are beginning, to stir; so

1
i
> twenty years of age, or so; although in reality

altogether changed his natu _
was 'sdent, meditative, and gloomy; sametimes.
he sighed deeply, and occasionally appeared to

 

Igoodpby till we meet again.”

/

Rody the Rover was apparently but five-and»

numbering about thirty. - His dress, which was
that of a country buck, consisted of a white
caster hut,- a green silk neckerchief, green
sprigged waistcoat, cassimere breeches, white
thread stockings, and “turned pumps." This
was a showy and a taking garb, and designed
altogether for the ladies, who are fond of gaudy
colors. He took care, hOWever, not to go over-
drcssed, lest he might throw too great a dis.
tauce between himself and the villagers. He
confined himself, therefore, to a proper me-
dium, just assuming as much smartness in his

i wardrobe as established that degree of superi—

ority over them which he intended to claim and
exercise without giving oifense. In a few days
his arrival in Ballybracken created quite a sen-
sation in a small way; and this was but natural
in aremote village such as it was. We know,
however, that where there is human nature there
is also curiosity, and wherever there is curi-
osity women will be found peeping somewhere
near the premises. 011 the occasion in question,
the females of the village were quite on the qui
vice as to his history, pedigree, place of residence
and all the other particulars in which the sex
feel interested.

“ Who is that good-looking young man that.

stops in Brian M’Mahon’s, can anybody tell ?
Where is he from, and what is 'he doing here ?
I wonder is he married ?-”

“I don’t think he is, for he has not 8. mar—
ried look.” '

“Well, dear me, who or what is he at all, can
any one tell '8”

To all which, the same reply was given :
“Nobody knows."

Body, for two or three days after his domes--

tication with the M’Mahons, laéppeared to have

experience great distress. At intervals, how.
ever, he seemed to be heme away b the force
of his vivacious temperament, an
everything disagreeable. These contrasts,

whilst they deepened the mystery that was about.

him, also occasioned a much stronger sympathy

'to be felt for his position. The benevolent,

spirit of Brian M’Mahon'was deeply interested
inhis apparent suii‘erings; and his kind.th
wife treated him as if he had been ason just re-
turned after along absence. ',

_“I’m so to see you so, much castdown,”
said the 3 .man; “an’ I hope there’s nothing,
so very bad in yourease as tomakeyou Ira the
way you do. Don’t, however, let the notion.
that you are any trouble to us, giveyouxuneasi-

ness, bekaise we treat you jist as wed wish our

own son to be treated in a strange place",
~" Sure, after all, it’s but natural for him to be
cast down," observed his wife; “do you think

that Tom here, if he was lacedas the poor boy 4

is, farfromhis own, co beaisyinhismind,
or avoid frettin’? Still, acushla, keep your
heart up, for sure if a warm welcome can be of
any service to you—yon have it. Is your
methutfim’ ?i’ " plied
‘osincewasaorson,re ..,
once more gliding into ghe dialect of the neopla-
“ God pity you then. my poor young man."

i

 

character. He ‘

to forget,

 

l
E
l

1‘
on

 

 

RODY THE ROVER.

 

 

 

 

she returned, “for now, in your distress, you
don’t know what a mother’s tendherncss an’ love
is."

“Tut,” said Tom, “divil a thingnils him,
mother, only frettin’ afther his sweetheart.”

“ Well, an’ even that isn’t unraisonable, if
he's fond of her," she replied.

Rody sighed deeply, and said, as he glanced
at Alice, “I left no sweetheart behind me, to
fret afther, or to fret for, me; at laist none that
I know." .

“ May be he’s married," observed Brian, “ an’
that it’s the wife he’s frettin’ afther. Are‘ you
single or double, young man ? ”

 

 

him for it; adding, “you know it’s a bad and
sinful habit, Tom, and if you accustom yourself
to lay it aside you will never miss it.”
We need scarcely say that these instances of
piety and morality were communicated by Tom
,’ to his family with a kind of pride, and that they
,' succeeded in creating a degree of respect for the
iltover, such as our readers, knowing as they
ado the upright (principles of that family, may
feawily understan .
The ltover’s tact was indeed admirable, and
1 his conduct consistent. Whilst under M’Mahon’s
, roof, for instaiwe, he was, as we have said,
silent and depressed; but no sooner did he go

“ The pleasurc of bein’ double is yet before 3 abroad and mingle with the young people of the

1

me," he replied, “and a pleasure it must be to
sich as can marry them they wish.” . i

This was accompanied by another rapid but ;
furtive glance at Alice. who was by no means I
so simple , as not to understand both the glance
and the allusion perfectly. She felt slightly
embarrassed, it is true; but as such oomph-
ments are very frequent in rustic life, she at-
tached no peculiar importance to it. /

“At all events," said Mrs. M’Mahou, “ sofar
as anything we can do for you goes, let your
mindbe aisy; you’re welcome to stay wid us
till you get your business settled, and I hope
that may be to your satisfaction.”

“ I needn’t say," he replied, “ that' I am
thankful for your kindness, for how can I ever
forget it? But to tell you the truth," be added,
with a third glance at Alice, equally significant,
“ I am sorry—and I fear I may have raison to
be sorry, that ever I came to this neighborhood
at all."

“To this neighborhood!” exclaimed Brian;
“arra, how is that ?"

“In the first place/"he replied, “I have a
large'farm, thank God, at a cheap rent, too;
and you know at this saison of the year, it
doesn’t do for a man to be away from his busi-
ness—~nor indeed at any saison."

“Well,” said M’Mahon, “ you're right there,
sure enough.”

“ Ay,” added Mrs. M‘Mahon, “and it's credi- ;
table to him to speak as he does, bekaise it ‘
shows a thrifty mind, along wid a1 ."

“But,” asked Tom, “ how to this neighbor-
hood, more than any other '1’"

He sighed again, and stole another and more
tinder glance still at Alice, but only replied:
“ As to that, it’s a thing I can’t for the present
speak of; but I hope the day will soon come,
when I both may and can. All I can say is,
that, somehow, I am not happy."

“ Tut," said Brian, “you make too much
entirely of the scrape you're iii—and think too -
much about it; come man, keep yourheart up, i
for frettin's but bad 
ha i ha 2” I

Young M’Mahon, who was generosity itself,
became so much attached to him that era the
lapse of a week, no two could be more intimate.
They made each other the de ositarles of their
mutual secrets, went out an in together, apd
in fact were inseparable. Tom's opinion of 
amounted to admiration itself; and indeed this
is scarcely to be wondered at for Such was
Body’s conduct, both as to religion and morals,
that a much more I experienced and acute ob-
server than Tom might have fallen into the same
in: ression. ' “

the very first night, lfor instance, which he
‘spent under the hospitable roof of Brian
M'Mahon, he evinced a very gratifying proof of

iet .

p “yYou’ll excuse ‘me a trifle,” ,he said, address-
ing'Tom, who, in the novelty of the scene, had
forgottento so his prayers before going to bed,
“but the but is, that I’ve made it a rule ever
since I had any sinse at all, to ofl‘er up afew
fits are every night and mornln’. It takesu but
' a time you know, and is sure to bring own
a. blessin’ upon one, sooner or later; an' if
we're not rewarded in this world, sure we will
be in the next." ,

Upon other occasions, it Tom happened to
let fly an oath, which was sometimes the case,

was certain, in an easy cheerful way, re-

 

village, than he forgot all his melancholy, and
once more assumed the good-humored gayoty
of what appeared to be his natural character.

“ As for my little devotions,'Tom," said be,
“you see they don't prevent me from bein'
pleasant now an’ then; but indeed, I’m natur—
ally light—hearted, an’ it’s only when I think of
things that sometimes trouble me, an’ fret
about my farm, “that I get any way down-
.hearted; still, as regards my little devotions, I
don’t wish the world to know any thing about
them. Our neighbors here would scarcely be-
lieve that a Brinoge like me ever thinks of a
prayer; but that's only another proof thatvwe
ought never to judge by appearances.”

As yet, however, the Rover hadstudiously
avoided referring to anything whatever con-
nected with his mission; at the same time, Tom
M’Mahon could observe, that he fixed his eye
on him from time to time, with a long and
steady gaze, in which there appeared a mingled
expression of benevolence and interest. Some-
times, too, he would appear on the point of
communicating to him some matter of impor-
tance, but he always stopped short and checked
himself, as if against his will, though clearly
anxious to make the communication. This set
his companion’s mind ageing; his curiosity
was excited, and _ a‘ new interest awakened,
which furnished him with food for speculation,
morning, noon, and night. This was
what the Rover wanted; his design ‘ng to
cause the first overture for confidence on the
subject of his curiosity, or speculation, to pro~
ceed from M'Mahon himself. Thiswould make
his communications to him on the desired sub-
ject appear perfectly natural, as being made al-
together at his own solicitation; a circumstance
which must necessarily relieve him from (all
to .

suspicion of design, in what be pro .
es

Such was the relative situation of 0th

when Sunday arrived; and as it wasthe first since ,

his appearance in the village, be selected the
Chape green as the scene where he wished to

itchen to your meat—1m : idiotinguish himself; his object being to excite

as much interest amongst the young men of the
arish as possible, and to create for-himself a
ittle circle of fame, that might makehim at
least the ench theme of conversation among
them. or this he was admirably adapted.
Time had just knit and improved his figure,
which was naturall good, to the utmost; and
his evident relish or banterwith the ple
had sharpened and improved his wit, , gave
to his humor all the zest which iscommuni-
cated by a varied vocabulary of standard
aphorisme, which, while they seem to be the
result of invention, are in reality only an act of
1.116111%“ might be expected, his success
on the pol green was complete ; the crowd
about him were in roars of laughter at'his jokes
and anecdotes; one of which we shall relate,
in order to show our readers how dextroualy,
he could suit them to the time, place, and occa-
sion. .
“There lived," said be, “near the town of

low, between knave and fool, by name J cmmy
Bellow. Now Jammy, you‘ must know, was a

cat man for attendin' all public laces where
t ere was any fun goin’ torrid. anccs,‘ wed-
din's, races, fairs and markets war all sartin to
have Jammy in attendance"; but above all,
nothin’ in life plaised him half so much as the
‘ Walk-Day' ofthe Orangnemen—the bloody vil-

ecisely i

Balsceddam a fool, or a kind of half-Witter] fel~ ,

is not-far when we’ll furnish their colors, for
them'; that is, you see, if we find the orange,

keep them; ‘bliw enough they'll look before
We’re done wid them-much ? ha, ha, ha I"

We may as Well observe here that he always
led the laugh at his .own gokes, knowing very
well, we presume, the in ucncc which asuc-
ccssful and contagious laugh is certain to have
over others on similar occasionh.

“Well,” he proceeded, “as I was so in"; it
happened that on cWalk-Day J emmy was in great;

lcc, along with the Ornngemen, decked out in
llits of ribbons and orange lilies, and as proud
out of them, the craturc, as a paycock.
When the procession was over the all met, or
at any rate the nobs among them de,lIl the head
inn of Bulscaddam, that was kept by a man who
was related, on the wrong side, to the owner of
the town. The gentleman, to tell the truth,
was Bill Cook’s father, for that was the inn.
keeper’s name—undo. very good Bill he was all
but the stamp—you persavc,—eh? ha, ha, be!
So, begad, when they were assembled in the
dinin'-room, one of them spies Jcmmy out of
the wind , an' risin' it up he calls him‘in; here’s
Jemmy ellew, said he, an' we must take a
piece of fun out of him. Accordingly J emm
came in. “ Well, Mr. Bellow,” says he, “l
hope your reverence is wall."

“I’ll be betther when I get my dinner," says
Jemmy, “ and your honor will be worSe.” .

“,How is that, Jemmy ? " '

“Why,” says the fool, “ I’ll ait my dinner
an’ keep sober; but you'll ait your dinner, an'
get dhrunk.” ‘ ‘ - '

“ So this brought the laugh ainst ould
Cook, an' Jammy was clapped on. 6 back for
the anSWer." ‘ .

“ Come, Mr. Bellew,” said Cook ‘ “as
you’re our Grand Chaplain to-day, I 'nk_ it's
but right you should say a Mass for us." ‘ ' ,

“Have you the robes for me," axed Jammy,
“for you know Ican’t say Mass widoutjhc
robes. ” ‘ 1' '

“And on must have them, Jemm ,” says
Cook; ” are they are,” says he, han 'n’ him
his beautiful silk scarf and apron, “ clap those
about you, and pelt us 011' a Mass as fast as you
can." ‘

“ You must all come to thekitchen then,”
says Jemmy, "for I couldn't say Mass unless
there’s a fire.” ,

‘1‘ Well an’ cod, the were on for a spree 'at
all events, an in a rig t glood vein for it, you
see, bekase the most o't em war 
at the time." ’ .

“But”, says J emmy, “ I’ll not say Mass unless
you promise to make me a collection, and you'll

ave a charity sarmon for your money.“ ,

“Bravo,” ,eyahcuted, “well done.,'.’lernmy;,
you must, have the collection; so come,“ now, .
an' show us what a Mass is, and the 'collet‘iion
youshallhave.” , ' _ 1““, 
“Var well, down the went m.t,,é_.kit«bbih
where there: was a mung? are, wid n'.big,,p9t
on it, an‘ in the pot‘a thunderin' lump doom»
beefthat was boilin' for their dinnerjmcropa
the mouth of the pot there was lying at ladle that
would houldatlaist_ball+gdlon,,; , , _

“Now, gimlmnm,",sayldemmy, ,“L hope
you’ll attind to your devotions in a . "
manner—especially. if youwilh .tc homfihc
pro or benefit of my yam ; my]: hope. you
will?" says he very erly. ,He they poison
the silk scarf that Cook had given him,fud '

made as“ he was going through Mona, 
fellow enjoyed all this you may be sum, cn'
were in great 1911 when Jammy turns round,
and says, " ow, giotlemin, for the collec-
tion.” . . .. \
“What collection, yours-sail?" ‘ a (look
“ we promised you no collecti flame“
ofknaveryiathis?" ‘ . . ,_\
“Very troll, gintlcmin," says Jeram ; “at
all eviutoI must finish Mus, an? u , owl
can’t do that widcut givin’ yez my leuin’,uan'
a rinklin’ o the hol wearer.” He, accord-
mg y seized the big 19. 19, an’ before on could
wink, had the villains almost scald to death

with the boilin’ broth; so that such a Walk- 1.

 

 

plotewith infection and good humor. to check

'lains; but never mind, t air real do is comin’
Wish—eh? ha, ha, ha! no hi h, the‘day

Dayof torture an’ agony the rascals never put

we'll make them find the ‘blue, an' to that \ve’ll “

a...”

l =1?!

 

‘g....

wank, 

-.-‘;-5—

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i
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;<£2:;_

ii...

w-..__; w j" >-._,:..._n.4.

1A;-

 

.m.

x. ‘

ROD? THE ROVER.

 

 

in from that to this. Their faces, and hands,
and bodies, were bliethered in such a way that
you'd hardly know a man 0‘ them for ufort-
ni ht after. As the last batch was makin’ OE
“ 'intlcmen," says Jammy, as he discharged
the ladle on them, “ won‘t you wait till I finish
Mass an“ give you a little more 0‘ the holy
wather, ah? ha. ha, ha!" When they were
one, he took off the silk scarf an' apron, an’
cake at them. “ By Johnny Mack,” says be,
for that was his oath, “ by Johnny Mack, I think
you want a touch 0' the holy wuther as much
as your masther ;” and wid that he dips them

both in the 0t. and left them there to be
purified. “ here '01: are," says Jammy,
“ ' William an’ , and by my sowl," says

i be, “it’s long since our Mujcsty" gotabclly-

£111 of corn-beef at all'events, eh? ha, ha, ha i”

‘ In short, the comic out of his face, and the

easy drollery of his winks and 3(‘Slllrt‘fl, wore

suc as few could resist. So (let'ply were these }
felt by a people who are natumlly humorous, ,
that even uring the performance of Mass, there 1
were many who, on thinking of them, could not
prevent themselves from allowing them to min-
gle with their devotions. .

OurRover now deemed it right to commence
o rations alittle more decidedly ; although his

vnnces were still made with due caution.
Acting with all the skill of an intelligent hus-
bandman, he set about repr the soil, be-
fore he should put down e crop. Accordingly,
our readers are not to suppose that he confined
himself, or the preparations necessary for his
8 stem, to the mere village of Ballybmcken.
lilo such thing. He shot out to different parts
of the parish; radiated wherever fun was to be
had, or mirth created; even to a distance of
several miles. Dances beganto multiplihwakcs
were more numeroust attended; hur' g and
foot-ball matches were made, and card-playing
introduced. Mutton, and leaves, and whisky,
were tgambled for at spoil-five, or raflied for
with 'ce. In short, such a series of social
amusements, were got up, as were calculated,
first, to corrupt the moral principles, and bring
them to the most appropriate condition for the
negation of crime; and secondly, with aview
of owing of his own accomplishments. Hie

.  accordingly increased astonishingly.
a

ort time, the whole parish rang with
the fame of Body the Rover, for he had public—
1y assumed, and was proud of the name; know;
ing that it was a passport to their good feeling
and hospitality. In the meantime, the command
uiet spirit of the whole country begun to
e. Rody was the best dancer that ever
was seen in the place ;no such singer existed ;
nor had ever any man such a variet of sedi-
, tioua and white-boy songs.‘ Heconl leap one-
nnd-twenty feet backwards and forwards; had
beaten long George Sharpe at his favorite me
on the car a ; managed and rode oung gliom
Gene‘s colt, Satan the Second, t nobody
«could up or ride but his to ; and
‘ boxed theConnaughtman, at Bob ‘ ey's wake
'better than lon Sam Soolaghan, that was
' ncvcrbeaton‘atit ore. Thctruth iatbencwaa
‘ no and to his accomplishments, and no limits
to the celebrity the gained him-in that and the
,Ildlghboring paris es, wherehls-lhme was ab-
solutely lost in the distance.
 —Of course the young Epic of both sexes
1' burned to get a 8! be of ' far-famed, admira-
"blc’Girlchton of umble life, and to witness
‘Mcwd‘eata and prowess. The young women,
-’ Mag of his praises so loud and‘ incessantly
sounded by their brethren, thought ‘of him by
v'd’cy and dreamt of him by hi ht, and many of
I them, on the principle 0 “ cal Malone," fell
in love with him beforehand, in order to save
“time and trouble when they should see him.
uence ‘wus, that dances and other

i m ' o amusement multiplied in a septu-

‘ “ plan 0' '; to which the young folks, male and.

1 female, flocked from unp ‘ outed distances,
v all «for the sake of etting "the full of their
'l'ioaa the phrase; is, of the celebrated Body

ver. ‘ ‘ V ' '

-- ‘2.  yet, such is the generous confidence of

'-,. .“

 

 

! M was cnorlllya picturoot While-14h. mm
on the Orange rigour-ls. or aprons. ‘

 

the misrepresean Irish that whilst this man
was, in fact, the topic of, general conversation,
thoue who admired him, so much knew no
earthly circumstance connected with him, ex-
cept as they believed, “that the poor boy was
in trouble;” but we mostly find that those who
have experienced most suffering themselves,
are the first to sympathize with it in others.

Rody felt that everything was now ripe for
his project. He had quietly introduced, with-
out taking a direct or open part in them him-
self, gambling and drinking, and night dances,
or rustic balls, at which whisky was given to the
females, as well' as to the men. Having thus,
as it were, laid the foundation of his stern, he
felt that the time had come for beginning to
erect the superstructure. He unquestionably
was, in point of situation and character, in an
excellent condition to set abOut it. Whilst se—
cretely, butin the apparent spirit of harmless
fun and amusement, he left scarcely anything
undone to injure their morals, he yet contrived
by his conduct in M’Mahon's family, to sustain
a high reputation for morality and religion: the
circumstance of his private attention to devotion
was soon known through the whole parish.
This not only caused them to 1' act, as well as
to admire him, but it also comp etely disarmed
them of those suspicions, which are sometimes
attached to strangers, who attempt to mingle
themselves with the business or amusements of
the people. '

One Sunday morning, a little after breaksast,
Body and Tom M'Mahon were sitting, one on
each side of the hearth, the former enga in
reading the “Seven Penitential Paalmc,’ with
much apparent devotion. Having concluded
this pious exercise, he gazed in his usual mys.
terious manner upon his companion, and ap—
peared to feel as if a matter of considerable im-
portance and dificulty occupied his mind, and
that: this matter, whatever it meant, was in
some degree connected with young M’Mahon.
At length he drew‘ a long breath, and exclaimed,
evidently in a mood of abstraction :

“ I will—in the name of goodness, and of our
persecuted counthry—J will—forif any one de-
serves it, he, does.” .

“ Ha, ha, hal—wWhat inthe name 0’ wondher
are you spakin’ about?" asked M’Mahon,
movedto mirth by his obvious absence of mind;
—“ parseouted counthryl Parsecuted or not,
you have it all to yourself, at any rate.”

“All what! ” replied Body, “ what do you
mane, Tom ? Whose talkin’ about parseouted

‘counthry? " and he looked at him with a face of

wonder which would deceive any, man. Tom
then explained to him the cause of his mirth,
and repeated the words he had just, in his
opinion, so unconsciously uttered. Rody again
drew a lung breath, and after a considerable
pause, exclarmed, with his forefinger still in the

prayer-book: “Ah, Tom, it’s aisy to be a
friend to that poor persecuted counth ; but
then it’s not every man that's worthyto so."

“How is that?" said the other; “ I‘ don’t
wellIundei-al’and the ."

“I know ou don’t," replied the Rover, “ an'
the more's the , pity. However, this is no place
for'what I want to say to you. Come and take
a walk up the river. I think,” he w ' red,
so as not to be heard by any of. the ‘ —" I
think the time’spcme for me to speak out to
you; but I can't say as much, for anyone else in
the neighborhood.

“Very well,” replied Tom, “ with all my
heart. We a glorious mornin’ at all events, the
Lord be praised!” '

Blpdy, ascordingly, put the manual in tihis
poo et, an accom 'ed b his unsuspec ng
companion, prooeegztlll up the mountain river,
inorder to take the first cautious and charac-
teristic steps in opening his mission. .

Everyone knows and has felt the singular ex-
hilaration of spirits which the cloudless morning
of a summer Sabbath pours. into the heart.
The light of ' heaven on such a morning is more
efiulgent than any other, because it is reflected
.frtém go 52:1 which igow  with, 
ice, Bem'w'bestowun’
such ,a blessed recapito  labor aged from
care. This delightful sensation enrobes all

\

nature in a coroner-luster; the birds sing more
sweetly; the music of the streams is full of
diviner melody ; and the sunny breeze bears a
happiness to man that borrows additional ful-
ness from the day. The fields are greener, and
the trees, as they rustle to the warm winds,
murmur forth a song which ever and anon
dies away on the enchanted ear, like the far-
gone music of our early life, filling the soul at
once with ha piness and sorrow. On such a
morning as this, we say, our missionary and his
companion took their way along the'devious
windings of the mountain river. It was one of
those delightful streams that pass, n0w in a slow
but limpid course through the green meadow
and again over the rocky bed of the wild and
wooded glen; sometimes stealing out between
clear green banks, and again hiding itself, as it
were, under the meeting foliage of the hanging
wildwood that grew in tangled webs across it,
leaving its very existence beneath them un-
known, unless for the ceaseless melody of its
own voice. The swallows that flew about them
twittered with peculiar glee, and skimmed the
open bends of the little stream, as if they felt
fresh happiness; and the fish leaped out of the
water, as if they, too, participated in this week-
ly jubilee of nature. At length the two comp
panions reached a quiet dell about a mile up the
river, in the center of which rose a little green
eminence, or mount, smooth and grassy, which
commanded a sweet stretch of wild but beauti-
ful scenery down the rivor. Here they sat, and
our worthy ROVer commenced the conVeraation
as which follows:

“Now, Tom M'Mahon,” he began, " I am
about to an! you a solemn question—do you
love your country?"

“Do I love my country? Why, to be sure
I do.”

“I ax agin, do you love your country? Do
you love your country, so as that you would
lay down your life for it—-that you would die
for it?’

“ I don’t know Mal," replied M’Mahon; “ but
I’ll tell you what I know and feel too—~that I
would lay down my life for my religion."

“J’m a fool,” said the Rover, with a burst of
sudden vexation; “ I'm a. fool—it’s religion I
ought to a’ said; for, indeed, it was religion I
meant. However, you know they’re the same
at the long run. Well, you would lay down
your life for your religion? You say that
solemnly?"

“I do, as solemnly as a man can say it; an’
I’d look on myself as a disgrace to my faith, if
I’d fiefuse to shed the last dhrop o’ my blood
or 1 ." " i '

“You would hate a man that could betray
that faith, or, under any pretence, that could
injure it, or wish to injure it ?"

This was followed, on the part of M‘Mahon,
by a look that flashed with indignation and
scorn.

“ What makes you an me sich a question as
My; he inquired; “who wouldn’t hate on
mundiel or traithor that could betray his hi
or his counthry? Hal that’s quare enough,
imam You wouldn't have me fall in love wid
sich a villain ?" .

Body laughed, but’almost immediately re-
lapsed into a mood that still indicated some
internal struggle, as well as dee reflection
Hie countenance at length cleare ; he looked
upon M‘Mahon with an eye which appeared to
be full of candor and confidence, and then spoke
as follows:

“My .mind is made up at last. Tom; I’m
now gom’  trust you, and to put you in a
way of sarvm’ your country, and your religion

too. n

“Well,” replied Tom, “.1 can onl’ say that
whatever trust you place in me  be well
kept. If I do any-thin name or dish I’m

the first of the family t 1: ever did so." v- ’

“ I believe that,” replied the Borer ;“if I,
didn’t think so, I wouldn’t be here this minute
ready 32d willin', to show you how mam
carve ”  ’ '

 

Well, but how a caveman-m...
gooddeal puzzledaatowhat Bodywms

 

 

 

 

’ great men that’s at the

RUDY THE R0 YEA}.

 

 

H  V,

aiming at ; “ don’t keep me too long in the
dark."

“ We have spirits hard at work for us in high
Wok—at hecdquarthers; an’ all they want is to
have us workin’ for them—and you know one
good turn deserves another.”

“ What do you mane by heudquarthers ?"

“ That’s what I can‘t tell you now; all Ican

say is, that our friends is makin’ preparations to |

set our couuthry au’ our religion free ; an’ that‘s
a work that every man that loves both must
join in, or, at any rate, be ready for, when the
time comes."

“But about headquarthers—who are they;

that‘s workin’ for us at headquarthers ?" ‘

“ You’re not fit to know that yet," replied
Body; “ but hould —I’m goin’ too far," he
added, pulling out his prayer-book; “ before I
mention anything else about this great business.
I must swear you to saicrecy. Are you willin’

now, for the sake of your religion an’ your”

counthry, to swear on this bookof God, that to

no human bein’ will you ever mention, upon

this business, the name of the man that’s now

8 akin’ to you, or to give any clew whatsoever
t might discover him ‘2"

“ I’m altogether in the dark in this," said
M'Mahon; “ how do you know whether I ought
to do that or not ?"

“ That’s a very natural question," said the
Rover; “but sure, so far as that oes, you’re
not worse ofl‘, nor so bad even use. ree Mason.
Every man must swear to saicrecy at first,
otherwise, afther hearin' what he has to console
he might refuse to swear at all, and then he’d
get the saicret. No, no; that ’ud never do.
I’ll now say the words and you must judge for
yourself whether you’ll swearto them or not:—

“ I do Wear, in the presence of Almghty God,
that I will always console, and never will revale
either part or parts of what is to be privatol
communicated to me, until I shall be authorize
so to do by the proper authorities ; that I will
neither write it, nor indite it, stamp, stain, or
engrave it, not cause it to be done on paper,
parchment, leaf, bark, stick, stone, or anything,
so that it may be known ; and that I will never
mention the name of Roderick O’Neill to any
person whatsoever, in any way that might lead

’ to his discovery, as the man'that instructed me

in the secrets of what Iam about toknow—
so help me God. Now," proceeded the Rover,
“you can judge for yourself; if you love your
creed andcounthry, you’ll do as others do ; but
if you’re an way cowardly, you'll refuse it.”
“Cowa y !" repeated Tom, with a smile of
scorn. “ I don’t think-there’s much cowardl
blood in my veins. Come, then, at any rate,
can’t be worse 0!? than another. Go over the
oath again, and I’ll swear it." ‘
Rody complied with this, and in a few min-
utes the oath of secrecy—that Is the oath which
prevented him from being. by any possibility,
traced in the villany he then and there origin-
ated—wae deliberately taken by M’Mahon, who
thus unconsciously put himself into the meshes
which a vailed traitor to both his creed and
country was, under their names, and upon the
plea 'of their very authority, drawing round
m.

“Now " proceeded our emissary “there’s
only the hrst step taken yet; but we’must take
the real one at wanst. I’m commissioned to

place you in a station of authority that ought,

to make any man proud."

“But now that I'm sworn to aaicrecy," ob-
served M'Mahon, “ surely you can have no
objection to let me hear who it was that com-
missioned you.”

“That's more than I dare do," replied Body,
“as you will soon come to know. You must
rise high up by degrees, before you can come
to the knowledge of that.
we?» surrounded by enemies that’ 've the
bloodfromtheir veinstogetah ' eat
what. you will” That would knock all our
schemes on the hood, an’ then where would we
be? No, no; ammustbahlghpp, an’ well
worthy ot/bein' ousted, More he can know the
names of thorn that's workiu’ for us at head-
quarthars. Ay, 1311' I’ll tell on more-the three

' m of it all are
scarce known atoll."

Don’t “sou know -

“I suppose O'Connell’s one of them," said
Tom, musmgly, rather than by way of inquir .
Nothing on earth could surpass the indescri '
able afi‘ectation of profound mystery which the
Rover assumed at this observation; his features
settled themselves into a grave and solemn cast,

‘ to which was added an expression of severe rc-
‘ roof, conveyed by the close pressure of his
ips, the knit Moms, and the menacing shake of
the head; all of which, when taken together,

i
l

judgment, and whatever unishment ma be
inflicted on me«not inclu ' g in those,
Societies, or the rofession of a soldier or‘sailor.

“ ‘ 8th.—That will aid a brother in distress
or danger, by'my person and council, as for as
in me lies; and that I will not refuse to sub-
scribe money according to my means, for the
general or particular purposes of this, our Fra-
ternal Society.

“ ‘9th.—That I will not, under the penalt of

I seemed to 5357—“ Sir, you know 11°“ What You my Superiors, give evidence in any court of w

espcak; beware of such questions; you are

, upon dangerous ground; and it is nothing but

the state of utter darkness in which you at

I present live, which prevents you from perceiv-
ing the injury you might inflict upon the cause
by using such language."

\ Such was the significant reproof that might

<
i
r

I
r

,be inferred from his looks, as for words, he,

uttered none. The only reply given consisted
in raising his hand, so as to intimate immediate
silence, and giving M’Mahon a look of such
startling import, as at once made him feel that
he had spoken what was wrong; whilst, at the
some time, the impression left on him, as re-
garding the accuracy of his surmise, unques-
tionably was, that O’Connell guided and origin-
ated the whole mystery, whatever it was; so
admirably qualified was this man to play the
part he had undertaken. '

After two or three minutes' silence, during
which he seemed striving, as it were, to collect
himself, and poor Tom found time to feel the
extent of the error he had just committed, he
once more resumed the discourse:

“Now, Tom,” said he, “ we' must go on.
You are sworn to saicrecy as is proper the
next thing is the Oath of the body."

“ , but what body ?” '

“ y, death alive, man, sure yon can’tbe
allowed to know anything about it till the oath
)8 taken. , Afther that, you’ll be tould all that
you on ht to know in the beginnin'fi This is the
oath ; , repate itat my arse, an' you, canny
the words afther‘ me as you did awhile gone :‘ .

“ ‘ I, Thomas M’Mahon, with the sign of the
cross, do declare andpromise, in the name, and
through the assistance of the Blessed Trinity,
that Iwill keep inviolable all secrets of this
Fraternal Souicty from all but those whom I
know .or believe to be regular members of the
same, and bound by the same solemn ties.

“ ‘ let—I declare and r‘ofess, without any
compulsiou, allegiance to is present Majesty,
King Gear 6 the Third, Kingeof Great Britain
and Ireland. ,

“ 2d. —That I will be true to the principles of
this Society, dedicated to St. Patrick, the holy
Patron of Ireland, in all things lawful, and not
otherwise. ' ,

“ ‘ sch—That Iwillduly and regularly at.
tend, on the shortest pessible notice, at any
hour, whether by day or night,’ to perform,
without fail or inquiry, such commands as my
superior or superiors may lay upon me, under
whatever penalty he or they may inflict for my
neglecting the same.

“ ‘ 4th.-—I will not deliberately or willingly»
provoke, challenge, or strike, any .of my
brethren, knowin them to) be such. If he or
they should be ' spoken of, ill-used. or other-
wise treated unjustly, I will, according to cir-
cumstances, and the best of my ju ent, es-
pouse his cause, give him the earliest infor-
mation, and aid him with my friendship when
in distress. ,

“ ‘ 5th.—I also declare and promise, thatI
will not admit or propose a Protestant tor
heretic of any description as a‘momber of our
* Fraternal Society, knowing him to be such.

“ ‘6th.'—'l‘hat whether in fair or market, in
town or country, I will always give the fer.
ence in dealing tothosewhoare attac ed to
our National Cause, and that I will not deal
with a Protestant or harefic, so long as Icon
deal with one of my own faith upon equal

terms.

“ ‘ 7th.— I will not withdraw myself from
this Society wi out stating my reasons for the
same, and giving due notice to my Superior, or
Bupcriors;and that I will not, without per.
mission, join anyother Iocietyof dilercnt '.
ciples, or denomnations, under penalty of 's

 

< U"

...,. . v. .. A... -u. -mz..__..-...., .

 

or Justice against a brother, when prosecuted
by an Oraugeman or heretio; and that I will
aid in his defense by «way way in my power.

“ ‘ 10th. ~— That when taking refuge in the
house of a brother, or of any person friendly
to our National Cause, I will not have impro-
per intercourse or foul freedom with his sister,
daughter, wife, or cousin, and thus give cause
of scandal to our society.

“ ‘ Having made the above solemn Declaration
and promise, of my own free will and accord,
I swear true and real allegiance to thecauso of
Ireland only ;~praying God may assist me in
my endeavors to fulfill the some ;—-that he may
protect and prosper our Society, and grunt-us
to live and the in a state of Grace! «Aaron! 3’

When this part of the ceremony-ms. 09n-

cluded, Body put his hand,» or rather his finger

and. thumb, into a secret pocket. and extract
therefrom two large pieces at ribbon. he p
them in M’Mahon’u hands ; he thentook out»!
another secret t a folded paper, which he
also committe to hiskeeping. - . ,

“ In this paper," said he, “ you have a y
of the oath you have just tokens who twoogr’l).
bona are to be two signs that will guide you—-
the green one is for Ireland and iriondship. an’
the redone for revenge on' blood: the one is
for your friends—the other for {our enemies.
t'll‘lhcm isnow remamm'  "hut tosiva you

9 Pa“. 9 318118. 511 x 0 r and
here they are}! He then instructedwhgi with

g—_

reference to these, and proceeded, 2‘1me '~

now, Thomas Mfldahon, a true sub of them
that are friends to Roland; and—gig?” our
hand—there you stand, a law‘ully;.~made 'b--
bonrnancan Article Bearer, and Captain ,of
fiftyrnenl Irelandforeverl" _ ; . , -«
“ Why, then, Irelandforever Y’w'aid Mfflohon,
laughingiin accordance with the: l of the
other. is laughter. however,  and
not mirtht‘ul. spite of theionoru ho'hud
just received, he felt as, if that conbdomloi
security, which honesty and ignorance of m-
lawful things always produce, had, somehow.
departed from him. a ‘ . . 
=“Andso.” said he, “I am a captain. ot‘Rib-
bonmen l but where, in the name 0' goodness.
is m corps? Where is my fifty new? m
“ t's your own business now,”repli‘odltody,
“to film them ; which you Are to do by wear--
in' them in, as I have sworn' urself.”-: my; : ‘
Young M'Mahon, moved y a very natural
curiosity, then expressed on anxiety to know.
more about a system to which he nowbolonged.
and with the princi )lea of which he wasper-
sonally identified ; but here he was once more

met by mysterious and orncnlor hintsgto the .

effect, that for the present he should notat-
tempt‘ to knpw too limpache-that the knowledge
must reach rim on degrees, and  g
as his conduct aucbyad’ivit in Mmehgthe
is torn entitled him to lie—4nd.” sun all
tnings, it was impressed upon mm'thfl‘tho
incl? “thrill.an gervice that could be rendered
o ls art an isconn ,wac, 
that system as-widely (tougheniqu m-
in asmauymemberstcitosbocould. ~ I
ving thus safely, and with undeniable
ability, introduced his evil principlesth
of the country, through the cum
ut manly simplicity of Thomas M'Mahou, on
the honest attachment which he feltd’or his re-
lx‘ 'on and his country, he a con -

himself 113 the okillwith w lob-th,

accomplished task he under-tool to per-
form. ' ,  H  ,~ .

scar. itistrue, ammo-em
admirably; but more ‘ 
lufeltthct'therem an and

because a still more personal interest,

.

, "other; ' 
ferent nature. lnwhich he {encroach “ -

 

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' - Mien..than of any other feelin .

x .

'  more than the'coneciousness that you

. , mm
' chcheert:

-'\\ ,

. .impose on

V 1,1nm with her, should experience the fate of

10

did in the success of the secret and illegal sys-
tem which he had just set agoing. ‘
It is not easy to give anything like a
_ correct analysis of what. Torn M’Mahon felt,
on finding himself invested with his mysterious
description of authority]:f To a person placed
in hiscircumstances of ' e, with warm and gen-
erous feelings, limited knowledge, a. conscious-
ness of belonging to a degraded church, and to
aparty deprived of their civil rights; with a
traditionary and habitual attachment also tohis
religion, as well for its own sake as because it
was under ban; to such a person, we say, so
placed, it is not to be supposed that an oflice,
even in the remotest degree connected with any
association of great but nameless leaders, that
was calculated to aid in realizing, whether di-
rectl or indirectly, these dreams of civil and
roll ous freedom that were, and still are, so
strongly cherished by the people, should be-
stow upon him such magnified notions of im-
portssceeswould not only flatter his pride,
and'awake his ambition, but also gave him. the
strangest impulses to action. This, indeed,
was precisely the course that had been designed
for him, and for such as resembled him ; that
is'to say, a course that would, whilst it kept
them ignorant of an definite object, drive
them forward, by b ' and infatuated im-
pulses, into cctsotsnch senseless and illegal
violenceaswonld'not only bring themselves
to ruin and destruction, but furnish their “one—
mieswith s  argument against their
fitness for civil or religious liberty, and justify
cases of individual oppression under the plaus—
ible pretextofyindicoting the law. In; such a
position was mm M'Mahon now placed;
» the ‘blind but unsuspecting instrument/of s
 unprinoipled adventurer, whose
vilo'wages were defivedrrom the wrbulenoeof
folvil strife, and the crimes which resulted from
like corruption at nunrcdecting people. a
r Itwusontlu‘second or third morningafter
this‘flmt‘Body, whilst readin , as he often did
finders Mast: the “ ven 'Penitential
'l’ulms,” seated in , the chimney-corner,
havingwoonnluded their perusaal, closed
the book, and sighed deeply.  Alice M'Mc'lrhon
was engaged in preparing breakfast; om
And the {other having been as usual at their
daily. employment in the mines. We say he
sighed deeply. and, as was  custom, accom-
- ' the inspiration by a long look of ten—
. andsorrow. The unsuspecting girhwhc
Jmoiated these evidences of sufi‘erin with im-
.§usions of a religious nature, 100 ed upon
t on at first, rather as indications of con-
Ultimately,
(however, they became too signi centtc be mis-
understood. On every occasion, when he
.mlddo so without being observed, his eyes
aware fixed upon her with the some long gaze
vol' deep regret, mixed mostly with admiration,
i.but alwa Exterminating. as we have said, with
uprotoun si hs. ~ Alice, who was no fool, could
emit no longer, nor doubt the
-.csuseof all this. She was not insensible to
.v her own beauty. nor to the symmetry of her
and exquisite figure; and it was not by
 means. unnatural. she. thought, that a
v handsome young fellow, living in the salme

gmany. other yo menin the neighborhood,
'svhwhsd felt the _ orce of her charms. In fact,
whencould no longer mistake the matter. It

! wutoo she only wondered that she
‘1 had notde it from the 3. Now,
r to‘thosowho are acquainted With love, it is,

scarcely: necessary to say, that there is nothing
 overleeds its ,flame, or rather creates the

~mbolovcé..

. I is. under abnost any circum-
.' mm'h cc 'n’ to kindle a corresponding
“action; as ially whoretheiobject is hand-

. and- exists no preosngugement of
In the use of a young girl. his“
sfifitflWMbflbredhp taker self-love and
vanity, and she feels grati by a conscious-

, the. individual inogueetionfhgs se—

‘ in‘ #9th be»? other, We;

1

        

RODY THE ROVER.

began to feel that an interest "or him was
awakening in her own heart. Sometimes
he caught her eyes furtively fixed upon him,
and occasionally he could hear a low sigh, on
her part, we must say, breathed uncon-
sciously. Nor was this all; in the course
of a short time, he could perceive that
the eye, which on these occasions was
usually timid and downcast, would, alter a
slight struggle, be raised to meet his; but
with so rapid and trembling a glance, that,
were it not for the blush which accompanied
it, the vainest man could hardly flatter him-
self that it intimated afi‘ection. Body, how-
ever, was an adopt, and knew by the small,
but transient flush of meaning, which the
conscious soul shot into it as her own signal,
that Alice's heart was touched. But, indeed,
this is not at all to be wondered at. Body‘s
appearance, at all places of amusement, was
sure to be hailed with delight. If he came to
wedding, wake, or dance, a buzz immediately
want through the people, and "here's Body
the Rover," was immediately whispered about ;
“ay, that handsome young man, with the
Caroline hat and green waistcoat, is Rod the
Rover !" All eyes were instantly turns on
him ; he was examined, viewed, looked at, by
the oung, with the eager gaze of credulous
admiration that proceeds from those who will
take anything they wish to believe on trust ;
by the old, with the cautious scrutiny that
weighs and deliberates before it decides. At
fairs and markets he was followed b crowds ;
and at cha el, both before and a 1' mass.
proud was t e youn rustic who could appear
or the do as his so ected and especial com-
panion; uch, however, is.human nature in
every condition of life ; every one is anxious to
be known asthe friend of a great man, and we
know that all greatness is but com arative.

' Bitter, too, were the feuds, an 'ealousies,
and heartburnings,‘ that distracts the fair
ones of the parish about the gallant oun
Rover ; and many a piece of pithy scandyal di
they charitany concoct against each other, in
consequence of some fancied preference given
b him to one or other of the air competitors.
0 l woman, wom'sn—but no matter; you are
yourselves the sufl’erers. . .

Body, on the morning in question, closed
his book, and alter a few minutes silence, rose,
and took a turn or two about the floor, appar-
ently in a. mood mounting almost to distress.
At length he spoke.

“ ey." said he, “ I can bear this no longer. "

“ Bear what ?” she asked ; " something seems
troublin’ you, sure enough.”

“I'm unhappy in my mind, a’most ever
since I come to Ballybracken. Sometimes I
wish I had never come; an’ agin, sometimes I
wouldn’t for millions that I had not ; an' what‘s
more, Alley, you are the occasion of my un-
hap iness. I

“ e 1" she exclaimed, blushing deeply, how-
ever; i‘twhy how in the wide world could I be
the manes of your unha piness?" .

“You may very eusi y guess that,” he re-
plied, “dont you know that it would be im-
possible for any one like me to be acquainted
wid you, sn’ not to get fond of on.”

Alice, who had felt that this eclsration was
coming. experienced considerable trepidation ;
however. as it is not unusual with country
country girls under; such circumstances, she
strove to give the matter a jocular turn.

“So either all it’s only in love e are."
she replied, and at her voice betrays the in-
terest she felt'in is words, “ sn' methought 1t
,wsssorry for your sins you won." ,

-“Why, thank goodness," he returned. “I
can’t so that I have any very great sins on my
head ; know I'm far frOm what I ought to be;
but still, I make it a point to hear mass on
Sunda s an’. holida s' and to go to my duty
every liristmasan ’disthermnd indeed, bad
as} out, I wouldn’t sleep'aisy if I neglected to
do so ; or to say two or three words 0 prayers,
night 1311’ mornin'., It keeps one's mind'at
nise,.anf besides, one prospers ' the betther .for
it.”.’  " -' :  ‘ ~
' , The ,qeriou's view he took'of'what 'Alic'e‘in;

 

 

v~ . 51-.  
A h: ' r tm ‘ I
 scum“. communists

i

buts of her respect from a young man who held
such principles— principles, she thought to
herself, so very valuable in a husband.

“ I didn't mane any disrespect,” she said,
“especially for readin your rayer-book; in-
deed, I had no harm in what l’saic .”

“ I know that, " he replied ; but I wish you
would think of what] said. Indeed, to make
a short sic of it, Alley dear, I love cu be-
yond all be 'ef ; an' what’s distressin me is,
that I’m afeered you like somebody else."

“ Me 1 ” she exclaimed quickly ; but in a
moment she felt that the quickness, as well as
the tone in which the exclamation was uttered,
had almost betrayed her. “ Well," she pro-
cesded, recovering, or endeavoring to recover
herself ; “ and what if I do ?"

“That,” he rejoined, “is what makes me so
unhappy ; for if I thou ht your heart was
fixed upon any other, I'( not have a day's
pace ; an' you may believe me when I say so."
“Say so," she returned, “ say so, indeed !
I’m steered you say everythin but your
prayers, and (you whistle them. 'ghere agin,"
she exclaime , smiling, “one would think I'm
laughin’ at you for prayin', but, indeed, I, am
not. Sure you know its a common sayin'."
“I know it is," he replied ; “but,, indeed,
whether you're jokin' or not, I do often whistle
hymn tunes ; bekase when one’s whistlin'
them, the mind’s'not apt to be on any harm“
an' that’s what makes me do it.” '

“ Well," thought she, “it surely is not every
day that one could meet with so pure-hearted
a be as he is."

“ s it thrue, or is it not ?" he asked eagerly,
or, rather, solemnly ; “ only let me know whet
ther you like any one else or not '1’"

“An' sup so I don't," she replied. “ surely
it doesn’t fo 1y that I’m fond 0’ you ?"
“Unfortunately for myself it doesn’t; but
still, it ’ud be a great relief to me to know
whether I have any inst me or .no "

“ An' suppose you var?"

” Why, in that case, I’d not stay in the coun-
try." he replied. -
She gave him a quick, look, in which there
was what might be termed a slight expression
of contempt. -

“So ou’d run away," she said; “that ’ud
be y too. If I was amen," sheadded, “I
wouldn’t run, at any rate.”

“An' what ’ud you do i” he asked.

" Oh, that's another thing," she replied. “ I
only said what I would not do."

“ You'd stand your ground," said he ; “ but
where would be the use of that, if you found
that the girl you loved wasfond of another?"

“ Ay, if I fou—J'she can ht herself are the
word had escaped, and ad ed, “why, that’s
very true; it would be the best thing you
could do, sure enough." I

Body, who, as our readers dread erce'rve,
was merely playing her as a ski f angler
does a fish, replied:

“Will you answer me seriously, Alley? I
don’t ax are you fond 0’ me? for Icould hardly
expect that; but I do or you solemnly, are you
fon’d i" any other?”

“Iiim.” said she.

“Well, thank you, Alley," he re lied; "an'
God bless you for spskin’ the trut . This is
the last day I’ll stay in the counthry ; an'. ’dear
knows, you ay believe me when I tell you.
that I'll go wrd a sorrowful heart." ‘

“I thought," said she,‘“that you’d be apt
to in uire who it is I'm» fond o .” i

“ as soon not know it," he replied ‘. “bu
since you put it into my head, who isrit ?"

“Its my mot-her," she re lied ;' "ha; ha. ha!

with one of those smiling glances that convey
an}; feeling but des ir. '
ody seemed to eel as if new life had been
at once infused hito him. He flew toher;
“Allow-dear l" he exclaimed, asif half mad
wimoy, “dear. dear Alle lvis it possible——
co 't',caniit be possib e? Itisl it.'ul ,I
see it—I feel it—you do not love @118
else.~ An" you do care “about ms. ' 't
deny it now—Lyonyido. r I'Isw Elam“ 813d
flow—now feel iton ‘yourjwdelnn‘u ’
pa" ‘ " 2 l ‘ ' Withdr‘n

 

.tep‘ded‘as'a jest, puzzled her sadly, whilst};i at
the same tinie,’she could not with o

i
, .

1d the” tri:

_ . . .4. ,...,§,‘; ..":
n “Body that'snot-generous,"lshn film

may
i

now are you satisfied l” an she glanced at him .

jinn -l-.---. -- 

 

 

.mm .MJ........~-..haywmwm, a". x, A” .

y'/

do, let. us not med is with rehgion, whether or

'Iknow-herfoot." - m

-down'the glen to meditate over the progress

glidiqght feel disposed toimsute blame, or want

- instancer-r—where, a serious intention of mam.
mony exists.

.‘the river we have already describedjfit. length
turned his footsteps

» bracken.

RODY THE ROVER.

 

 

disengaging herself from him; “ snf don‘t think
I’ll suffer you to take any sich liberty as that
8 I’Y

“ Well, only say the word,” he replied, “ jist
that one little word—that you cure something for
me. Alley, darlin’ say it."

“I’ll not say it,” she replied; “see how you
have pulled my hair about; an’ I don’t care for
you, sorra bit. What'ud my mother say if she
camein an' found me the we. I am ?”

“ Here, I’ll help you up wrd it."

“No, you won't: single your freedom an‘
double your distance, if you plaise. Qon‘t
think it’s your Kilscaddhan girls you haye. ’

“Well, it is the lovely head o’hair, sure
enou h," he observed. I 

“ hat‘sthatto you whether it is or not," she
replied, as she hastily braided it up. “ Serra
civil word you’ll get from me this month to
come.”

“Throth will I, for all so angry as you are.
Your bark’s worse than your bite. I’ll hould
goold to silver I make you laugh this minute."

“Ay, indeed, laugh I’m sure 1"

“ Ay, laugh. There, now, look at me if you
dare. I defy you to look me in the face this
minute. Idare youto do it widout laughin'.
Amn't I a purty boy—without paint, too?" ‘

He had, in fact, twisted his features into an
expression so irresistibly grotesque and ludi—
orous, that it was almost impossible to look at
them with gravity. Alice, notwithstanding her
anger, and several attempts to look indignant,
at length was forced to burst out into a fit 
mirth, which was violent just in proportion to
her attem ts at restraining it.

"Now, said he, “ didn't Itell you Iwould—
an' what is more, gm do care for me ;‘so you
needn't deny it. o yon think we didn’t un-
derstsnd one another’s eyes this good while

at? I A ‘ .
p “Go to the son's," she re lied, strivin‘gto
put on a frown; “ if you’ve not ing else,‘you'va
a good stock of assurance anyway." I

“Ay, have I, slide good farm near Kilscad-
den, wid a good stock of cm sn' cattle on it;
an’I'll hhve'you‘ mistress o it before you're
‘much milder." "

“ Go 10 wid you," she replied, with a half
glance add a? an pressed smile, ,"you’re_ a

nrty fellow to rcedin' the Pemtential
» ' {they don't ordher you to be kissin’
the ' at any rate." - ‘

‘ )1, aisey, AIle dear, aisey. 'Whatever we
not.” ,

" Well, troth," said the innocent girl, " that’s
the third time formic; but sorta harm Thad in
. ,, _ .

1t., , I
‘ Well, I know you hadn't. dorlin’; but still
it’s better not, said this accomplished hypo.
crite, who,'as he had commenced with religion,
was also determined to end with it. I '
“Whisht.” said she, “there's my mother—-

The mother then entered, and after an; ex-
change of two or three glances, Rody walked

and prospect of hisdesigns. _

Our readers need not be told here that, in
the scenc'iust described, there occurred no-
thing out of the ordinary course of rustic
courtship, asitusually proceeds between young

rsons‘ of the most unblemished character;
and this observation we make, lest anyone, un-

ualnted with the usages of country life,

of maidenly deliqsc .to MsthonL. The
scene, as dewrihe , is onewhich occurs in
thousands of instancesenay, almost in every

‘ Body having- sauntered throughlthe glen,
and amused himself by tracing the 'windings of '

towards‘thc minbs'in the?
dark hills above. As he did‘so,’ it Was noses--
my that'he' should return by the way he- had
come, and use through the'village ofrBallyw'

"Fhe distancp‘between the'villegcand.
the mines was only about a' mile, 'and,‘as lis‘

the Lord warm his heart

nets, and others of them either brought it with
them in the morning, or had it sent to them
by some member of the family at the re lar
hour. Among the first class wore rian
M‘Mnhon and his son, Thomas.

Body, on going up towards the mines, met
them on their way home; and, on being pressed
to return with them to dinner, he excused him-
self by saying that “ he was not a bit too well
to—dny, an’ as for aitables, divil a. morsel could
pass his lips. No; he would ~take a walk to
the hills; but if Alley or any of them liked,
they might keep a mouthful for him when he
came back."

The simplicity of country life is as rife with
(lowly) ambition as is the highest grade of that
which is termed fashionable. Rody's account
of his circumstances, his excellent and cheap
farm, and all the flattering details which. from
time to time, he annexed to it, were not over-
looked by the M‘Mahons; especially on observ-
ing, as they often did, that the Rover seemed
to look on Alice with a favorable eye. This,
however, was part of his plan; for he knew
what was ve natural ~and calculated to pre-
vent ell possi ility of suspicion being fastened
on himself.

- After the father and son had passed him, the
former, looking back, said:

“Don't you think, Tom, that Body would
make the creme of a good husband for
A116 '1‘” - ‘

“ do,” replied the son; “butIhardl think
—'yetI don't know—he looks at her 0 n in
sich a waymhowever, if he takes a fancy to her
he will soon spake out."

“Troth; an I think he has a fancy for her
already," re lied the father; “an' did you hear
what he sa' jist now? 'If Alley,’ says be—
poor girl, it’s she that r 'ud. be happy wid him
and his fine farm; an' another thing. Tom, luck

an‘grace he’llhave, or anyone that's, punct'il '

in sayin’ their prayers nig t and mornin’; sn’,
you knowyhe never misses them." 7 ' '
"Di, ' adoubt of it, father, but he'd make
the best husband ever Alley will get; If. ever
there was a thrue Catholic, and a thrue Chris-

tian, he is one—~that11cnmn. 0h! father, if’

you knew how that man loves his religionan'
is counthry !" v V .
“Well, sure, there's no harm in ssyin‘ may
_ y to our darling 
anyhow. He may, go far befo e he'll meet sic
:1 wife; the Lor in' heaven guard an’ bless
er r
This, as we have said, was ambition; but it
was that simple ambition whichis consecrated
into virtue by the purity and warmth of domes-
tic love. '
‘ The Rover, after the few words of conversa-
tion with them already detailed, roceeded to
the mines, where he went about om rock to
rock, and from shaft to shaft, with all the air
ofa man to whom such a scene was perfect
novelty. At length, having observed several of
the men at dinner, and passed from groqu to
group, he raised his hat three times 0 his
cad, each time distinctly, as if by accident,
placing three’ of his fingers upon his right eye-
row. The men, who were at the moment est-
_ cared not totake an por-
tlcular notice of 1m,', with the exception of
one individual, who, lookin at him steadily,
laced the'three-fin ers of h 3 left hand who:
sit eyebrow; and t at moment Body. seeing
that the man was at hisimenl, sat‘dmvn on the
ledge of a rock, without having excited either
notice ‘or observation. The man at length‘lin.
ished his dinner; and, having once more laced
the three do are of his left hand upon his left
eyebrow, loo ed at Body; as if-he had said,
“Here I am, what uis your” laurel. .or
what , is [your wish 1”" Our  made
no reply, but walked 11 towards! uthe
‘ t which overhung em,‘ and - in a
few minutes was followed by,the. man .who
had so " 'or, at all events, understood
 - Having reached the dragonflith did
as {moral tostrstoh; his hubs; and
breathe  air, “walls”, can worthy
‘Rover, d_ .r .- .v ,2  up; (.r
3mm. ions,  youharmLWaJfi

ing their dinner, ap

 

usual under circumstances of a similar kind,
some of the workmen went home to their din-

’ l

the Rover, “ and why did you not immediately
let me know that you had come ?" '

I’ '1

 

,_ l »,I. .. .. . ..—....-.-  up...» ._.... ' 5...... -«w' u, .
W”... ......-n..,-,. . w.-. -m, -,. Himalw “swgfpmfifinm:;:.;‘:5:;n:;:::;; -:.2.;.;.;":‘:.:;;'. '4;

:WP

ready to give to everé man you
to autumn-tide .

1nd .

 

"Simply," replied the other, “ bekaise I
hadn't time : this is my first day.” . .

“The worthy magistratc's letter got you im-
mediate employment, of course."

“ At wanst. Sure he can do anything with
the chief proprietor, Ogle.”

“Have you any notion of what he was at
when you eft him '2" ,

“I only got a hint ; but I think it‘s not far
from the thruth, at any rate.” .

“ \Vhat is it ?" .

“ He’s luyin’ the foundation for another
con—cons‘och, I cun hardly get my tongue
about it." »

“A conspire , I suppose."

“ The same : e‘s hard at work at it."

" Will he employ ou in it ?" u

“ I don‘t know. 6 says this is the last jdb
I'll get. I b'lieve he’s oin’ to employ new
hands. He’s not plaisedgwid me for the way I
thransported the Connors : he says it was
more by good luck than by good guidin' I did
it ; an' t at only the jury wor his friends,
they’d never be thransported. Throth, un' he
done me an injustice there ; for divil a harder
or purtier piece 0' swearin’ ever I made in in
life. I dunno. when ,I was so proud out o
anything 0' the kind ; an' yet I got but little
thanks when done. " " ‘

“Your mother and your wife and children
are comin with you, of course ?" y ,

" The ' be here in a day or two." ‘

" We then, when they come, I have, a
house ready for them, in which they can sit
rent free, or I am much mistaken."

l

“ Are you doin‘ any thing particular  this '

neighborhood?" asked Malone.
“ Come, come, Mat, no inquiries." All, I
have to say to you is, that, when anythinslha'p-
ens to be proposed to you,'fall in M Vit—
loin it. I need say no more. You alwa had
the use of your eyes and cars, at all even find
+youlare aware of the rest yourself; You and

.1 know nothing about each other~neversaw

oneranother, and,'of course, are perfect" strung.
gers. Remember that—,ashefore." ’
“ Hut, you needn’t tell me John Thompson’s
news. Do you think I‘m a fool i" ,
.“NotI, indeed, Mat; Iknow you too well
forpthat: but, mark me, you must be punctual,
inattending Mass, and conduct curse]! with.
. Encourage  ' gasmuch
as you can others, but don’t M;D\Wh
yourself; and, if yougshow snninclinationfto
devotion, it’lldono harm; so far 
indeed, it will prevent the possibility pf
suspicion. I don’t think, however, that you’ll
be able to here without an accomplice;
and knowing this, I have written to Sharpe-to
say that he must send Gabby to assist you.
Ogle must get him employment as Sharp; did
you, in order that it me not look as the
one person sent you both ere. For, mark me,
unless in private, you and Gabby-must be
strangers too. ”
" A nets boyis the same Gabby.” .
“Throth, and you-needn't stop liq-s,” re-
turned the other, withawinksndngrm. both
of which were strong] indicative of , the
community of villainy t subsisted 

.The thenseparated; 
pl. 5 

’sshdl  in“ “i.” pummeled”
ce ‘ ,re 'stesyac 
towards? the hospitable proof ' of boasting:
M'Mahca, wh hearri‘v some 
hesndhis son"' re p ., totheirlabpr.'v'__
Tom. M’Mahon having been elevated pr»
sallum—byaleap-xto the honor of enamels
Bearer, Aegisomewhat at unis?” how:
roceed; aswauve net 9
lineaidsnd advieepot thisy Rover, were
8

 

mm in  Ball. ~v ,~ _. l , -, y
P first suppose“ that pom. 191s
tomrite. with your own hands. a,

   
  
 

comatose“):— d was whfii .

WwamlementoIW», A,

m  mu hm. 1%"

at ten bring you the_a .
arlsh Delegate, an' along w1d t t I’ll giv

 

 

1)

ROD? THE RO YER.

 

 

you further instructions an' more knowl-
edge."

“But how will I choose my men ?” asked
Tom, lau hing.

" I’ll to 1 you that same,” replied the Rover.
“Avoid havin’ undher yourself the fellows
that can read and write. Always choose the
most ignorant ; bekaise you'll find that they’re
fittest for your purpose. It‘s always aisier
managin’ ignorant an’ unlarned men, than
them 'that has received good schoolin’ ; an
in this business, obedience to ordhers is every-
(hi ."

see instructions were at once acted upon.
For two or three evenings Tom did nothing
but copy out the Articles, after which, having
in a few days completed his own number of
fifty, he began to make Article Bearers with
earnestness and zeal. The previous
night and evening meetin s, to which We have
already alluded ——that is, t e dances, gambling
arties, etc., etc., together with hurling and
ootball matches on Sundays, constituted the
very best description of machinery for propa-
gating the new system among the people. In
this matter, expaerience fully corroborated the
sagacious calcu tions of the Rover, who wisely
withheld his secret until eve hing was
completely repared for its reception.

The rapi ity with which an evil principle
spreads is beyond belief. In awonderfu 1y
s ort period, not only the parish of Bel-
lybracken, but the surrounding parishes, were
corrupted by this pestilent leprosy,
which was now fast spreading like a plague
in'all directions. 'I‘om M’Mahon was ve
soon raised to the omce of Parish Delegate, as
the Rover had promised him, and there was
nothing now the rage but “ this New Business,”
as they called it—nightly lodges, secret meet-
ings, and hole and corner consultations, of
every shade and character. .Everythingwas
now prospering to the Rover’s most sanguine
expectations; and we question whether the
bitterest enemy to our country could have
wishedto see herin a more degraded state than
that to which this wicked emissary and his
principles were likely to bring her. -

Body’s conduct during the sensation created
’by the novelty of Ribbonism, was worthy of a
diplomatist, and would have reflected honor on
Tall d. Innosingleinstancedidhe

' himself up with, or nurture it in 
«way; "on the contrary, he appeared, to
intents‘and , ignorant of its very exist-
ence. ' So admirably did he manage, thatoin
the event of discovery, there was not a circum-
stance in existence which could trace the origin
of it to himself. Tom M’Mahon was most
solemnly swornto secrecy; and even if he had
violated his oath, he could produce no other
witness to corroborate his testimony, and one
.oatlrwasas good as another under such cir-
cumstances. As for the copy of the Oath and
Articles with which he had furnished M’Mahon,
they were not in his own handwriting, or else
so disguised that they could ve nothing
aydnst him. These observe one, however,
as touching the progress of Ribbonism, are
rather in advance of our narrative, to which we
now return. '

There stood a little to the south of Bally-

a small cottage, to which was attached
a littlegarden, both not worth more than three
or four nude 9. year. This cottage and gar-
den had gen for some time past the subject of
dispute between a Mr. Ogle, already‘mentioned,
an of whom than-cadet will more, and a
gentleman named S , who, according to the
opinion of the nei bors, had no earthly claim
to, it. No sooner the circumstance of the
lawsuit reached the 110st camthan here-
solvedtoworkitintohisplotmndmakoitsub-
servicnt to the designinview.~ Accordingly,
in a few iii to after his convomtionwith
MatMalonc, csomanagedit MMaloncand
his mother and family found themselves in pan.
session ofthc cottage in quesh'on. with a dc-

hammoan possession, until thclcgat
t“ ‘ oftli’epremisesdiouldbedcoidcd;
oftimc as might

‘ ‘atlem forsuchalcngth
 enlble him, afterhisown

 

ion, “to prove himself a friend to his coun-

As matters stood now, the moral atmosphere
was beginning gradually to darken. Meetings
of young fellows in the public-house of Bally-
bracken became more numerous and frequent,
bringing in man after man, until scarcely an in
dividual in the village remained unconnected 
with them. In the moan-time, disturbances be- ‘
gan, in several directions, to break out, as did ‘
private quarrels among the people themselves,
who had been up till then, at least, peaceable
with each other. Intoxication, with all its train
of evils, spread rapidly; this was followed by
neglect of business, and neglect of business
by straitened means, want of comfort, repining,
and discontent. To this state had our worthy
adventurer brought that portion of the country
which surrounded Ballybracken, as well, we
need not add, as the unfortunate village itself.

 

CHAPTER VI.

A ?BOPOSAL 0F MARRIAGE MADE AND ACCEPTED-—
BODY LEAVES BALLYBBLOKEN.

Body now having perfectly established his sys-
tem, and put it into full operation, determined
onmakingashortvisittoadifierntpartof the
country. Before taking this ste , however, he
asked Tom M’Mahon to join  in another
stroll up the river we have already described,
the time being, as before, a Sunday morning.

“ Tom,” said he, “ I must lave the neighbor-
hood forawhile; but before I go, I wish to

1V spake to you about one or two matthers that's

throubling me. ” 4

“ Why, what's thmublin’ you ?" asked Tom;
“ but, indeed," he added, “it’s foolish of me to
ax you sicha thing, knowin' as I do, the scrape
you're in ; an’, by the way, what do you intend
to do about that " '

“ I don‘t exactly know yet, " replied Body;
“I think we’ll thry an’ get it settled. We’re
aiquil in point of numbers; an’ if they’ll give
up prosecutin’ our party, why, our part will
forgive them—so far, at any rate, as the w is

consarn

“ You say there was a man killed on both
sides." .

“ I said there was only one done for on both
sides," he replied; “ but what signifies a man s
life when one's religion is at stake ?"

“ I don‘t agree wid you in that," replied
Tom; “a mans life is a serious thing, no mat-
ther what’s at stake,"

“ Why, it is, to be sure,” said Rody, who
felt afraid of broaching such diabolical doctrines
too openly.‘ “ However, to drop that part of
the subject. I’m frettin’ about my fine‘- farm;
for, you know, as the sayin‘ is, that when the
cat's away, the mice may play; an‘ although I
have good, honest sarvints at home, still, bedad,
the honestest of them all is nothin" the worse
of havin’ one’s eye over them."

, “ Thrue enough," said Tom; “ they say a
good eye is worth two ’pair 0’ hands."

“No doubt of it; but talkin’ about the farm
Tom, I’m goin' to mention a thing to you now,
that I didn't mind to spake about till this bit of
throuble was settl " I

“ Well,” said Tom, “let us hear it,”

“ Why,” he proceeded, “ the farm, as I said,
is as good as ever a spade wint into. Now, as
I’m a bachelor, an' have a good farm, the next
thing I want is a good wife—I say a good wife,
in every respect; for, let me tell you, I am, an'
always was, devilish hard to place, or I might
be married long agone."

Tom’s aflcctionste heart bounded with satis-
faction and joy at this admirable prospect that
was about to open, to his sister; for he felt that
:hc germination would end by Body proposing

or er. .

“ I have now been livin'," he proceeded, “for
some Moment father’s house, an' I needn’t
In that I every opportunity of knowing
w a darlin' girl, yoursisther, Alley is. Tom
yonsccllikctodccvorythingabovc goo
tonve time, andmakea long story short, it's

myinuntiontomakchcrmisthrcssofmyflnu

T “ Where do you lave Alley herself?" asked
om.

“ Ihave been spakin’ to her on the head of
it,” replied the Rover, “an’ she is quite willin’
if you and they are. Now, what I’m proposin’ to
myself to dois this—I'll thravcl by night to
Balschaddhan an' see what can be done to
get no self out of this mess I’m in—
then can come back, an’ let us be
married; but there's one thing I’d like, and
that is, that my uncle, who is priest of Ba.
schaddan parish, has often told me, that unless
he sees an’ approves of the wife I’ll marr ,he’ll
never give or ave rue—nor chick nor Chlld be-
longin‘ to me—a single Sixpence; so, you see,
we must conthrive some way to give him a look
at her first—but, of coorso, that won’t be difli~
cult. If he likes her, as I know he will, why,
well an’ good; but whether he does or not I’ll
in her.”

“ That’s both fair an’ manly, Rody,” replied
M’Mahon, “and jist what I’d expect from an
honest man. So far as I am consumed, you
have my full consint, an’ I think I may promise
you my father’s an’ mother’s. But now, Rody,
don’t you remimber that you promised to let
me know more about this ibbon business we
have spread over the counthry?"

“I think myself,” replied Rody, “ that if any
man in your situation is entitled to it, you are;
but, the truth is, I haven’t it in my power to
let you into these things yet—that is, can’t do
it widout liberty from higher authority. How-
ever, while I'm awa , I’ an’ get that, so
that when I come ack, I’ll ve more infor—
mation for you.

“ As for myself," said Tom, “I’m a’most sor-
ry that it eVer came into the 00th at all.”

“Why, so ?" asked Rody, surprised.

“Why, bekaise,", continued Tom, “ ever
since it tuck root amongst us, there has no
good followed it. The people dhrink more,
and fight more an’ curse an’ gamble, more, an’
neglect their - usiness more, an’, in fact, do
everything that's- bad more than before it a
peered at all. There’s nothing new but co -
loginl, an’ plottin', an' talkin amon us of
iakin’ the laws into our own hands. ere's a
little scoundrel that joined us, an' to tell God’s
vthruth, he’s nothing but a firebraud.”

“Who are you spakin’ about ?”

“ About that cunnin’-looking, skamin’ little
vagabone that joined us lately—Mat Malone.
Troth, I'm much mistaken, or there’s threach-
cry and desate in the same little blackguard’s
eye an" in his heart too—what’s worse.”

“ Is he son to the woman they call Molly
Malone ?" .

“The same; the little vagabone an' she
made a moonlight flittin’ into the house that
has been nicknamed " Debalable Gutle,’ an’
there they sit, although there wasn’t _a soul in
the neighborhood would have anythmgtodo
with it, afeerd of ' ’ into the clutches of
the two scoundrels ‘ t‘s fightin’ about it. ”

“ Well, but what did this Molloy, or Malone
—Malone, I b’lieve—do, Tom, that'makes you
spake of  so harshly ?"

“ Fifty things. Hes always plottin' some.
thing, an’ makes the laborin’ men spend more
moneyin dhrinkthanany tenmeninthe

arish. He now wants us to turn out for

igher wages, although, to tell the thruth, in
Our case the wages is fair enough, which, to be
sure, is more than I can .say for the laborers in
the country generally.”

“Well, Tom,” replied Body, “only that the
scales is on your eyes yet, you'd see all these
thin in a different light. Wid resend to
turmn' out for higher wages, little Malone is
ri ht—that is one of the objects of ourvlystcm;
be tl'n;if thgse fellows aren’t made stead of
us, ' ‘u come to a poor pass.” r

“bagged,” said , “they are comin'
to a pass as it is.”

“Well,” plaisc goodness,” said the other, “‘1
ho ‘whcn Immchereagimthat I’ll be able
to ctyousecmoretlmnyonaecatprccent.
Why, man, if you could but understand it, I
tell you that everything is jist goin‘ on as them

 

if qu'mothei-an'youfillcoucnt."

that net the buciness afoot wishes. Can I so; more

---——--..-..- M—‘1-4—<»~‘< ~+~-r---—-v- 

._ ._.. -w.. In... __,<.—._.. um

 

BODY THE BO YER.

 

now? No; an' I wish I could; for I’d soon
give you the right key to everything."

“How far is Balscaddhan from this '1’" asked
Tom.

“About sixty miles," replied the other, “ an'
in a beautiful counthry all out. "

“ An’ your uncle’s parish priest of it ?”

“ He is," replied Body, “and the best crea-
ture livin’. His name is M’Dowdle; for he's
my uncle by the mother’s side, an' she was a
M‘Dowdle. It's a very respectable name in that
part of the counthry; an', indeed, the Rev.
Darby M‘Dowdle is well known in the diocese.
It's he that'll be delighted when he sees Alley—
as he will, plaise goodness."

“An‘ when do you intind to start? " asked
Tom, “ an’ what stay will you make away from
us ? H

“ As short a one as I can, you may be sure,"
he replied: “indeed, I think I‘ll start in the
mornin', plaise goodness. _The first thirty miles
I‘ll thravel in open day, and the next thirty by
dark; for, you know, a man may as well keep
a free foot while he can. At the most, it could
only be brought in homicide, or scarcely that;
for the whole harm was done in a Party Fight,
an' they happened to die of the beatin’ on both
sides.”

“Anything for my religion," said Tom, his
fine eye kindling with an enthusiasm which the
heartless traitor beside him could never under-
stand; “and anything for my counthry, too,
for the maither of that; but I hate useless
cruelty, and don’t like to see neighbors and ac-
quaintances beatin’ an‘ smashin’ one another,
merely bekaise the one won’t go the way of the
other, wherein we're commanded to love our
enemies besides."

“An’ yet you have hate the most powerful
Orangeman that ever was in Ballybracken;"
rejoined the Boyer.

” If I did, it was bekaise he called the Church
that I an' all that have had our blood in their
veins for ages belongs to, a scarlet—no matther,
you know the rest." ,

“Well,” replied the other, “I’m glad you

ve it to him. But as I‘m startin’ inthe mom-
in', Tom, will you mintion about Alley this
evenin' to the ould couple. She and Iwill take
a walk u or down 'the river, I dunna which;

tel the truth, I‘d wish to‘scttle matthers
wid herself, an 'ave nothin’ in the dark. Open
dailin’s, 'Tom, and above board, is my rule, an'
aim s will be."

“ arrin’ in this Ribbon business,” said Tom,
laughing; “there you’re close enou h." '

,‘ ‘ Ay," returned the other; “but 1; ere I have
a duty to fulfill. Why, now, listen, Tom; pay
attention to this: we daren't write a lather to
one another, through the post-oflce, ' on that
business, for fraid o’ lettin’ the Governi’nent'
come at us. And you know as well as I do
that .if the heads of, the business war to let
themselves be known to every one that belongs
to it, they migh’ t as‘well prepare their cofln s
at yanst; for, unfortunate , the ould 
is too thrue— ut one Irishman one. s it, an’
you‘ll soon fin another to turn him. ' c you
understand me now I" '

“I do," aid Tom; “you’re right; I grant it
—you are right."

“ To be sure - for listen again: how can you
orIbe sartintliat theflrst inanwemeet isn’ta
traitor in his heart, an' wouldn’t sell either of
us, or begad, both, for Government gooldl’f ‘

“But in that case,” said Tom, “the safest
way would be to have nothin’ to say to it at all."
‘ “The safest! 0h. Tom," said the Rover,
with aflook of s reproof, “that’s a word I
never expected to car from your lips. The
safest: why only I know you too walk—only 1—»
but—oh, no, you're not a coward, surely; I
hope, when I come back to the neighbor-
hood”

l

“ To my father's house," replied M'Mahon,
with a look of pride that would havegrsced
the brow of a mine; “an'I’ll tell you what,
Body, he his whole frame excited at the
idea; “suspect any man like, but don't dar’
to- Thomas M‘ on”. , ‘ , .

Mixed and gave it a convuls—
ive grasp. “That's enough," said he; "but

 

you're wrong; I never did suspect you; but can

you blame me, laced as I am?"
“No, Itody— cannot; you are only doing
your duty ; see that ; an' right fit you are to
o it.”

“Wait till you know all,” said the Rover,
“if you did you‘d feel that there’s ablessin’
upon all our proceedings since the commence-
ment. Why, if it was only myself an' Alley
bein' brought to know one another ;——the dar-
lin' girl that she is. Now, do you know what,
Tom? Alley is a beautiful—a lovely girl;
every one knows that ; she’s the flower 0 the
parish, in face an’ figure; but, as I said, do
you know what first made me like her? I'll
tell you, I remarked-for there’s no denyin'
that my uncle gave me a religious education
—I remarked that no night or mornin’ ever
passed over her head, widout her goin' on her

nose an' snyin’ her prayers. Now, the girl
that does that will make a good wife."

“Ay,” said Tom; “an' I say, Rody, that
the boy that does it will make a good hus-
band : an' you are that boy.”

“Well, at any rate, I didn‘t brin it to the
family—I found it there," said the ver.

“ cu found it here, sure enough ; but still
you brought it, so far as you war consumed
yourself," replied Tom.

“Well,” said the Rover, with a cheerful
smile, “I .think all’s right now between us,
and that we undherstand one another ; ,an’ so
havin‘ settled our accounts upon business,
we’ll dhrop that art of the subject ; but don’t
you think that by the time we get home, an’
shaves an’ clanes ourselves up, it’ll be full
time to go to Mass—second Mass is out of the
question at the Forth ; so there's nothin’ for it
but last Mass at Aughindrummon.”

As Rody said, it did certainly appear, at
least in the eyes of this honest and
unsophisticated family, as if everything cone
nected with him was likely to br‘ a blessing
to them; or 'at all events to er, Awhom

they all loved so fondly—their dear Alice.

Our readers are aware of the growing attachment

which he contrived to implant in her inno~'

cent and uncontaminated heart; but they are
not aware of the force which that attachment
had already gained in the bosom of a confiding
girl, such as she was; where the feelings derive
strength from their very simplicity and purity.
She herself had very properly communicated
to her mother, Body’s views and roposals of
marriage; all of which‘were con ' ered by the
whole family as not only acceptable, but most
fortunate. The position. then, in which ,she
and Body stood, resembled that .of lovers, be.
trothed with the full sanction of their mutual,
friends, more than anything else. Body. how-
ever, who perfectly understood the full extent
of his influence over the unsuspecting girl’s
heart, was determined, that are they ported.
even temporaril , she should plight her troth to
him with that kind of solemn feeling, which
makes a young woman, placed as she was, look
upon her lover as one to whom she is bound by
ties almost as strong as marriage itscli.

On that Sunda evenin ,‘ as they went out to
take a walk,she elt'her cart weighed down
by the idea even of a temporary separation from
him; nor did she seem anxious at all to conceal
the cause of her love for him ; as why indeed
should she ?' Here was an exceeding y hand-
some young man, in circumstances of worldly
prosperity and independence, who loved her,
and to whom, with the full consent of her fam-
ly, she was about to be united in the sacred
bonds of matrimony. What. then, had a pure-
minded, warm-hearted, and‘simplc girl to con-
ceal under such circumstances? So far from
that, any coquettish and aflected attempu at
concealment would have been hypocritica and
out of all keeping with the candor and artless.
ness of her nature. v -

“Well, Alley," said he, “ nobod can say
whether a thing comes for good or il in one in
the b inin'-" '

“ng is that 2” said she; “ I don’t under—
stand oui" ’ ‘
.. “ Win ,"he continued, “the scrapeI got into
about at light, seemed a great draw-
back and misfortune to me‘ at first; but than

. . h, kw», w;

 

.,_,_......nn........,-.._'.;..‘... -. ___,-. . ._-.._.- . ,.

18

 

 

agin, whin I think that it was the means of
bringing me to know you, sure I can’t but look

1"

upon it use blessin.

_“ Well, a blessin’ to both of us, she replied,
With a sweet smile; “ for I'm not goin’
to let you deprive me of my share in it, any
way."

“Alley, don't talk that way, or you'll make
me love you too much: if you know how
every word you say, an every smile you give,
goes to my heart, you’d not be surprised at the
sorrow I feel in pui'tin’ from you, even for a
while."

“You haven‘t all that sorrow to yourself.
either," she replied, whilst her beautiful fea-
tures became overshadowed by tenderness;
“ I never knew what it was to love anyone till
I met you; an’ indeed, I couldn’t think that
your artin’ from me, as you say yourself,
even or a while, could fill my heart with 80
much heaviness," as she uttered these words,,
she was deeply affected. 9 . ,

“An’ you never did love any one before,
Alle ?" .

" ever, but yourself."

“What's your age now ?" he inquired, gaz-
ing on her with a look of fondness.

" I was nineteen." she replied, “ last month;”
and while speaking, she turned her two large
lustrous eyes upon him; she was at the mo-
ment in tears, with a look of such unutterablo
innooence, confidence, and afi‘ection, that it
might have disarmed the purposes of a
dent}. h '

“ need not ex ouw y ou‘re c ' ,' ‘
said he, ” because I lirnow it." y rymg

“No,” she replied, “ you need not; it's
strange," she added, “ I‘m happy, on“ yet I’m
sorrowful; but, indeed, you couldn‘t'believ‘e'
how much I feel bekaise you’re lavin’ me.’ I '

“An’ do you think I feel nothing 9'3."
he asked: “,however." he added, "131
make my own mind aisy before I go,
an’ 1yours too ;——but do you know howl”

“ 0," she replied, “I do not, but you will»
tell me." .

“ I will,” said he; “ we'll be book-sworn to
one another, and then we’ll be the same, in one
sense, as man an' wife.” '

“ But I don't like to swear," she returned :
“the say it's not lucky, except when one can't,» .
help t." ' " ‘ 7

“There's no harm in swearin’ thctruth,’ said
he; “it’s Only ignorant people that has that
notion.” ' ' , ' -

"‘But,”_ said she. “sure they say an oath'is"
not as hindin’ as'ahand-promise.” ' - v,

Body saw the superstition at once, and engen- ’
1y caught at it. ‘ . ' '

“.Indeed, Alle ,you are right " he " li'd' i.
‘ ‘ the hand-promise is the most bindin’ 

cept marriage itself ; an’ sure' they say it}: W. : . .

riage. whenever a priest can’t be had: share
no objection, then, to that ?—~Remim,bex, that
it’ll make us sure 0’ one another.” . ‘I,  ,
She hesitated forsometime : “Butwhese'nthcn
useof it,” she replied, “ nu’ we goin’ to bcmnr.
ried before long 9” . 3. 1;.
“Butit’s to make" my mind awful-9pm, .
"durin'our absence.” ~ w .
“Well, then,” said she, “if it’ll mah- yous,
mind sisy while your away, I will." . ,a - - ~ 
He then took her right hand in his, and: 
the presence of God,’ promised to 'V hay,”
and to in none other whilst she lived;  ,
which, she, yhisdireotiOn, tookhis inthesam'e _'
way, repeating the words as before, with the ex.
06 ' n of the proper substitution of names. .
Alice, whilst uttering the words. which wereof
very serious import, felt herself so completely
overcome by their solemnlty as well as y the
affection they indicated sndinvolved, thatsbe
burst into tears, which her now betrothed has:
band was permitted to kiss awe . This,oero-_
mony being over, thev returned_ me, and the
next morning, at daybreak, having spleen
of this aflecuonate and simple 1' y, of
Alice, who literally sobbcd with grief as shoe
had. him farewell, turned, 'hisfootsteps,‘ M 
said, towards his native parish‘of 

_.,,,’ .-..“ ..._- -g.

1‘

R01) Y THE R0 YER.

 

CHAPTER V.
A PEEP BEHIND THE scmvns.

01m scene now changes to a different and
distant locality. Near a large country town,
which must be namcless, stretches a hill, or
ascent of considerable length, as you leave it
in a southern direction. To the right of the
road, there is a handsome amphitheatre of
wood, somewhat like a crescent, in the 'centre
of which stands aneat, indeed an elegant white
house; evidently the residence of a man able
to support the rank and style of a gentleman.
This is clear from the warm air of the house
' itself, and the neat comfortable appearance of
the offices; the well-walled garden, and the
tastefully laid out lawn. In that house there
‘ is a stud neatly and easily furnished ; and in
that stu y, a little pale-faced man, with a keen,
meditative, but sinister expression of counte-
nance. The whole cast of his face is in truth
’ peculiar, but repulsive; his forehead, though
not high, is broad and constructive in its for—
mation; and between his head and his face
there is a want of proportion ; the upper part
of the former being unusually large, and the
features beneath it small, thin, and diminish-
ing towards the chin, which resembles the
small and of an egg. Altogether, it is the head
of aselfish, griping, plotting person; of one
who would have probably wasted a life or a
patrimony, if not both, in pursuit of the Philo-
sopher‘s stone, or an other of the grand ar-
cana which turned t e brains of so many Al-

 

up the proper tense, was in perfect keeping
vnth his character. Opposite his desk hung a
l_ skeleton map, filled partially up with charac-
 ters in cipher, which were known to none but
git himself, or those to whom he mi ht choose to
t

 

communicate the key to them. ver the chim-
v ney- iece was a picture of King William the
This, mounted upon a charger, and a pic-
;ture of ' the battle of the Boyne, done in
Orangeworsted, with King James the Brave
making his escape u on a white woollen
‘ horas, 1n the distance; or the rinciple of the
fair artist, whoever she was, ev1dentl did not
safer hertodeem his majesty wort my of es-
‘caping on more appropriate wors . The
room, in fact, was hung round with mementoes
of partylztrife that had been long .the roperty
ofthe 'torian, aswellasby roofso strong
political feeling. The very in -bottle had its
prejudioeabeing nothing more nor less than a
I ronze figluro, of Governor Walker, holding his
hat, whic was filled with ink, in one hand,
and pointin with the other. we supposegto
the walls of ; whilst on the 1', 'of the
little gentleman’s snuff-box was King William
again, wanting an eye, his portly nose having
to allappearance been nearly demolished by
i an inveterate cancer, brought on by the pres—
sure of the thumb, whenever the lid was
opened or shut. r -
The hour at which the little gentleman has
been presented to the reader is? about five
o'clock, r. in, and he has not been many
minutes insthe'atudy since be dressed for din-
ner. Short as the time was. however, he pon-
/ trived to mark down upon a paper some few
-memomnda, which he read; over once or twice
u. . .and corrected. At length a. knock mme,.the
A ‘ 'bollmngendssthe servant assed to open
‘ ' the door, his master simply said, “‘ If . that is
Mr. Ogle show him up to the drawing.er
Y , andsay I will be there immediately;‘ but, John,
. , odeobnasLeeper comes brin him in here:
' that is, ifhe comes in about went minutes,
for otherwise I cannot see him unti after din-
. not.” Deeper. however, did not come, and the
little gentleman. having locked out of th'e win-
dow,‘ as if ex cting some one with great im~
patience. at ength ad carried to the drawing-
room  something 'kc an air of disappoint-

.A :.-.-..~.z;_,xa.r. Meg-.13}- _

 

' i, went. ,  ‘ ,
is. ‘ ' Some four hours ‘have already ela sod,
and the little dinner party, cons sting
g,‘ of,"three gentlemen, including our host,
' are‘sltting in'the back parlor, one of them

i f ' punch, the host taking a’ comfortable

‘  wine, and the third siagping a little

' _ :iimeto time, (but not inf drinking),
with an exceedingly placid air. One of his

I

 

 

r r” we

chemistic Projectors. His study is~or to take

'. “It' is done,'.in

 

guests was a common-looking man, of very
coarse and vul ar manners ; ovcrqlresscd in
such a way, as if he imagined that his dress
alone constituted him a gentleman. His fin-
gers were loaded with rings, and from his fob
was suspended an enormous bunch of gold
seals. His father had been first Steward, and
subsequently, Agent, to an eccentric old noble-
man in the neighborhood, under whom he con-
trived to amass a very tolerable fortune, which
his son now inherited. ’Tis true, it was late
in life when thm chance of feathering his nest
was presented to him; and the consequence
was, that his worthy son, born to but humble
prospects, had received only a limited educa-
tion. He was now, however, worth about ,two
thousand a year ; but as his claims to associate
with the gentry of the country were not recog-
nized, he felt exceedingly anxious to fall upon
some plan that might give him such a station
in society as would occassion him to be received
among his betters. Such is a brief history of
the large overalressed gentleman with the red
face.

The other guest was a thin, tall man, remark-
able for great suavity of manner and a low in-
sinuating voice. He was distantly related to a
man of good family, who held a high ofiicial
situation in the castle, and was supposed to
have some interest in procuring appomtments,
The tall, thin man’s intellect was by no means
of a very acute character ; on the contrary, he
had never been the master of three ideas that
he could honestly claim as his own. He was
in short, one of those soft, mild, feeble-minded,
milk and water creatures, with ens plausible
manners, that are so often met wit in society
and whom you will see at a party, seated over
beside a sofa, in conversation with three or
four old women, each of whom can beat him
on any topic he may select, and all of whom
are delighted with “Dear Mr. Curd; he is so
amiable ; so soft and listh in his manners,
and so intelligent. at a ity that the‘world
does not contain more men ike Mr. Curd I Is
he not a deli htful creature ?" Quite a trea-
sure, Miss ruet ; and was the delight of a
small twparty iven by Miss Willow, on Fri-
day evening." Euch was the party who were
eng ed in the following conversation :

“ at what so rises me," said the large man,
the same whom’ harpe called Mr. Ogle; “what
surprises me;—is. how you can manage such
matters." 4

“ Why,” replied our host, ” the thing is very
easily accounted for, Mr. Ogle; I happen to
have some brains here." '

“Where!” said Ogle, who happened to. be
looking out of the back window into the ger-
den at the moment. ‘

" Where i” exclaimed our host. repeating the
word, and looking at him with a, rise; “ why,
in my pocket, to be sure; isn't t where a
man carries his brains, Mr. Forde?" _,

“ Excuse me, Mr. S . but I should think
in his head," replied the point-blank Mr.
Ford's. ‘ . -

"0h," said 8 “ that alters the case;
but I can tell you erc’s many a man carries
his brains in his pocket, for all that."

“Well, I assure you, Mr. Sharpe, I never
heard of such a.case.”. . r, _

.“Nor I," observed Ogle,_ “ in all my life."

“Faith,” said Sharpe, “' and. whatis more, it
not only happens, but I can tell you that there
is one of on sitting at in table .this minute
with his rains in his poc et—ha, ha, ha l"

“Come, how is that? " said Ogle; “search
your-pockets, Mr. Forde,” he added, address-
mg that gentleman, who only smiled. I

“.Why, ' said Sharpe, “ don't you know the
man that has a strong purse can purchase the
use of other people‘s
purchase mine, —mine, there era, are yours for
the time; so that, without much logic. you
may easily see how the thing . can, be done——
your purse and another person's brains being
convertible terms.”

“Ay,” said Ogle, "‘that's‘ very good—at all
events, every man hasn't yOurs, Mr. Sharpe;
however, are you certain the thing can be

done?” .. I ‘ V I ‘
' t, of fact," replied the

other; “ and I eve our friend Fords here,

rains ;— on. for instance, ‘

_of' conspiring against law, hit}

“.5 ._

knows that we are not Without some influence
at the Castle.”

“ I know it,” replied Forde ; “ for I believe
it is only a few days since I received a letter
from my relative, in which allusion was made to
you, as a person who has rendered great ser-
vices to the country and the government.”

“ And there is no way in which I could serve
them? " asked Ogle ; “ I certainly amaswilling
to serve the government as any man alive.”

“No,” said the little fellow; “as soon as you
shall have got your commission, I would recom—
mend you to lead a quiet life, as a country mag-
istrate,at least fora while.

“But you are a country magistrate," replied
Ogle, “ and yet you can serve the government,
and don’t lade a quiet life."

“By the bye, Forde, have yOu that document-
about you,” asked Sharpe ; “ I mean the letter
from your cousin; because if you have, I will
thank you to show Mr. Ogle that passage. My
dear sir,” said he, turning to Ogle; “ 1 do not
lead exactly a very quiet life either; but if you
said an active life, and a busy life, it would
come nearer the truth. Many districts of the
country are in such a state of disturbance, that
no man who values public tranquility, can, or
ought to lead an inactive life, especially where
there is so much to be done ; always supposing,
Mr. Ogle, that his birth, connections, and edu—
cation, are such as qualify him for takings. con-
spicuous part in measures that are calculated to
tranquilize the coun .”

“ I know," said 03 e, “ that on the score of
birth, I can‘t 0 far ; and as for larning an’
edication, I ave'nt been overstocked with 1
them ; still I say, a commission would give me-
a great lift in the world.”

” Unquestionably," replied Sharpe ; " and
my advrce to you is, that on getting your Com-
mission for the Peace, you Will not seek in the
beginning—now you will excuse me, Ogle ;
you are aware that I know all our circum-
stances and history. as does F0 e. here ; and
indeed who does not ?——so, I say you will ex-
cuse me for speaking so plainly ; very well—
you must not, in the be ing, obtrude your-
self too much in an o cial way among your
brethren on the Bench, as too many other-up-
starts do ; but bear iyour honors modestly and
meekly, and with t e eatest. deference and.
respect toward them. a short time they
will begin to say to one another. ‘Eh. Cooper,
this fellow Ogle is not so bad after all ; the ras.
cal has some modesty in him ; he doesn't
thrust himself forward as Beatty did ; what do
you think but he refused to back awarrant the
other day, until I should back it first. New I
say that was knowing his station, and as he is
one of us, why, I’ll ask him to dinner! This,
Ogle, is your cue. However, never mind, I‘ll
drill 1you admirably m self."

f‘ at, pardon me, . Sharpe. YO“ k110me
magistrates don't like you."

"No, because I’m a riend to the poople ; be-
cause they know me to be honest ; and that I
tell the truth in the quarter where I have influ-
ence, and they have not. Fords, my good fel-
low, upon second cOnsideration, I think on
may as well read all the letteras a part 0 it.
Show Ogle the cover ; there it is, you see,
marked private, with a castle frank, and the
words, ‘ 0n IE3 Majesty’s Service,’ in Agood black
print on the back 0 it. Read orig, :will

on ‘1’” I i
y Fords accordingly read as follows :
/ v - “Dumas Cum.
(Private.)

"My Dun Sm: In reply to yours of the
10th, I beg to say, that although there has
been at resent no outbreak in the dis-
trict of Ba ybracken, yet the Government have
reason to believe that ' the seeds of a popular
commotion are shooting into a rapid growth in

that part of the country ; a circumstance which,
unfortunately, is not peculiar to that immediate

locality. At present, the government are in ,

communication with a gentleman who isadmir-

ably qualified to develop this per-uglier“ system
W 9

which it seems is there gaming stre

 

Should it be crushed or suppressed, without. any

d.

‘same one, begad, that we’ve been r

EODY THE ROVER.

ll

 

 

outbreak of popular violence, it is not likely
that your friend, Mr. Ogle, can now succeed in
getting an appointment to the bench ; although
I admit that his claims. as proprietor of the
mines in that neighborhood, are certainly strong.
If, however, on the contrary, the peace of that
district should become disturbed, it is likely—
perhaps certain, notwithstanding agocd deal of
opposition from certain quarters, that he will be
appointed. Government has received very
valuable instructions from your neighbor, Mr.
Sharpe, on this particular subject; a subject
which no man seems to understand so well, or
can trace so successfully. I think you had bet-
ter consult him, as I know of scarcely any per-
son who possesses more substantial influence
with government, nor who has rendered greater
or more important. or more honorable services
to it and the country at large. Of course, I can-
not violate ofilcial secrecy by being more com-
municativerand must therefore conclude, by
assuring you,
“That I am, my dear sir,
“ Very sincerely yours,
“ Tnonas J. Truman.

“ Christopher Fords, E ."

“There is little doubt horde. but on will
procure him the appointment," said ‘ arpe;
“it cannot be in better hands ; as I said, the
thing is done, if any man of common sense
can understand-a letter."

“My relative has every influence with the
under-secretary, who indeed is the acting
mun," replied Forde, in his low, calm voice;
“and as for myself, I assure on, I have no
mis 'vin in the matter, Mr. 16.”

“ egs ," said Ogle, "I hope they'll make
me a magistrate, at all events; at any rate,
when I at my commission I'll give you all a
rousin' eed."

“Show me the letter a moment,” said
Sharpe; "listen, Ogle, to this passage, and
mark it : ' If on the contrary, the of the
district should become disturbed, it is likel —
perhaps certain. notwithstanding a good eal
of opposition from certain quarters, that he
will be appointed ;‘ he then makes allusion to
myself. and of' course overrates me; but no
matter, I have a bit of brains left still ; well
mark this, though; do you think it likely,
Ogle, that when a district like Ballybracken
ets into the state described by Forde's friend
gore—do you think, I say, that things will go
on without an outbreak?’

“ Begad, I don‘t think it is ; but it’s hard-to
say 5 on the other hand, after all, thin s may
go on quietly in, the long run ; an' as or my-
self, begad—an' dang my hon . but I'd rather
never be a magistrate than vo any blood
spilled, or lives lost, anyhow—.es'pedany my

own. ,
' “Here. Fords, is your letter,” said 8h ;
“ and now, 0 1e, just throw yOur eye over t
one," said he, ending each a letter. _

"This is a mistake," said Ogle; ‘_‘it‘s the
coding“,

“There is certainly a mistake,” observed
Fords; "this letter is addressed to the Rev.
Darby, M'Dowdle, Postromce, Crossinacrack-
w )V r .

“Show—show." said Sharpe, taking the let-
ter quickly out of Forde's hands, “ yes, 1‘81!“
the wrong letter, certainly." " ‘

“Butxwho the ~‘deuce is the Rev. Daily
M'Dcwdle?" asked Ogle; some priest, beg .
I’ll wager—ha. ha. ha " ' .

"It would, be a yery curious/thing," said
Fordeg'do find Mr. Sharpe in correspondence
with a Popish Priest 1”

*‘ “Bead that," said Sharpe
letter triumphantly; “ there is, however, a bit
a! a. moist in it, Fords, between Ogle and me,”
he added, addressing the latter.

Ogle read as follows :

' 1 “LONDON.

Iv "-‘Ihue justreceived your letter'which fol-

iowod Inc to London, and have merely time to

say, that immediately on my return’ to Dublin

I shall have the  concerning yglur hiend's

.ppointmo' nt atten to and grants ’
“Very faithfully yours, ,

‘ “‘Tsouu M

“ Under Secretary.”

 

, handing Ogle a,

 

and

“Short and sweet,” said 0 1e, in an evident
soliloquy; he then continue to read aloud:
“ don’t go home with this poor curd of a devil,
Forde, until we discuss matters between our-
selves ;—let him go by himself.”

“ What the devil are you about, Ogle ?" said .

Sharpe, hastily interrupting him;—“ eh ?—
well,” he added, changing to good humor, “ ha,
ha, hal—after all, Forde, there is nothing like
being above board; I wanted to ive Ogle a
hint to stay and have a glass of randy and
water after you wore gone; and surely you are
a poor curd of a devil," he added, “for you
don’t drink. Why, Ogle, you blockhead, didn't
you see that what you read was written in
pencil; and besides, was my own handwriting."

“ Begs. " replied Ogle, “I didn’t know I was
reading aloud till you spoke.”

“ Ah," returned the other, “you’re a bright
subject for the magisterial bench. However,
never mind; hand me the letter, and take your
punch. Come, Fordeymioin us in a glass of
punch, and I’ll never you names again.”

“Much obliged," replied Forde, drily; “you
know I don't drink; however, lest I may be a
bar to your enjoyments, I will bid you both
good-night." '

“ Go to the drawing-room,——have some tea,”

said the little fellow, “ and Emily will play you '

a tune. How could you read out what you
might have Seen at a glance to have been de-
signed only for yourself?" said She. e,’ina tone
of re oof. “ The fellowis a fool, grant you;
but en he’s as vain on Some points as he is
weak in all; however, it doesn‘t matter. My
plan, Ogle, I wish to tell you, is this, and I
think you will admit it to be a good one. . This
fellow, Forde, is the man who ostensibly is pro-
curing the magistracy for on. Now, what do
you think is my object in is? Simply to save
yaw character from any future discoveries or
in: utations, astoucning what might be termed
bri ry on your  if it should come, to be
known. Now, suppose such a. charge should be
brought against you which could only be on
the supposition that you could not kesg,0 your
own secret/“do you not see that the vern-
ment themselves, having granted the appoint-
ment at For-de’s solicitation, could never sus-
pect you. of payinug1 me tor it, and as Vfor Forde,
the poor devil co d swear that he never re-
ceiveda farthing from you; and you, that you
never paid him one on account of it. So for, so
; that settles that: and if‘you and I should
. named, donot the Government know again
that I never got you a magistrwy from, them.
So that, through my management, we have the
Government itself to bear witness tfor our ‘m-
tegri y in each case. Do younot callthatskin?
—eh? ha, . ha", ha. 1" - ' -

“w.”~ . er  
Sharpeat’dupligcgty,~“glfl I get 0:: commission.

Begad, and dong my bones, you shall, find line

honorable." .
. “. Well, butyou pay me the first five',hun-
’ rding to ourhgreo-

dred this evening, acco

ment." , .

“Certainl , sir—honor bright, Mr. Sharpe
Begad, and my withe but you. uld
beat a matchm er. Here is ve notes 9 « the

Bank of Ireland, each for around hundred."
“Very well, my dear Ogle, you ma .con-
sider yourself as good. as on the bent: 5 and
now for a lobster and a glass, of brandy. and
watler, amino more about business for, this
nig Ln ' V V .
The supper havingbeen discussed, Ogle, big
with the ambition of rising to the magistncy,
wished his host a good night, and sou his
bed, where he dreamt that he signed J. . after
his name, which he knew right well stood for

Justice of Quorum.

 

CHAPTER yr
m 01.1) mm wrrn a m nor.
Wm Ogle had gone, Sharpe stood with his

elbow on the charms ieeo and for a few , w  -, 
yp ' ' “Someiypbutmhmbeuhdaoutm,

minutes peered to muse deeply. “Well,”
thought he, “there is at on rate a good thouso
pounds securod‘;—-and all becausefthat

' that'is no reason wh

 

vulgar blockhead wishes to be considered a
gentleman; which he thinks he cannot be—-
heaven help him—unless he is raised to the
digmty of a magistrate; just as if they were

convertible terms; whereas it frequently hsp- '

pens that no two characters are more antitheti-
cal to each other. "

He then rang the bell, and the servant on-
tered. '

“ Is Mr. Fords in the drawing-room ?" he
asked. ‘

“No, sir; he went away immediately after
leaving the dining-room." '

“Did Mr. Leeper call since I last inquired.
about him '3” v .

“No, sir.”
h. “ If alive, h: will be hereto-night yet," said

ismaster, “ ee asha. e e orrather. sharp

eartothedoorfgndiflhfiiy, “
here." i

“I shall, sir." ' , a ' - ’

“Now,” proceede.. _.e, continuing his solilo—
quy after the servant had gone ; “ ple would
say, if I could be discovered, that. am onto!
those men who tradeupon the crimes uni 9PM
rages of the people. Granted, and,.a~.,good
trade I find it. But am I the firsth hasdono
so? ‘AmIthefii-stthathasby, means picni-

' first WWI th

and afterwards won the confidence Qt  
Suspecting government.  dis-
coveries of the very prinoi es whichgwe. have
ourselves secretly implanted among then? M

I smnot the first, and I will not
for so long as the alousaid 
senseless enough to WWW Whore .
always plenty of those I who
waters togive it to them.” 
despise the admonitions of MLM:
andottheirbestandtruest ' .

any great harm in taking themmtoour :handl.
ondturnmgtnom, attheirown tow:
account. A8 for my part. ‘m.m 0! dis-

covery; taking care. as I About)“ ,inskI-‘

means _I' work with, though 4'91} MM
to my pm aiggnsiofiintsmou,
e o (realm-ow
their part, would bemutcd by the world, {Bo-
sides, I have them- in my 90 . and waits
best of it. As for Lee r,—but cur'so Mini-—
hist, sy. there he is; I , ‘
to disappointme." , {ennui ~ ., .
The words had scarcely issued from' Hindi ‘
when ourfrien'd Body, drossed'iilrh‘vm’weht
suit‘of black, ‘onscrcd'thd ‘  '
mode a kind of obeiscnoo’ tor ,'

amateur-dynamicame ,

LEE 3

the irony, however, being, so Very‘

comes, show him in

mergedinthe serious, that no eye amount I

untouched-ire: indeed could have nascent: 

“11h, Leeper, is this you? {than hi;I ' '
were about to fail merpmy’fv g. 'rfi jm
after you—‘4Wcll;‘.but‘iirst‘ may; ‘ 
are ou?"‘_"v,- " "‘ ‘ 
" y, as lwell as the anxiety 
 from a veofldafgiml- and '

won rm'itnne. " . V'
pa {should not?

      

a

     
   

 

pre arod for.a,su_
wor  as thcyhssy; 'auw ‘m “a,
“ omtow at 0, on. ,vde. . 7.
to the outstandhig afliiir, I hoper,‘ ,  'l , .
“‘Not‘at all ; but to the risk,1.,m-ia;thiuw
business." . ‘ :,‘,  , , pl? 1 ,‘-y,"f. '-
'"“In you can thereon: be no greats-ink,
Lee er; your powers are too 'Protoanmysptq
in a: you to be detected : however, jet.
pass far the present. Give me a full and.
root statement of what you have done? in
words, hit-your success been equal to .w _ j
expected?" , ~ . ,,. 4i].-

, ‘ 1 ..

. “ Considerany beyond it ; I 'havcvtldodunr

j try about Ballybmcken in such "tat-,1 that: In
a month's time you may have it W‘» V‘ ’1

“And
safe?" , . ..
“Mysolfandyou..and’ollnfs."  .. 1r"
"Nopossihlcnhsnocofd 7? ~

yourself safe and unmpootdgmd

 

unity,“ must tclhwtbcdid MM
{removing the yam.ng ai'wimm
v .,  i;

c. inf} .jri“

r

. ., transit and ‘ 

.th

gay flaccid; i ,5: i

I
q,

.i

 

 

 

 

 

pnxf _. 44,—...

.fiaw, “We.-. .

 . .- he”:

BODY THE ROVER.

 

 

mentalit
name is 'Mahon.’

“ Why, have you any apprehensions from
him ?”

"None 113120 the destruction of our designs ;
but there is a probability that I may, ere long,
have some us regarding my own personal safety.
Ithink he's beginning to sicken of it; or in
other words, to regret, in consequence of the
unsettled state to which it has brought the
:17? hborhood, that he ever had anything to do

t it,

“ Then, in that case, you will adopt the old
method."

“I think so f legally, he can do me no
injury ; I have taken care of that ; but morally,
or rather physically, he may, by denouncing
me to those over whom he has influence; if he
should suspect me~as suspect me he will."

“ I don’t understand you;———how do you—
how can you know that '3"

“ Perfectly well ;-——he has a sister.”

“ Ah,——I see, whom you have debauched ?"

/“ No, not at all—you are quite mistaken; she

I introduced our principles ;—his

' is incapable of being corrupted."

‘ "‘ Well, then, what do you mean '1’"
-' ‘ “ You shall know that in due time; but, at
all events, it will be necessary, as well on her
account-as for the sake of our complete success,
thatthe brother should be removed."
“ Inwhich sense '1'" - »
‘ "‘ In either; but I should prefer transporta-
tion;-his removal from the country is quite
enough for our purpose ; so that hanging him
lane} in fact necessary."
, Body, as'we shall still- call him, seems to ex-
' ‘ some very painful sensations at this

*‘ What‘s the matter with you '1’" asked Sharpe;
buthc’immediately checked himself, as a man
would who felt that in asking 'the question he
was probingan old sow—reviving a disagree-
able reminiscence :" no matter,” he proceeded;
5‘ I  understand what you feel tolerany

" 1“ You are altogether mistaken, " replied Body;
” what I felt is not weakness, for of that I am
incapable; the truth is, I feel fatigued and
jaded.” / r ‘ '

Ifi‘Taks‘ some refreshment," said Sharpe;
“,the‘rfisnbrandy, wine, and whiskey—please

 "I’ll  a‘glamof brandy and water, then,”
laid the other, helping himself as he spoke;
tonne—iota what of mml weakness in my

and you ought to know that, cer-

-.“ hops,” said Sharpe, “there'sno .man
utterlyfrosfrom some ,rtion of it; so that
it is notneccssar 'you s ould apologize for it ;
hawever. proceedv. ' _

Body. having swallowed the glass of’brand
and‘ water; seomad' completely reassured, an
resumed, the ,oonversation with more confl:
deuce. " ‘ ‘

, ":If you wish to have that art of the coun-

, try proclaimgd.” he proceed , ” you have little

time to lose. _
_ .tpnquestionably‘l' do wish it—and soon,

" "So much the better,” to lied Body, smiling;
l'otherwise are is some anger that my pas-
" may in rforo with my politics.” I

' ‘ ,‘f‘What, M'Mahon's sister  ?"

'7“I"rocisel ; she is inacosss bls by the ordi-
 ssduction; I must consequently
a x  her through a more legitimate

Sharpe started. “ Are u seriously fond of
magi," he asked, " and {robe handsome ?"

. ‘f e would grace the ooronet of a countess,"
repliedBody; “her person is beautiful ;' but,
atthssametimc, I can assure you. with. truth,
that my passionvfor her is not overburthened
with sentiment."

N Be cautious in that," replied the other ;

“ you know there is always den or wherever a
woman is canoes-ed. You the people as
osadubus. and as easily imposed. on a over?”

a ".flssta'mly; and the are of opinion that
was“: leaders are at the bothm of the

bousystom; thatithasoriginatcdfmm

 

them, and that nothing but fear of the luwl
prevents them from publicly avowing it."

“All right, and just as we wish. Why,
really, Leeper, it is impossible to resist the.
temptation of misleading a people so besotted 1
as this. They will believe these things, !
although they know that their lenders have,
already denounced Ribbonism in every possi-:
ble form of language; they know, too, thutf
their own clergy have done the same ; and yet '
no sooner does some scoundrel impouter like

on 77”

“Thank you, Sir," said Rody, laughing——
“ but, at the same time, while you abuse the
tool, you don‘t forget the workman who uses
it.” .
“ I beg your pardon, Leeper; I did not mean
to offend you."

“ Never mind that," said Leeper; “ it’s not a.
trifle should occasion us to quarrel—proceed."

“ Well, no sooner does some rascally im-

postor assume their dress, language, and res
igion, than they permit him to lend them
through the means of secret and senseless con-
federacies, into the very traps thus laid for
them; yes, and to lead them without the or-
dinary precaution on their part, of in uiry into
his true name, character, lace of irth, or
business in the'country. W 1y, upon my word,
Leeper‘, it’s a pleasure—so to speak—to mislead
a people, who, it w0uld seem, are benton being
misled.

“Yes,” replied Leeper; “but do you know
in what light they understand these denun-
ciations on the part of their leaders?"

“Not exactly; it is enough for our purposes
that they neglect them.”

“Their impression and belief are, that their
leaders, in denouncing Ribbonism, are not
serious—that they do so to blind and mislead
the government, which otherwise might sus-

ect the leaders themselves to belong to it. In
fact I agree with you; it would be a pity not to
turn such besotted credulity and gross ignorance
to agnie accountzilforwhich reason I’ll drink, in
goo ran —- t th ma Ion continue
du ain‘th nds o titeng enymieg!” easy
6 then detail , at more length, the means
by which he introduced his ' ions doctrines
into the hitherto peaceable andindustrious town
and :fifihborhood of >Ballybracken, and dwelt
with 'gnant triumph on the rapidity with
which they had already spread over the coune
t . '

“ And now, ’ said he, “ so far as‘we are con-
cerned, there is little more necessary. All that
is to be’ done, is to'afliliate the Ballybracken
aflair with that which we have formed in the
metropolis, from which they will receive their
signs and passwords. The systemwill be then,
as in fact it is, a self-acting one, that will re-
quire little further impulse from us. However,
now to proceed to another subject—I want
money." ' V

“I never had less to spare; however, you

, have some. There are thirty pounds.”
“ I will not take it."
“ Why so?”

“ It is uite inadequate—I must have fifty.”

“ Must ve !" " ‘

“I will not acce 't less.” I

“ But why use 1: s term must with me P"

“ Simply, " replied Body, firmly, “because
when, I say it I mean it. Do you imagine,
although you keep me in the dark as to your
real design in implanting this system among the
people, that I am so besotted as to believe you
reap no personal advantage from it ?"

“None in life, except the gratification of a
general principle."

“ ‘A general principle l”

“Yes, a general principle; and that 'n»
ciple is one which opposes the idea of ug-
land making any concession whatever to
Popery.” '

“I do not understand."

“Do you know, my good, easy, sim lo fel-
low. that so long as we can attach a c aracter
of insubordination, violation of law, disregard of
life andpropertfloand habits of bloodshed and
murder-Jo the man Catholic inhabitants and

 

Roman Catholic districts of the country, Eng-

land and her legislators will look upon them
as unfit to be trusted with civil privileges
or political power? Do you not understand
that l"

“ I do: but I do not see how that is a per—
sonal matter to you, beyond what it is to
thousands in and above your rank of life, who
do not go so far as to pay for corrupting the
people."

“ That is simply becauSe I’m a warmer friend
to my party, and a bitterer enemy to Popery,
than all of them put together."

Our readers will perceive here, that Sharpe
was playing the same game with Body that
Rody played ith Thomas M’Mahon. Body
suspected strongly that Sharpe had a much
deeper personal interest in the propagation of
Ribbonism than he chose to avow, for he knew
the latter too well to believe for a moment that
he would go such lengths as to touch hispurse
for the support of a general principle, at least
without strong hopes of remuneration in sun)
shape from some quarter. ‘

“I am not satisfied with your reasoning," he
replied; “because I feel—and you will excuse
me for saying so—that it wants that which all
reasoning ought to have, a principle of convic-
tion."

“Oh, as to that,” said Sharpe “since, your
simplicity or want of comprehension renders it
necessary, I can give you an abundance of rea-
sons why a certain class should wish to see Bib-
bonism revail. For instance: are there no
bad Ian ords or bad agents in the country, no
bigots, who would feel glad to be able to plead
the outrages of the people in justification of
their own oppression? "

“But what kind of reasoning is this from
you? "

“Tut, man, I can see the truth as well as any
one; but I am now laying the matter naked in
support of my own conduct. Is it not a conve-
nient thing for many a mantobe able to say
—‘ these people on my property are, turbulent,
disloyal, and dangerous; I must get rid of
them; ' and in point of fact, he is right-«their
conduct justifies his argument and the conclu-
sion he comes to. Don't you see now thatI
am serving my party?"

“ At the expense of the unfortunate people."

“I grant it; but that is no afiair either of
yours or mine. '

“ But it is your generosity that surprises me;
foryou will pardon me again-nit is very well
known that no man loves money more than you
do, or can turn it to better account.”

_“I grant that, too; but this is my particular
hobby, and there is the truth of it. I love
plotting and scheming naturally; and feeling
that I do, I look upon it as a more virtuous
course of action to make such a penchant sub-
servient to the interestsof my party—and that’s
all I know about it.”

“ I wonder your expulsion from the Orange
system did not 'cool much of your attachment
to the party yon are laboring for.”

‘ “No, Leeper, that isa proof to you that I,
am above merely personal considerations. I
beg you to mark the ” ‘

‘ do, and shall; and upon the strength of
it, I expect fifty pounds instead of thirty. ‘

,This was rather catching him in his own,“-
fall; and though he cursed Lower-infill hart
for  dexterity, yet he felt that withoutplsc.
ing his practice in opposition to his theory, he
could not readily refuse the money. ' -

H Yery well,’ he replied, “ if it were only to
convince you finally, you shall have i ” -

“You‘will also not for at your solemnoln
gagetment to provide me a overnmaut appoint.
men ." ' .

“You know that every promise I have made
you is conditional. Contmus to . deserve my
confidence.
When the Ballybracken alfair is ripe, and drawn
to a head, I shall immediately commence 

sider your interests, alwaysbe it  .

upon the same condition." . _ .

“ Thank you—this, now, is but just; for you
know Irun all the risk. But before I go, let
me ask if you have heard any vague rumors

There are fifty pounds for you, "

 

BODY THE RO VER.

_ ____, .___ __ _,-___

..-. -. ..., -

 

 

about what some of the countrymen call a Black
Committee ?”

The Rover, as he put this question to Sharpe,
kept his eye steadily fixed upon his face; but
Sharpe, whether conscious or not of any con-
nection with a committee bearing such an ill.
vomened name, appeared to hear the interroga-

tory with perfect indiderence.

‘ A. Black Committee," he replied; “no, I
have heard nothing of it. What do they mean
by a Black Committee ? " ‘

“ Faith that is more than I can tell you, or
probably they themselves; but a rumor is
abroad that there exists such a thing as a Black
Committee, and what is more, that you are one
of them.”

This last assertion was an addition of his
own; or rather, we should say, the whole cir-
cumstance was so; the fact, in truth, being that
no ch report had at that period gone abroad.

Ha! he !that is comical enough too," said
Sharpe ; “ I a member of a Black Committee !
They have selected a bad color, though; but I
suppose this is some malignant calumny sent
abroad by the Orangemen.”

‘.‘ Why by the Orangemen?"

“ Surely, you‘know it’s not now a secret that
they charged me with making improper com-
municatioan a great leading member in o -

sition to the government—the great Whig

ember for———, in England." ’

"And," said Rod smiling significantly, “ per-
ha s these were rig t ; let us su pose you were
on y indulging your hobby ha, ha, ha! ”

“No, no; they did me injustice there, and
this is some calumny of theirs; but what further
did on hear about this Black Committee P "

“ 1y, faith, that they are actinglvery much

.stter Our own fashion: first corrupting, and

than betraying. It’s reported that there is a
gering Castle Back and Lawyer, who
to es the said Committee how to involve the
people in illegal proceedings in such a way as
that the law cannot take hold of them—of the
Committee, I mean, and not of the people, who
are sure tosufler. It is also said, that they cor
respond by cipher,‘that they have maps that can
be understood only by themselves, and that
they play adouble game between government
and the people u n the schoolboy principle,
that none can dn so wall as they who hide.”

Body, whilst communicating this intelli nce
to Sharpe, kept, as we have said, his eye en-
ly and scorchineg fixed upon his countenance.
The scrutiny, however, was inefl'ectual. Not a
muscleof Sharpe’s face up disturbed. He
looked at Body as an in 'flerent person who
was listening to something of no great conse-
quence, that excited in him a little surprise at
the time, but nothing more. , ' ~

“ I thought," said Rody,‘ “ thatthere was no.
body in the field but ourselves.” ,

“ Tut, man, our predecessors have been in the
field for years," replied S e. “ It is now
late, however and you must c of. I leave
the bracken afl'air to your own manage-
ment. 'you choose to make a pounce on
M'Kahan and him, why, perhaps, it
is afoot; in that case, Malone and Gubby are
your men. All I say is, don't let the girl get too
much influence overyou, and let me see you on
the night after to-morrow."

He then rang the bell, and the servant sp-

“ Here, Ayleton, let out Mr. Lceper, and,
afterwards p co a candle in my bedroom."
“ The candle is there, sir. already,” said Ap-

n. .
He then opened the hall-door for Leeper, and
gen laying it too, step outside, and whis-
‘whilc he thrust a etter into his hand. i
“ Wait in the stable till he goes to bed. I
left it ' ly en.”
lie on steppe quietly into the "hall, and
shut and secured the door, as if he had not gone

' outatall."

Shummazement st Body's allusion to the
Black to ittee w: beyoenad the wer of Ian-
We express. epac the oorinastate
of voxation almost bordering on frenzy. Some.
times he stopped suddenly, then went on, and
paused again. _At one moment he would make

a motion of impatience by whisking his open
hand through the air, and again he would
strike his shut list into the alm of his other
hand, still accompanying eac act with language
well suited to his gestures.

“In the name of all that’s treacherous and
deceitful, how could this Protean scoundrel
have come to the knowledge of these matters?
Let me see r-lct me see—~how could be? How
is it posslble? Could I betray myself—and un-
less I could, I see no earthly means of penetrat-
ing that aflair~ none. It is impossible. I
am a sober man—cautious almost ten. fault.
Yes, I am a sober munnnot likely to get drunk
and blab~and yet how could this knavish Pro-
teus get at it? Curses consume him! He has
got a key somehow. I know it by the confident
—no, the impudent air with which he watched
my face whilst catechising me upon it. _ No one
has access to my private papers. Emily, in-
deed, might occasionally—but no — the girl has
no more suspicion of my se’crets than a child;
and yet. who else could ?—Tut, as to her, the
nation’s ridiculous. However, I know my
polic . The moment I shall have gotten out
of this vagabond all I want, he must be taught
a lesson. It is well, indeed, that he is in my
power »—but then again, could it be possible that
he has me in his? Curses on him, at all events
——curses on the villain ! I shall soon dispose of
him—soon dispose of him l"

He their proceeded to examme his private
drawers and papers, all of which he found in a
state of admirable securitywn'ot a sin leappear-
ance of disorder or disarrau ementfliut every
thing just exactly as he left it. Having
satisfied himself in this matter, he then with-
drew, and after some further time 8 ent in
striving to get a. clue to Body’s know edge of
the Black Committee, he went to bed and fell
asleep. ‘ V

Appleton, finding that he was now at liberty,
went by the back to the stable, bearing a dark
lantern in his hand, by the aid of which Body
perused the letter. 7 .

. “Tell her,” said'ho, “that I am to be here
the night after to—morrow, and that I will bring
an answerto this with me, which you," he ad-
ged, addressing Appleton, “can convey to

er. "

- Appleton looked at him, and, shutting one
e 9 very significantly, nodded his head: “ All
right," he replied, “it will go safe; so make
you mind easy on that head. Faith, Mr. Lceper,
you’re the boy for bewitchin’ them. Then,
blood alive, how when, or where did you con-
trive to come round her at all? Anyhow, you'll
have one comfort—the devil a many that knows
the same lady an’ the ton us she has, will envy
you when you get her. gall purshue the great-
erthiefrin Europe than she is. She can keep
her croobs from nothin' that she takes a mncy
to; an’, between you an' me, it's not the first
time that her father had his handsful to do to
prevent her from being prosecuted; and as for
truth, whether she and it ma , ever meet, I
don't know; but, by my sow , they’re parflt
sthrangers up to the present time. This by
.way-ot a. friendly hint to on."

“ Well but you‘ll admit she's goodlooking l"

“Devil a doubt of that—she’s a handsome
vagabone, sure enough. However, the devil's
luck to her, for she scalds the heart in me every
day of my life.” » '

“ It's a wonder," observed Leeper, that the
fact of yaw knowing our correspondence and
intimacy, would not keep her quiet.”

“ Quiet} divil a thing in life could keep her
quiet, barin’ a gag an' astraight waistcoat. Sure
I did threaten to inform her father, an' the an-
swer she gave me was—‘ By Japers, i! you at-
tempted it, you villain, I'd blow your brains
out, an’ my hand to you, she’s the very rascal
would keep her word."

“ Well, never mind, Sam; leave her to me
and if I don’t contrive to subdue her, I’malittl,
mistaken, that’s all."

“ God enable you, then! for if anything was
ever a work of grace, it’ll be to sober that moun-
dre ." ' ‘

Leeper gave a subdued laugh, and having

 

 

folded his letter and hidden indignant Sam good
night, he departed.

 

CHAPTER VII.

TWO POLITICAL EXPECTAN’TB.—A NIGHT sum IN
DEBATABLE CASTLE.

DEBATABLE Cssrnn, as it was called by the
people, stood in a little elbow of land, the pro~
party of Ogle, our worthy candidate for the
niagistracy. It was, as we have said, a. small
house, consisting of only two rooms—a kitchen
and sleeping room. Behind it, however, ‘pro-
jccted another building, originally intende as
a cow-house, and which, previous to a recent
disposition by law of the adjoining farm, had
been used as such. The two buildings formed
the shape of a cross, the back one apparently

wing out of the front. The situation of this
ouse was both lonely and central, and conse-
quently right well adapted for the pu s to
which Body had from the beginning intended
it. Up until Malone and his family occupied it,
the back portion, or cow-house, was entered
by a se
Mat, whether by a hint from Body, or his own
contrivance, had opened a door from the dwell-
ing-house into it; so that if an alarm should by
any chance come upon those in the dwelling-
house, they could escape by the rear, and nice
verso, any one in the rear could escape by the
front. To this house, therefore, we now beg
the reader to accompany us. ,

The evening, just bordering on twilight, was
close and warm, and although the skies were
not heavy or prophetic of storm, if one could
judge by their appearance, they were, however,
incessantly illumined by those, flashes of slanted
lightning, which, whilst they are full of terror to
the ignorant and superstitious are known, novel'-

theless, to be certain prognostics of heat. and ,

a long continuance of dry weather. A dim
and melancholy spirit la upon all nature; and
the stillness had something in it, at onceso
wild and fearful, that the language in which'
the country people addressed eac other was
hushed and ow; or, to use the beautiful im-
agery of Samuel Fer uson, in his exquisite
ballad of the “ Fairy Thorn," which mightbe
well applied to the hour and the feelings oc-
casioned by it: v/
" But solemn is the silence of the silvery has.
That drinks away their voices in echelons “we, .
_ sacs.

And dronmib' the evening has stilled the hon]:
And dreamler the glosming glows.

“ And sinking. one by one, the Ink-noto- trons
When the Moon’s shadow uilath across

I”.
° ‘33”!

shsw,
Arc pushed the maidcn's voices. ucowcrlng down they
. is i . .
In‘thc flutter of their sudden schf

This wild and solemn evening bad I'm
deepened into twilight when Mat, who ' r
been standing in the little uncultivated on,
before the door, was hailed by his frie ‘and
by, who had approached in a direction that
wound rounds projection of the hill, thatcon-
cesled him until within a perch ortwo of the
‘.‘ Castle." .

“ Well." said the latter, “will we have a
strong meetiu' to-ni ht ?" t .

“ I think so,” rep 'ed Mat. “and markvthls.
Gabby, whatever propose to be done, don't
you appear to agree to it ; an’ don't ‘let us op.

to be on the best of terms wid one another.

dunno but it would be as well to he" some“

quarrel or so, one that the rest will force uni-«to,
make up, you know." \

“ Begad, a wink's enough—I have you. Did '

you hear, though. that Ogle's hate in the law

suit "Lnsrr has cast him; so that I suppose; ‘

your mo or an' you will have to thravol now."
“ Divil a foot, if we can help it. We'llmticc ‘
him. My mother bein' a widow will sonndwoll;
an’ it‘ hefuts us out, we’ll thry a trick of our own
for it. bout risin' the wages, though ; ,will
we be able to carry that, do you think ?" .
“I think so ; sure it's aisin done, in .spito .
of M’Mahon. Let Hendherson get a notice in
the name of all the workmen. after the strike
though, and he’ll think, of decree. that they‘ve
allhadahandin it." I j
“ Thrue enough ; but sure {or that mtthor‘,
everything is int very good train. I think. in

parate door, as is usually the case; but *

\

13 BODY run ROVER.

 

 

strength to that which it opposes. This fact
having come to M'Mahon‘s ears, be resolved to
attend the lodge on the night in question, in
order to throw the whole force of his influence
into the opposite scale, and to prevent, by every
means in his power, a step which he felt would
lead most probably to unhappy consequences.
The superintending agent, though a kind and
considerate man, was, he knew, both a rash
and a resolute one—not likely to yield any-
thing to senseless importunity or intimidation.
As it happens, however, in all communities

§ another month, we’ll have the place fit to be Grand Treasurer, as he called him. He knew,
"( proclaimed; and then as soon as I for one, besides, that the Ian er it remained with him,
:'- get what I expect‘ I’m sun for life." 'the larger it would ecome, because time in
.’ "I have something of t ie same kind in my l extending the system would increase the fund.
eye. if We can——" . . 0n the night in question, M’Mahon deter-

”If we am What ?—0‘Jt Wld It." mined to attend, in orderto put down, if possi-

”_Why1 “Foam? 91390 that he hafi in_ View- :ble, all notion of a strike, or demand for higher
He 13 etudym' t0 hung out Somethmg “1 the  wages amongst the miners, of whom this lodge
county LOUth. Wher? he says 119'“ Want me- :principally consisted, and toprevent the prac-
But tell me, Mat—did it ever come into your 1 tice of drinking whisky on an night of meet,
mmdy thin 1t ’Ud be *1 200d lOb t0 betmy the I log. It was late when he arrived. for the fact
ould rascal himself to the government? ” was, the discharge of his dutipH hui rendered

 

 .. .. v. ., nary-M...— 1.   .  ___:,_
=’1§%3':$.i§;73‘£fi~:<~ m__ '- ; ~15: L“ 743g. 3.4;. -- < 1‘ '

{Eja‘ss

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.3

22:12;

-‘ Litre

M-W-‘

organs-a,
y‘v— ,

<1 ,._*rf

,VWn

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.mau.

 

“Ay, but where would we be if the govern-
. ment themselves have a hand in it ?"

"Well, but sure if they had, they wouldn't,
put down these things so quickly, nor punish
the unfortunate peo lo the way they do."

"Why, that's thruth too ;' but anyhow.
Gubby, in man, it isn’t either you or my
honest sel that ‘ud have any business to put
ourselves in Sharpe‘s power; so if you’ll take
my advice, work for something undher Govern-
ment, that's our dart."

“I’ll do my endayvors, never fear—but now
I’ll slip down to the town awhile ; for I don‘t
wish tobe found here wid on by Ourselves.
But, before I go, can you tell me who or what
the Rover is ?"

“Why, as to who or what he is, or where
he came from, I know no more than the man
in the moon, up until he joined Sharpe, an’
then on know as much about him as I do."

“ ey’re very thick together any way; but
if he’s a match for Sharpe, he’s fit {or any
thing."

“'A match- for Sharpe ! no, but a match, an'
more than a match, for the divil himself is the
same blade. Blessed man 1 think of him goin'
to mus here, an‘ prayin’ night and mornin', as
I hear them sayin’. Why, they think he's a
saint.”

“ 0f ooorse it’s he that sets this Ribbon busi-
ness agoin' among them.”

“ Nobody else,to be sure; but who can prove
it against him? He takes no part in it, at all
events. Bead now, an’ bring me a pen'orth o’
tobsccy as you’re goin’?—I’m run to a more

' fl

-“ Have you the whiskey in?”
“ Ay. plenty; an' devil a better dhl’Op was

“ Edith, Mat, you can turn the penny at any
rate." ' .

“ Why not? it’s too late for on or I new,
Gabby, to have scruples. Go ’ ong wid you, I

so .”

he meeting on this occasion was not full un-
til about midnight; but whilst those who came
earlyflwere waiting for the loiterers, Mat, who,
in addition to his other virtues, had turned
“ Debatable Castle ” into a sheebeen house,

, where illicit spirits were sold cub titan/tic, lost
no Opportunity of reminding them, that a! they
were not yet engaged in an thing more imp
 they should at least 0 something to

1.9 “the (mid woman." at all events, meaning
thereby his mother, or “poor old Molly,” as
the was called- .

It may be necessary here to state that Thomas
M‘Mahon, on being raisedto the rank of Parish
Dole to, was exonerated from the duties of an

‘ Bearer—that is to say, he was not now
called in to hold mee ' of his ownLodge,
' which, y the way, be h Warned to our
friend the dancer, honest Ned Moynau 1:. Al-
though this,‘ however, was the case, lac os-
lesud the privilege of attending all meetings
held within his district; or, in other words,
within the parish itself, for the purpose of in-
specting (homer: and their proceedings; decid-
, complaints, adjusting differences, expelling
reg-notary or suspicious members, and enforcing
general regularity. The most important'of his
privileges, however, we have not mentioned
,yet; and this was the collection of money, or
to name it more properly, of a poll-tax from all
members, for the purpose of defending the
brethren in the Courts of Law, by feeing law-
yers and attorneys, and meeting all incidental
expenses whatsoever. ‘ This money Body, for
obvious reasons, suflered to accumulate in
H'Mahon’s hands, because it did not suit his

 

pnrposefor the present to transfer it to the,

it necessary for him to inspect three or four
Lodges before his appearance here; a circum-
stance which was wel understood by all, and
turned to especial account by Malone, who had
pressed them to drink before the arrival of
the “ Gineml,” as they good—humoredly styled
him. ‘

A consciousness of what is due to authority,
especially when exercised firmly and without
abuse, always produces respect and order in
any community. It was so in this case, for the
moment M’Mahon made his appearance, the
din and uproar, arising from the confusion of
loud and eager voices, immediately was di-
minished into a comparative silence, so that an
individual voice, pitched to a reasonable com-
pass, might be heard.

“ What is this, boys ? " said he ; “ is it Bedlam
I’m comin' into ? Keep silence here, an’ have
what you don’t seem to be overburdened wid,——
common sense. Ned Moynagh, this is a bad
state you have your Lodge in. When it was
mine it was quiet and ordherly; but now it re-
sembles a kennel of hungry hounds yowlin’ for‘
their mate, more than a meeting of men that’s
determined to serve their religion and their
counthry, if the can ;—an’ when the time
comes. Whisht, say— I'm ashamed of yiz l "

“ Begad, Tom," said Ned, “ I wish ye’d take
the same Lodge back ag’in; for my part, I'm
not fit to manage it at all; especially since Mat
here has the wife an‘ mother at the sheebeen
business.”

“ I'll spake about that by-an’—by," said Tom.
“ There can’t be any more din-inking at Lodges ;
that’s a regulation we must bring in; for the
truth is, wherever there’s dhrink, nothin’ goes
on right. But in the mane time, for business.
What have you done since you met? "

“Divil a thing," replied Moynagh, “ but
talked loud and dhrank whisky.”

“ Well, themvwhy don’t you call your rowl,
an’ do whatever is to be done; , an’ let us get
home out 0‘ this. It’s no hour for hard-workin'
men to be out 0' their bed, that must be slavin’
at six in the mornin’.” .

The roll was then called, one or two new
numbers made, after which they began to dis-
cuss the propriety of demanding higher wages
from Mr. Henderson, tor so the superintendmg
agent of the mines was named.

“ It's time for us to,_think of it,” observed
Malone; “these wealthy scoundrels, only give
us whatever they like, an’ I say it’ll boa shame
an' a scandal forus to lie undher sich tyranny
any longer; let us taich. them a llama, an’
they'll be obedient enough, I’ll engulfs." m

e japers, you’re a spunky a, "
said a fellow who was haltti ; ‘-‘ here’s megss‘
to the poor, an’-the divil's uck.an.’ ashort
coarse to the rich for keepin them sol”..and
he tossed ofl‘ the whisky as 8 spoke; “and

listen hether, Mat ;—what lesson will We taich
them,avic?" . , g. ,.
“Faith, said Mat, “let them know an’ feel

too that they can't do widout‘ us; an’ that's an
aisy lesson to taich them, boys." ,.

“More power, Mat; the sorta one of you
but knOWS a thing or two; sure it's our busi-
ness besides to take all we can of the Bod-
daghs.” . , .

“ Ay is it," observed another; an’ we‘ll so‘cn
have our own day, as Mat says", ‘ ,,

The fact was, that Malone and Gubby had,
by apparently opposite arguments, succeeded
in gaining overa considerable majority of the
miners-Abe one by whisky and direct argu-
ment, and the other by that feeble species of
opposition which, whilst it seems to dissent

.Oh, no harm in 'e we

 

from a thing, contrives to give additional

that are not regulated by enlightened princi-
ples, but, on the contrary, are based upon
blindness and ignorance, that it is uniformly
found dificult, if not impossible, to produce
reasonable and uniform action, and to banish
those low and violent passions which seek only
the first op ortunity to accomplish their self—
ish or cruel) purposes; so, also, did M'Mahon
find here that the seeds of disorder, tumult,
envy, andcrime, were likely to lead to un-
propitious and disastrous events. His eleva-
tion to the distinction of Parish Delegate, hum-
ble though it was, he now found to be attended
by the usual quantum of envy and jealousy, and
their inse arable spirit of personal opposition.
The whis y, too, which the members had
taken, some in considerable abundance, failed
not to strengthen the argument on the side of
headlong impulse and passion; so thatwhen the
object of their meeting—the strike for higher
wages—came under serious discussion, he saw
clearly that it would be carried by a consider.
able majority, in spite of himself and the mod-
erattiparty. V.
“ at, my good friend," said be, addressing
Malone, “ you are but a new comer among us,
an’ don’t undherstand this business as wall as
I, and many here do. You didn’t see Bally-
bracken some years ago, when it was in all its
glory of filth, poverty, rags and hunger; when
there wasn't a dacent'house in it from end to
end; an’ when the street was nothing but a- row
of dirty dunghills on‘ aichf side, wid a smell
that would knock down a horse. No; you
didn't see this, Mat, my lad. An’ what was it
chan ed it to the nate, respectable, andoom-
forts le town that it is now? Why, these
mines an' the regular employment they war
the manes of givin’ to the people; that, an’
the good example that was set us bytha new

comers, in cleanliness, and re 'ty and in-
dusthrya Let‘us have sense, an, boys; we
thruv well upon the wages we‘re ' '. Let
us have sense, then, I say, an’ care that

we don’t do ourselves more harm thangood b
sich proceedin’s as you’re. spaking. about. 
me ax yez this—so pose now they don’t rise,
your wages, what W1 yez. do i " - r

“ Why," said Mat, “ don’t you know may
must, when We réfus'e to work for them 1’"

“ I know no sich using, Mat; nor youaither.
If we don't, they'll} ‘ enough that will, an'
be  to get it too,” ' I

‘ Well,'7 returned Malone, very deliberately,
and withakindo! sneer, “I‘ll be lad to see
the man that 'udldar to work‘ for tion atthor
we quit them—that's all. I’d be lad to know
him,  tglliam Goo hands wid
him. 0 y ' t unthryman,"
he shouted, leaping up and striking I“! shut
fist into his open palm with violence, “ the first
man that 'ud attempt to do sich‘ a thing—weldw

we'd "— ..» ,
" “You'd what?" asked Tom; “what would

you do. " , I .
“Nothlng at all," replied'he, getting sud-
denly uite calm and mild,—-‘f I'd—:we'd only
say, " hank you, sir; we owe on one for
that, an’ when ou’re m we pay you.

‘ him—net's ’bit,

barrin'pay for his supper some ni t."

“Mat,,my worthy fellow, said, cm, “I fear
you're a bad ill an’ have the ,baddhrop in
your veins. 'leat’s not the kind 0' talk we
wanthere, I tell yen."  ‘ " i,’ ,

:‘Troth it is not,” observed Gubb ; _“§n’
myselfjor one’s aginstthe sthrik$v , v are ‘
people farwome 0 than wear-e. . share, any
way'widin two shillings a week. 
that's pod at Kilci-anagh; an'v‘nlthough We

/ a‘

RODY THE ROVER.

 

 

work harder, to be sure, than they do, yet for
all that, I’m not the man to say that we ought
to be onsatisfied. So, Mat, I oppose you, be—
 H

“ As you do everything that’s good," replied
Mat; “ you‘re almost as holy as Rody the
Rover, that’s reported to say his prayers night
an’ mornin’, an’ I’d take it to my death it’s only
shaming he is, an’ that notliin’ barrin’ rank
cowardice hindhers him from joinin’ us.”.

“Mat,” said M’Mahon, considerably heated
by this attack upon his absent friend, “don’t
let me hear you say another offensive syllable
against Body the Rover. An‘ it's a proof that
you have but little respect for your religion, or
you’d not have the face to spake ill of any one
for obsarvin' what it commands."

“He,” said Gubby, “with a contemptuous
look at Malone ; “ mintion Malone an' religion
in the some day, indeed! That’s not a bad joke,

ha I 1'

“Gabby,” said Mat, “only for the oath I've
tuck, I'd have the pleasure of makin’ you laugh
on the wrong side of the mouth, my hurler.”

“Here’s the same," replied the other;
“ only for it, I‘d make you whistle broadmouth
Wid o’er a chap in the parish of Ballybracken."

“I think,” said Ned Moynagh, “that con-
sidherin' I’m the Head of my own Lodge, it‘s
alittle too hard that I can’t get a word in, good
or bad." . ,

“Oh, you’re not a Parish Delegate," said a
voice, “an’ can’t have all the spakin’ to your-
self. See what it is to have autority l—ha, ha,
ha!"

“ Authority, indeed l Musha, Iwish we knew
how he came by it," said other voices.

“Hould your tongues, will yez," shouted
Moynagh, “an' let us decide one thing first.
Are we for the sthrike or not? The best way
is to put itto the vote.”

The confusion here was excessive, Every
one began to speak aloud, and to give his opin-
ion at the top of his lungs. Moynagh at len th
rose, and with a. large ouken cudgel struck he
inside door—which had been unhinged and
converted into a temporary table, 011 which
they drank the poteen—so loudly, that the
noise of the bang he gave it startled them into
silence, with the exception of a few, whom it
threw into laughing.

“ Be aisy, ye outrageous pack,” he said, in a
loud voice, “ and listen to me. Let every man
now’who wishes to sthn'lce, stand to my left
hand, and every one who does not, 0 to my
right ; then we'll aisly know who or most
votes carries it.” This was allowed to be fair ;
and in a few minutes M’Mahon, to his deep
mortification and disappointment, saw that
Malone's proposition was carried by nearly
three to one. ,

“ Well," said he, "it can’tbe helped ; an’ All
I can say'is, that you‘ll live to repent your ro-
ceedins‘ this night, and the den erous s eps
you’re about to take. As for you, alone—:

“Well,”' said Mat, looking keenly at him,
“ what about me ? You talked awhile one.
about me an' thraichery to ether ; but I on’t
think ever I used words as an erous as you’ve
let out jist now. Be me sowl, i there's thraich-
cry to come, I think, bo s, we ma know where
to look for it. Now,  ‘M'M on, say out
your say ? ~

“Well, then," replied Tom, “ the first thing
I say is, that you are no longeraBibbonmau. ‘

As he spoke. he rose, and taking the roll out
of Maynagh’s hand, he openly erasedhis name
from it :'——

“No,” he added, “from this ni ht out you
don’t belong to m; an', my friends, you will
all take notice of this. An account of it will be
sent to the other Lodges. And another thing
you are to observe, that neither he nor any one
else is to sell or bring whisky, ‘or drink of any
description, to a Lodge. I don’t know how it hap-
pens, but the truth is, that the use of spirits
and drink of all kinds, is ten times greater than
it ever was in this neighborhood, and that’s not
a good sign." '

“ An’ so I’m ut out," replied Malone, with
a. saucy and vin 'ctive toss of his head, that to
a person who could understand it, was full of

 

impudent self-confidence, and the conscious-
ness that his enemy was in his power: “well
if I am, I have nothing to say against it. I‘m
not the man to disobey ordhers, nor ever was;
and they all know that anything I evor did or
said, I did it, an' said it for the best; and for
this I’m to be sent adrift."

This was humble language enough, had it
been humbly and deferentially expressed. So
far from that being the case, hOWever, there
was no mistaking the spirit of insolence in
which the words were uttered.

“ Mat,” said Gubby, ” only for the oath,
I’d make you" r ——

He was here interrupted, however, by Ma-
lonc's friends, who were really very numerous,
and who looked upon his conduct as being full
of spunk, and such as they felt to be extremely
creditable to him, considering every thing that
had happened.

“Hould your tongue, Gubby,", said they;
“mind your own afl'airs. You appear. too, to
have some spite aginst honest Mat here. Tom
M’Mahon," they proceeded. lowering their tone
considerably, “ you had betther forget your
words aginst Mat here. He's an honest fellow,
an’ if he has a failin’, it‘s on the right side, any
way. Do put him back agin; bekaise if on
don't, Well as we like him, we must give 'm
the go by/i He’s but a sthranger to us; but
you are a 'Mahon. well known for ages in the
counthry. an' it isn't a man that we know only
since yesterday,’ that, in a thing like this, we’d
lolly before We‘d folly you.”

" Well," replied Tom, relenting, “You‘ve
touched me on the very spot that I feel for him
in ~he is a sthranger; an’ if it was only for the
sake of his wife, and mother, an' childre, I
wouldn't wish to thrste him harshly, or have
him lowered by keepin‘ him from among us ;
but before I do put his name back, he must
promise not to act agin. or to s she, as he did
this night; Obaidienceto ord ers an' to the
written rules here, is everyti'hng ; andIthe man
that sets them or us at defiance, is an enemy
to our Church and our counthry, and is not fit
tobe among honest men."

” An‘ deserves to be thrated like a villain,"
replied Malone, seizing M'Mahon‘s hand with
every appearance of warmth and regret; I am
a sthrangerflhe added, “an‘ if I couldn‘t get
for 'veness and fair play here, where could I go
to 00k for them? beg your pardon, Toni
M’Mahon; a hundred times, I beg your par-
don ; and I’ll engage and promise to now and
observe my duty to my sgpairiers betther,”

“That’s enough, then, at; you're restored
to your place as you wor: an’ nowI hope there
will be no more differences amen us.‘ .

“ Divil a diflerence ought to be, said Gubby;
“an' sure we know very well that it’s your
duty to report the black sheep to headquar-
thers,; and they must abide the consequence.
Youreadusthat urse." ~ ~ ,

"It is." re lied 'Mahon, “and waill read
that art of it for you agin. Here it isé—‘The

.Paris Delegate is bound to make a Quarter]

Return of the names of all persons who wi 1
not conduct themselves in strict obedience to
the Regulations of the Society, to the County
Delegates, who arcto report t em to theTro-
vincial Delegateswho are to report them to
Headquarters. Whatever the sentence against
them may be, it must be executed before it is
known. .All the Delegates, however, havetho
power of expelling before they report; but
sometimes it will be their duty to report first,
in order that examples may be made, to teach
the members of the Society obedience.’ You
see, Mat, I did not take the worst step first
against you. '

"No," said Mat; “I’m obligedto you. You
did not indeed.” ,

“Now, then," said M’Mahon, “as the busi-
ness for the night is over, we had all best go
home as quietly as possible' an'labove all, in
this business about the e, be peaceable,
and avoid all violence. You have had your
way, in spite 0’ me; but my face and heart is
againstit.”

They then as stated for the (right; and we
are not at all eparting from a severity or

 

truth in saying, that almost every man there
carried home with him the elements of unhap-
piness, discontent, distrust, and that vague but
cursed spirit which, while it can scarcely be de-
scribed, is certain to gather strength from fre-
quent associations of ignorant men, and to
gradually school the heart into that hardened
state in which all sense of religious impression
and moral feeling is lost in the impulse of the
worst and most diabolical passions.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
THE BEPBEBENTATIVE srsrniu AND minnwrms.

I

01" DIPIJOMAUY EXEMPLIFIED IN THE NEGOTIA’ A

TIONB OF MALONE AND GUBDY.

WE are not of those who would arbitrarily
abridge the laboring classes of their just rights
and privileges, or wish to see them do ed to
the character of serfs or slaves, and oroed to
abide, without appeal or redress, the dictatorial
or oppressive will of the employer. No such
thing. On the contrary, we are, and have been,
strenuous advocates for the rights of labor, which
are every whit as important, in truth and fact,
though not as well hedged round and scoured by
law, as those “of property. That the amount of
wages should not be determined, exclusively,
either by the employer or employed, but by a
fair and mutual understanding between both,
is our opinion. Had, for instance the miners
of Ballybrucken had any just and reasonable
grounds for complaint; had the wages given
for their labor been inadequate to its value, or
not fairly remunerative, they might, notwith-
standing, have fallen upon other methods for
remedying such a state of things, without re—
sorting to the foolish alternative of refusing
to work, and thus punishing themselves in the
very first instance. As it was, however, the
course they pursued did not result from an ac-
tual grievance at all, but from the deep and
treacherous plat of which they were thoi o-
ranttools; and which, it is not impro a.
great number of them will ultimate be suffer-
ers. Be'this as it may, the agent, enderson,
to whom no notice had been given of their in—
tention to strike, was certainly unpre for
such a step, inasmuch as the man di not feel
conscious that there were any complaint! in
existence against him. He thought there was
something unjust and ungenerous in their con-
duct. and that it was but fair that they should
have stated their complaints or grievancesin an
open and manly manner, in the first instance,

and thus to have tried whether such an under- '

standing might not have been brought about
between them, as would have rendered the cl-,

tor-native to which they resorted altogether arm

n . He consequently felt hurt d irri‘
mmmg entrapped, as it were, intfiposi-
tion that was very embarrassing to himselfflnd
prejWial to the interests of the proprietors.
which emboundto guardandprotaot.‘  ’
Malone and Gubby, who, as our j 
know, were anxious, for their own ‘ ' to
bring about the strike, were now, as having-
taken the most active part in it, selected by
the rest of the workmen to extort the desired
terms from Henderson. Accordingly, when he
sent for thosewho had advised them to such a‘
course, that they might talk the matter-over
quietly, he was waited on by these two gentle-
men, who had been formally digital to re’.
sent tohim the grievances of e body,
hour appointed for seeing them was eleven
o'clock in the morning; and as usual, they
found him e god among papers and accounts

in his ofice, one. , -
"Well," saidhe, when the had enteredm
“this is every unexpected, an indeed we

foolish step which you have taken. a What

earthly motive could you have had in'toklug '

it?" ,

“Why, sir,” replied Malone, “of coma
rise 0' wages; they complain that the wages is
too small." ‘ , .

“ Bedad, they do,” sir,” added Gubby, “an’
you may take my word for it, that you’ll n?‘
finditanyaisyjobtosafistythemf' ‘ .

“They have suffered themselves to be mil-

Y ,

 

 

 

 

BODY THE ROVER.

 

 

led and deceived, " replied Henderson ; “the
wages they receive are fair and reasonable, not to
say ample. In fact, there are no higher given
in any other similar establishment in the
Kingdom;—not even in those from which the
returns are more profitable than they are here,
where we are but in our infancy."

v “ All that, " said Malone, “may be thrue, sir,
an’ I don‘t doubt but it is ; howandiver, we
are bound to state their wishes, whether they’re
right or wrong. They won’t come back to
their work, sir, widout a rise of fourpence a-
duy for the common men, and so on in pro-
portion.”

“ That I shall never grant; the condition of
the works, and the returns from them, would
not afford i .”

“ Then, what will you do, sir? ” said Gubby.
“ Is the mines to lie idle?"

“ Certainly not. If those foolish men are so
blind to their own interests as to persist in
their present purpose, that is no reason why
I am to neglect those that are intrusted to me.

' Tell them I shall give them to-day and to-mor-

row to make up their minds as to whethcrthey
will resume their employment or not. If they
refuse I shall employ other hands;——that is all;
we shall then see who shall tire first. That is
my answer."

“Very well, sir,".replied Gubby—very well;
but "—here he looked at his companion—then
at Henderson—and then round the office.

“But what?” asked Henderson; “you need
add nothing more—my mind's made up.”

“I know,r—I know that, sir, " he proceeded;
"Mat," said he, in a low, cautious voice, “it
woulln't be honest of us to keep it back from
him." ‘

“Honest,” replied the other; “ musha, Gor
above knows it wouldn’t."

“ Can we depind on you, sir?” asked Gubby;
“ for, to tell you the plain truth, we’re- as good
as placin’ our lives in your keepin’."

“ Howie that? " inquired Henderson, excited
into interest by the mystery of his words;
“what is the meaning of this language?”

" But you‘ll promise, . sir, on your bright
word and honor, never to spake of what We're
goin‘ to tell you in any way that might brin
us into danger, bekaise, if you did, it‘s our
coffins we might prepare."

“I will promise nothing,” replied Hender-
son, “upon any subject of which I am igno-
rant; you cannot expect that I should; but this
I may say, that I shall not act dishonorany by
you or anyone.”

“ Well, sir. that’s enough; the truth, then,
iamtgat there’s bad business in the neighbor-

" I am aware that the neigthrhood has cer-
tainl been changed very much for the worse,
and regret it; but I Wish you would speak
more plainly."

“ Tell the gintleman at wanst," said one,
“an' don’t be hummin‘ and hawin’ a at it;
it's our dut to tell him.”

“Faith, t en, in plain truth, Misther Hen-
derson, the whole counthry is alive wid a thing
they call Bibbonism."

"Bibbonism !. I have heard that the exist.
ence ofgme new folly of that kind has been
discove , or at least suspected, in. another

fps of the Kingdom; but I did not imagine it

reached us, or penetrated into the mines

'of Bellybracken;—_—but are you certain of
this?"

"Sure of it, sir; didn’t they want myselfand
Mat here to join them ?"

"Which you declined, I hope?"

“We did. sir; but we wor obliged to prom.
ise that some day we would join it, in ordher
to kee ourselves safe; an’ on this account, sir,
Well our intention to stOp very long in the
nei hborhood."

' “ ell, but have you any notion how this
Ribbonism got into the neighborhood? "

“ The head of it in all this counthry, an’
that it all e from, is Tom M‘Mahon."

“Tom ‘Mahon ! ” replied Henderson, in
atonement; “I cannot believe that; he is un-_

questionany the best-conducted and most re-

spectable young fellow in the parish of Bally-
bracken, considering his station in life."
I, "In the manetinie, sir, it’s thruth what

Gubby's tellin’ you,—an’ you’ll live to know it
yet; an‘, what is more, uiet as he is, an’
smooth, it's he that‘s privately at the bot-
tom of the Turnout; smooth water runs deep,
sir. "

“This surprises me," said the Agent; “how-
ever, if it be true,” he added, “ I am inclined
to think he has been corrupted by an idle vaga-
; bond who has been for some time located in
fihis father’s house;—the fellow, I mean, called
Rody the Rover. "

“Oh, bedad, with great respect, sir, you're
asthra there; the Ribbonmen were fond
enough of Body (hi they found he wouldn’t
join them, an ufthi-r that he was in sich dan-
ger that he was forced to lave the counthry for
fear of his life.”

“ Was that what caused him to leave it ?”

“It was, sir, and he on the point of being
married to Miss Alley M‘Mahon.”

“It is very strange,” observed Henderson,
after a minute's reflection; “but, really, from
the change that has recently taken place, what
you tell me is not improbable. Have you any-
thin else to add?”

“ othing, sir, onl to never mintion our
names, if you plaise, bekaise you now see the
danger of it to us."

“I do, fully."

“An’ besides, sir,” added Malone, .1110 was
anxious to turn every contingency to his own
future advantage, “now that you know the
den er of refusing these men, wouldn't it be
bett er an‘ safer to rise their wages a thrifle
than to set them against you? Remember, we
advise you to it.”

“That is a principle I shall never recognize.
When intimidation is resorted to as a weapon
of ofiense and terror it may frighten the weak,
and even shed blood for awhile; but those who
use it will find in the long run that it is fraught
with more danger, punishment, and destruc-
tion to themselves than it is to others. Intimi-
dation and secret associations send a renter
number of the people to the convict ship and
the gibbet than all other causes put together.
As for my part, I am not to be terrified out of
in duty. I ive these misguided men—since

3 I nd that t ey have been so misguided—a

week from this day to return to their work; if
they do not I shall employ others. Now, good-
by, keep yourselves free from those secret
meetings, and do not fear that any confidence
you have placed in me shall be abused."

The two worthies then departed, and Hen-
derson immediately communicated the intelli-
gence he had just received, excepting the names
of his informants, to our friend Ogle, who
was, as we have already said, a principal share-
holder in the mines, as well as the owner of
the property in which they lay.

The usual conse uences of a “ turnout ’ are
never productive 0 good, almost in any sense.
As the law. however, of the employer and em-
ployed stands at present, or, in other .words,
until their mutual interests and duties are
clearly defined, and placed upon such an equit.
able basis as will render strikes and turn-outs
unnecessary, as an act of self-defence upon the
part of one y, it is impossible that such
ate in ordinary cases can be avoided. The
Bal ybracken strike, setting apart its motive,
which was. not understood by the body at
large, presented the usual marks and tokens by
which such proceedings are attended. The
men, having nothin to do, felt all the usual
evils of idleness. .T ey met. together and in
order, to talk over the subject uppermost in
their minds, they had recourse to the public
or sheebeen-house, where they drank, became
intoxicated, and ended by fighting and V10-
lanes.

The s irit of idleness and mischief are always
identities, and so it was proved. here. Mat
Malone, nothing deterred by Tom M‘Mahon’s
lecture, any more than the others were to whom
it had been given, kept them ip constant sup—
.ply with illicit spirits, and With such ferti e
and infiammatory’topics aswere best calculated
to stir up their passions to the perpetuation of

head of the family, had alreadybcen noticed to

 

quit Debateable Castle, and surrender posses-

outrage and-crime. His mother, Molly, as the-

 

 

‘, sion to the legal proprietor, both of which the

poor woman was quite ready to do.

That, however, would not have suited the
purposes of those who had established Ribbon-
ism in the country, and wished to reap their
harvest of iniquity from it. By the advice of
her son, who acted under the guidance of our
friend Rody, she refused to quit, or give up
possession, and boldly set Speer and all his
authority at defiance. Speer, who bitterly re-
gretted his Yictory, having lost by law expenses
ten times what the tenement was worth, felt
doubly annoyed at this unexpected obstruction
in entering upon his property, and lost ,not a
day in getting the Sheriff to bring an Ejectment.
Now, whether by coincidence or contrivance,
We cannot exactly say; but it did so happen,
that the strike took place on the very week on
which the Ejectment was brought, whilst the
feelings of the miners were inflamed by liquor,
by fancied injury respecting fraudulent wages.
and by that irritable consciousness of evil and
loss, resulting to themselves and their families
from idleness, which often drives men to very
desperate excesses. Accordingly, when the
morning of the day came on which the Widow
Malone was tohave been ejected, tho Sherifi",
accompanied by a body of constabulary, made
his appearance on the way leading to Bally"
bracken, which on this occasion, rather resem-
bled n. market day, so large was the crowd col-
lected. Henderson the Agent, feeling a good
deal surprised at such an unusual concourse of
people, sauntcred out among them, and asked
what Was the cause of their assembling together.

“ To see poor ould Molly Malone, Sir, turned
out of the bit of cabin she had over her head.
God help her?”

“ Well, but she had no right to the cabin.”
he replied; “she got no regular possession of it,
and paid no rent.”

“ Why, sure she hadn't time to pay rent, the
poor ould crathur; but she’s willin’ to hculd it
at a fair value, and yet the rascal won’t let the
feeble ould widow stay, but is sendin' the Sherifi
to thrust her sn’ her poor grandchildre ut upo n
the wide world. "

“ But the landlord, on the other hand, is only
confirming his right to the property, which has
been so severely contested with him,” replied
Henderson; “ and surely nobody can blame him
for tha ." ‘

“ Ah," replied one of them, “it’s aisy to find
a word for the rich. but it doesn’t come 
Willin' ’ly for the poor."

Deep, indeed, and earnest, was the sympathy
felt by these misguided people for the widow,
even in a case where justice could not at all be
said to support her. Sympathy in the Irish
heart is very often the cause of many an out-
rage that is most un'ustly ascribed to a worse
feeling ; and it may be truly said that, in cases
even where the guilt it apparently deep, the
very crime has its origin in the pro-existing
virtue. ‘ -

Among the crowd on this occasion, there was
one man, who, as Henderson could observe, was
exceedingly active among them, passing from
group to group, and from knot to knot, and
whisperin a few words cautiously, and earn-
estly, as! 6 went along. This was Thomas
M‘Mahon, who, from the excited state in
which, from various causes, he knew them to
be at the moment, strove to exert all hisinfiu-
ence over them, in order to . prevent any
interference on their part with the execution of
the law, and thus probably avoid the ultimate
shedding of blood, and loss of life. . In this he
was countenanced by several. who, like himself,
began to feel that there was to be found in the
neighborhood now a principle of insecurity,
discord, violence, and'distrust, which the oldest
inhabitanthad never remembered. Both Ma.

lone and Gii'bb'y were also engaged in reasoning
with the “people, but. unlike M'Mahon, they‘

took care that whenever they approached Hen-
derson, their remonstrances should be heard by
him. _ .

“ Now, boys,” they proceeded, “ for heaven’

sake havesense.’ Be quiet this day, an’ don't,

brake the law, no matter who may egg you-onto do
it. Take our advice, boys, and be paioeable;

 

l

 

RODY THE ROVER.

21

 

 

an’ if anybody advises you otherwise, he's not your
friend.”

Henderson having at length strolled up to-
wards his own door, was met accidentally there
by Gubby, who said in a low voice :

“ God grant, sir, that there‘s not to be blood
shed here this day 1 Do you see Tom M’Mahon?
All that man can do he’s doing”———-

“ For what purpose ‘r” asked Henderson.

“ Oh, it doesn’t signify as to that, sir; but you
may aisily guess it. God forgive him, an' that's
the worst I wish him?”

“ Do you think, Gubby, that there's likely to
be any serious opposition to the sheriff ?"

“Why, it's hard to say, sir ; but I hope not.
If M‘Mahon wouldn’t egg them on ;-but still,
sir, Mat an’ I will do all we can forpeace, plaise
God. Do you keep in, sir, any how - for if a
skrimmage does take place, they Wouldn't
sample givin’ you a dog‘s knock, if you come in
their way; devil abit, sir—an‘ it's a friend that's
tellin' you.”

“ But, Gubby, my good fellow, if you and
Malone are so veryanxious for peace, why does
he not surrender lpossession of this cabin, and
put an end to it 1’

“ He has gone on his knees to her," replied
Gubby, “ an’ so for that matther has myself,—
but no use; she‘s so obstinate, sir, that all the
art 0‘ man, an‘ what's more, 0’ woman either,
couldn’t change her mind. No, sir, divil pur-
shue the foot she’ll budge till the sherilf pulls
down the house about her ears;——at laist she
says so." .

The Shcrifi at length and his posse made their
appearance, and without making any delay pro-
ceeded through the town, and up towards De-
bateable Castle, which they soon reached, ac-
companied by the crowd, who, however, With
the exception of some women and boys, that
booted, manifested no disp0sition to molest
them. Molly, however, although actually
trembling with fear and apprehension of out-
ta e—a circumstance which gave an admirable
colzoring to the design of the two spies—yet had
been forced to make all the resistance in her

ower. It was of little avail, however, for in a

ew minutes the constabulary, aided by a set of
bailiffs, proceeded to demolish it to the very
foundation.

This, indeed, was the moment of danger, for
as it was necessary previous to the dilapidation
to remove the ersons who were in it, as well
as the few artic es of furniture, the process of
doing so created almost a tumult.
woman was first taken out, and her feeble and
trembling limbs, gray hair, and miserable, ap-
pearance, added to er great age, produced a
strong, and, if the truth were known, a terrible
impression upon the spectators. . Next came
Mat’s wife, their little children in tears, and
then their beds and bedding, such as they were,
all of which were laid about  different places
under the open air. It‘was in truth a painful
scene, and one that severely tested the forbear-
ance of the surroundin crowd. When the last
stone, however, 'of the finance was levelled, the
countenances of the people darkened, a sunni-
taneous feeling ran through them, and by de-
grees the multitudinmzs circle began to contract
about the Sherifi and his assistants. Another
minute and the onslaught would have com-
menced. when. the voice of Thomas M’Mahon
was heard aloud : '

“Boys, remember your promise ;—-remem-
bet it now—this moment—and think of what you

‘ owe to them that’s workin’ for your good l"

“Full back for God's sake, boys,” shouted
Gabby: “let not aflnger he riz here this day

:gunst the. Sherifl’ or his ofllcers, or any one
ongwid him." ‘

The crowd, on muse, after a moment’s hesita-
tion, began to fall back and disperse into grou s
as before. In a few minutes afterwards, the
Sharia, keeping his eye. upon M’thon, ap-
proached him, and in a very. formal manner,

“I _bhlieve it was you who addressed the
crowdfirst,afew minutes ago?” »
“It was. sir, ” replied the other.

'| “Iggymylnkyournuneflheadded. V

The poor‘

I

 

I

'very little actually about it.

“My name is M'Mahon," he
“Thomas M’Mahon."

“Well, Mr. M’Mahon," re lied the sheriff,
“ all I can say is, that I than you very much,
and feel obliged for your good intentiona’ '

“You need not, sir,” returned M‘Mahon;
‘ I’d do the same thing undher the same cir-
cumstances."

“I do not doubt you in the least," said the
official, with ironical complaisance; “I am
quite certain you would—I need no assurance
of that. Good morning, sir; Ifeel the kind-
ness of your excellent intentions, I assure
you." ,

He and his men then proceeded on their
way, amid the crowd, who, although they suf-
fered them to pass without injury, shouted
after them, as they left Ballybracken :

“Hal there you go, and the curse of the
houseless widow go along wid yez! You'll
hear of Molly Malone to your cost. you vaga-
bonds! She‘s not done wid yez et—— ou'll
get tit for tat for this day‘s work! hree
cheers, boys, for M011 Malone! And now let
us go this minute an’ uild her a house."

“Yes,” shouted Gubby, “an’ by this and by
that, from this day out we'll christin’ ourselves
Molly Malone’s men. Hurrah! three cheers
for her! Molly Malone for ever i"

They then proceeded to a small patch of
common at the end of the town, and, ere the
close of the day, had a sod house built for her
and her famil , nearl as commodious as that
out of which they been ejected.

replied,

 

CHAPTER IX.

A SAGACIO‘US PLAN TO am THE “AIDE 0F
BALLYBRACKEN ~ANO’1'HEB T0 WORM THE
MORALB 02‘ m ROVER.

Evn. knowledge flies fast. Scarcely a fort-
night had ela sad, and yet so keenly was the
spy Guhby's ' t relished, when he said they
s ould christen themselves Moll Malones
boys, that it spread like wildfire u h the
country. The double game played by one
and Gubby between the miners and Hender-
son, was a masterpiece of accomplished tact
and admit duplicity. Day after day the illegal
spirit impressed itself still more strongly on
the misguided people, and nothin now would
be listened to but measures of mi night legis-
lation and self-redress. Notices to give up
farms, to dismiss servants or laborers obnoxious
to certain Ribbonmen, to lower rents, or to
take back ejected,—and very often 'ustly
ejected—tenants, were sent abroad night after
night ; to all of which was subscribed, the now
notorious name of “Molly Malone.”

Tom M’Mahon saw and felt all this with deep
anxiety and sorrow, and, for the first time,
began to ask himself whether it could be possi-
ble that he had been made a dupe of by some
scoundrel, who, professingto be a friend to
Ireland and the Faith of the poo 16, was yet an
enemy in disguise to both. a dwelt upon
the matter long and seriously. but without
comin to any satisfactory resu tregarding the
groan of his suspicions. There was candor
and truthfulness of character, such frank and
manly openness. of conduct about Body, that
too generous and confiding young heart, like
M‘hhthon's, suspicion of such a man was, he
thought, both mean and base. Nay, he felt
that he had been a concealed enemy, his 'pure-
minded sister would have been warned by her
very virtues ainst his treiwhery, in-
stead of lovin im as she did. However,
he (Body) ha promised, on his return,
to draw aside the veil which concealed much
that was connected with the Ribbon system,
and which he felt anxious to know; for at
present be literally knew nothing, or at least
As it was, he felt
exceedingly unhappy, and instead of the fine
buoyant spirit of gayet and lit-heartaan
that had characterize him, a now looked
rather like a man whose heart was loaded with
inward guilt. Nor was he without some simi-
lar kindred impression. If for a moment his
suspicions 00 d be true—but instantly hi-
generousspiritout than to unwind“ Itill

l

 

he could not but feel, under even the most
favorable aspect of affairs, that no matter how
desirable the events that might follow, he had
been the instrument of introducing into the
country principles which for the present were
ruining the peace, industr and happiness of
the people. He had hear , too, that he him-
self was strong? suspected already by several
of the surroun ing gentry. The sheriff had
used very stron language against him, to
some of the neighboring magistrates; and
oven Henderson, now satisfied of his guilt,
had expressed his determination not under
any circumstances again to give him employ-
ment.

The state of Ballybraoken, indeed, was now
becoming perfectly dreadful. Henderson.

who was both firm and intrepid, had already

engaged other workmen, despite of several
threatenin notices sent him under the signa-
ture of “ olly Malone ;" but such was the
fury of the “ old hands,” as they called them-
selves, that scarcely a day passed without vio-
lotions of the peace, beatings and waylayings,
between them and their successors. Even ’
Brian M’Mahon's family, quiet and afi‘ectionate
as it- had ever been, was now darkened by the
gloom which overshadowed the country. Tom
was fretful and unhappy, in consequence of
causes with which the reader is acquainted,—
in addition to the fact that both he and
his father were out of employment,
and had not their weekly wages, = hon-
estly earned, to draw for their necessary
support and comfort. Poor Alice, whoseun-
suspecting andinnocent heart had been so
treacherously won, was evidentl low-s irited
and drooping, in oonse uenoe o the a sauce
of her loveranld ttoh d to her anxiety. she
was persecu e importimate  -
of awild young allow in the neighbor 00d.
named Parra Rackhan, or Paddy the Bioter, so
called from his roverbial tendency to uarrel.
Rackhan, who ad fallen desperatelyan love
with her on hearin that she was about to be
married to Rod ti
and threatened the Rover with extermination,
should he ever show his nose in the coun
again. It was to no purpose that both she and
her family rejected him on the verylreamnable'
lea, that she was already engaged to Body;
onest Rackhan swore “that s a and they
were fools, and if she did not know what was
for her advan e, he did ;" for such were the
words, uttered in something like a mysterious
trium h, with which he usually wound up all
his so icitations. I ‘

In this position of affairs stood Ballybraoken
when Henderson, harassed and indignant at the
utter madness of the " old hands, ' consulted
the magistracy of the neighborhood, .who,cog-
nizantas the themselves felt of the dangenn
which he an the newly-engaged laborers were ‘
placed, all agreed in the necessity of memorial-
izing Government for the, appointment fof a”
body of constabulary, to protectboth thework—
men and the property of the company'from
violence. This step, for which neitherBo y
nor his two underlain-uppers were absolut‘ey
unprepared,.occasioned t em, however. to ' '
cipitate their movements. The third night
after the da on which the, magistrates met,
was calm, c one and dusky—in fact, just such

a one as was adapted for holding an illegal,’

meeting. It was now about the hour of eleven
o'clock, and our two worthies. Malone and
Guhby, were seated at the fire in the new house
that had been built for old Molly. Up to that,
moment; none of those who were expected had'
arrived, and, in the meantime, the following
dialogue occurred between them : . v '

“I wondher he didn‘t come to-dey, at all
events." said Malone ;
although you and I are clever cnou ,vm'n :
got exactly the thing without an odd but from

m." ‘ , ‘

" I know that—tho devil'l clear held. hob”;
an' isn't it wondherful to think how ho‘oan
change his voice and disguise him“!!! I'd kilo
thebooh. the mother that bus-ohm wouldn‘t.
howhmfihcdidn’twlnhit.” ' > ‘

"Oh. the corn know

8 Rover became furious. ,

“ bekaiu, Gubbyq '

I

x

\

'17.?{.‘:,_'Er;::1:—‘“ 'fl '

‘ fww-‘r 'w *4;  —~n_— * T

 

 

 

-4. no, in; 1:; 

.__..=

’ ' ohld enemies of ours,'the Trayn

I, the counthry altogether.”

ROD? THE ROVER.

 

 

are you sure they're all asleep in ,the room
widin ?"

“Lord bless you, ay, are they," replied Ma-
lone ; “ but any how, there’s no harm in speak-
in’ low."

“However, as I was sayin’," proceeded the
other, resuming the thread of his discourse,
“we must contrive to have M’Mahon there,
otherwise it won’t be so aisy to get the net
about him." ,

" Ay, but how will you do it ’2"

“Begad, that's more than I know. If he
knew that Hendhersou to get his gruel, he’d
never stand it. Serra much he’d scruple to
swear against as himself; at any rate he’d
make Hendhersou keep out o' the way, or lave

“An’ Rae han refuses to shoot him! Who
would think he carries the white liver afther
all i" said Malone.

“ D~———n them, they're all a cowardly crew.
Isuppose we'll have to pink him ourselves,
since it must be done."

"Why, it would be betther to 've some 0'
them to doiit if we could. Rae han’s very
willin' to leather him well, an' so is many 0'
them ; but there they stop. However, I’ll see
what the whiskey will do-——ii anything will
harden and work them up, that will."

“ When is it to be done '1’”

“Why if it's not done to-morrow night,
or the ' ht either, the , olice will be
here ;,an’ t en it won’t be so arsy to manage it
safel ."

“ ' if the Rover doesn’t come, what's to be
done ?"

“Why, come or no come, we’ll go on widit.
You, know our first etc is to do for the Agent,
endear next, to get r. Tom out o’ the way;
thmthecoorsewillbe clear, andmadRaokhan
willdo the. rest.” ‘

“ II he bent on takin! her away ?”

“He is, now; but it was I put it into his

‘ head afther the Rover put it into mine, to, be
sure ” '

“It's a right good plan—divil a purtier. Let
the same Rover alone for a clear head: he's as
full of invention as an egg’s full 0’ mait."

“Whisht! there’s voices - here they are.
0 thin, if they only suspected what a dance
we Min’ thim,'it's we might bespake our

'_ooflns. ’

“ You may swear that. Go and let them in."

On‘opening the door, the first that presented
himself was the redoubtable Parra Backhan, at-
tended by about two dozen of his own particu-
~liar faction—desperate and determined men,
,whose chief delight sisted in following their
still more desperate eader in every fight and
riot that took place 'in the country. liackhan
was one of those who could scarcely be said to
belong to any particular faction or clan—his
principal object was to' be engaged in a fight,
without any reference whatsoever to its merits.
Giveghim fighting enough, and he cared not a
single feather who the party was he fought for
or against ; nor, indeed, was he hardly ever
known to ask, at least until the battle was over,
when he sometimes took the trouble of inquir-

' ing what the fi ht was about.

“Now, P dy,” said Malone, addressing
Backhan in a kind of whisper, “you must
speak low; bekaise the family is in the next
room, an’, we don't know whether they’re asleep

or not. ‘ Man 0’ Moses! what's wrong wid your

ll
“ Faith, ,Mat agra, on Friday last, in the
,Cloughnaboulten fair, there was a fight between
my cousins of Cornamucklagh below, and them
ors. When I
saw the decent hit 0’ fightin’ goin’ on, I dipped

‘ in, and’found, afther we had done, that it was

my own cousins I was hel 'in’ to leather; an'

thank God, we did leather t em well too. The

Traynors would put their hands undher my feet
ever since, the pluck ” . I fl

. “Arr so your on t against your 'own ssh
andrblood, Paddy  A " ' .
" Ilfly‘anlI‘m not sorryfori -'in regard thatthe
blaggard Tra rs'was the ' .' Get
acous’whis , Mat, an’ let's warm our noses,

.atanyra ."

“ The on it‘s bad for a fresh cut, Paddy,"
ob’serve Gu by ; “it prevents it from heal-
1n ."

“ Divil a matther for that Gubby, avick;
my flesh has had too much practice at healin
to be put out of it by a gawliogue o’ whiskey ;
——send it hither, Mat."

To the spy and traitor this was indeed a labor
of love, and accordingly Mat furnished him
with the whisky, intiinating to him that he
need not entertain anv apprehension of the
supply is iiirig, innsmuc , he added, “ as there
was plenty where that came from." It was not,
however, till the draughts on the part of Rack-
han and his friends had been deepened and
repeated that the business of the night was
introduced by Gubby, who, with the cunning
peculiar to his disposition and employment,
hung back until he saw that they were duly
excited. It is scarcely necessary to inform our
readers that Rackhan and the friends who ac-
companied him all belonged to the body of
miners, who, in consequence of their own con-
duct, were now out of employment.

“New, boys,” said Gubby, “it's far in the
night, an' whatever's to be done about this
scoundrel, Henderson, that's keepin’ us out of
employment, let it be agreed on at wanst. The
villian's as headstrong as the devil, an' doesn’t
care a single curse whether we or our families
has a morsel to put into our months or not.
Blazes to him, the rascal! does he think he’ll
be allowed to treat us like dirt undher his
feet? What’s to be done, boys ?—-that’s the
chat ?"

“ Laive him," said Malone, “ to:Parra Rack-
him here, an’ if he doesn’t fit him for a wooden
sot-too,‘ I’m not my father‘s son, any way."

" As fares as good honest leatherin’ goes, I’ll
promise him," replies Rackhan, “for that’s
manly an' above rd, but as for anything
beyant that, I'm not your mark. No, no, the
divil a dhrop o' coward’s blood in my veins,
an‘ none but a coward would take away a man's
life, unprovided."

“ Right," replied Mat, seizing his hand with
warmth and admiration; “ there spoke the best
man in the Barony of Ballybracken. Be jabers,
Paddy, you're worth your weight in bank
notes. Come, you'll have a treat from me on
the head 0’ that, anyway, for, upon my sow], I
like a man that has ginerosity in him. ’

“ To be sure I’ll take a trate from you, Mat;"
an‘ new that our hand's'in, let it be a good-
one,—ha, ha, 1311a!"

“ Here goes then for another bottle, an’ only
for the bad stomach I have, it’s not lookin’ an
I'd be the whole night, an’ and drinkin' goin‘
fen-id; ~howandiver, stomac or no stomach,
here's your health, Paddy !—boys, your healths,
an' success to our plan anyway; an’ here, too,
while my hands in, a toast:

“ ’Perpetual blume

To the Church of Rome,
And an ovarthrow to her enemies l' "

“Well done, Mat;——sowl, the game dhrop’s
in you, In "' '

“ Why, ' replied Mat, “ I’m no great things
so far as piet goes ; but still, there's ne’er
another man a ive I’d let go before me for the
same Church; I‘dshed my blood for it, if I was
ordhered by my superiors to do so; an' sure
that’s every Catholic’s duty, anyway.”

“Throth, Mat," replied Gabby, “you’d take
care 0' number one, in the mane time."

“ Would I, indeed? you’re at your contradic-
tion still, Gubby; divil a word can cross my lips
but he attacks; what are you at now, will yon
let us know ?" .

.“ You’d shed our blood, indeed I” proceeded
Gabby ; .“ wo 't we all do that as well as
you, if it went to that? May be some of us
.ud sarve our Church betther than all that fine
spakin' comes to. " , a /

“Well, may be so,” returned the other vil-
lain; “let us hear it, anyhow.” ,

. “I‘d,shedmy blood it I wu'desired," Gubby
went on; _“ or any other body's blood, if it Woe
to. me my religiomzan’ isthere a manhere

 

 

 

' Surtout.

 

can say as much ?—that‘s the chat l—come
now i" ’

“In fair fightin’ I’ll go asfarasany man;
only put me against the strong side, if you
can," interposed Rackhan; “when a strong
party hates a wake party, they’ve not much to
crow for ; an' by the elevens, it's only a dung-
hill cock that ’ud crow at all then."

“I know," said Malone, “that aceordin' i»
Prophecy, the time's not far from us when
we‘re to walk knee-deep in heretic blood; an'
when that time comes, if I ever live to see it,
I hope I’ll be as deep in it as another."

“ In fair fightin’,” observed the enerou 4
Rioter, “ I’ll go to the neck, if you like, but
divil an inch otherwise.”

“Come,” observed the others, who had not
taken any part in this bit of polemics, “let us
come to an understandin' about Henderson.
What’s to be done ?”

“I'll give him ashirtful of sore bones for
you, if that’ll do,” said Rackhan.

“ Ay,” replied Gubby, with contem t; “ an'
then he’d give you a year and ah in the
‘stone jug.’ No, no, Paddy; whatever's to be
done must be done so as that he won‘t know
who does it. On second thoughts, it ’ud be
more prudenter to give him another chance-
but we can frighten him in the manet-ime.”

“ Bad as he is we musn't take his life, at any
rate,” said Rackhan, “ I‘m against that."

“ So are we all,” said the others, “mnro
dher’s a bad businessg—an' to tell the truth, we
had no raison for turnin' out. Don't we know
now that Gubby there was wrong, when he said
we hadn’t as much wages as other miners,
wherein we had more than some of them. "

“ Iknow," said Gubby, “ I was led asthray in
that; an’ for this same reason he’ll give Hen-
derson another chance, although, among om-
selves, he's as great a villainas ever chewed
cheese, an' a bitther pill against our religion."

“ Well, an’ what‘s the other chance you’ll
give him ?" asked the Rioter.

' “A flash in the pan,” replied Gabby; let ’

Mat there charge that pistol that he has, wid
powdher, and one 0' ye: can slap at him some
night when he happens to at his nose out. Be
my sowl if that won't trig ten him to employ
us, we must think of something else.” ‘

“ Well, I will agree to that.” observed Mat,
“ bekaise there can be no harm in it; for dear
knows, to tell the thruth. I wouldn't wish, bar
rin’ in open fair fightin’, as Parra Rackan says, to
have one's blood upon me. An' now what 3 the
night ;—to-morrow or the night afther ?"

“ The sooner the betther,” said Gabby; “ so
I'd advise for to-morrow night. ” v

“ Well, then, bekaise you do advise it," re-
plied Mat, “I’d advise the night after ;-‘—there'll
be less moon." ' ‘

~r

“I obail," retorted the other, “that what- r

ever say, you’re a'most sure to contradict
me." .
“ Well, then," said Rackhan, rising up to go,
‘ ' let itbe other marrow night; an’ as far as a
in the pen goes, itmaybe as good ass drubbin’
to him ; not that he ever was a bad man, barrin'
that he's stifi-necked inthis business. Come,
boys, let us start home."

Mat and Gubb , having arranged with the‘

others the math and details of the attack on
Henderson, accompanied them to the door;
when Rackhan, who was about to bid them
good-night, found himself lucked bythe skirt,
and on turnin round was ckoned to one side
by Malone, wgom he followed over, so as to be
Out of heafing. '
“Are you still bent on the other thing,
Padd ?” asked Mat.
“ ' as a rock,” replied the Bioter; " you
don’t think I'd go to back out 0' that, Mat? '
“No,” said Mat; “ you'wouldn’t be the man
Itake‘youfogifyoudl ” ‘ ' H
“ You ‘must manage that business for me.
Mat," replied Rackhan ;. “ you know 
you first put me up to it you promised you
would." ' ' 1 ' ' “ ‘

“An’will'too,”returned s: outcry“ ",tif ‘

youbreatheittoalivin’sowi, 'sall us.
I’ll collect the men in sich a wing“ they

Ari

ROD 1' THE R0 I’Eli‘.

 

28

 

 

won’t know what they’re going to do till it's
done; an’ afther that, if you don’t fight out
your own battle, you’re not fit to be fed
on an Irishman’s vittles. Do you know what
that is '9"

“ Why, then, by the elevens, I can’t say I do.
What is it '2"

“ Why," replied Mat:

“ Pittaties an' spittles
Is an lrishmaii‘s vlttles;

an’ that sccundrel, Henderson, is bringin’ us
fast to the same diet, an’ bad luck to him!
Good-night, now, an’ hould a hard cheek about
what you know."

They then parted.

It has been said that there is a pleasure in
madness 'which none but madmen know;
and, if we are to _ judge by the eagerness
with which such infamous scouiidrels as
have recently had their treacherous villainy
against the people brought to light—scoun-
drels fostered by the corrupt sanction of
government itself,—we cannot help behaving,
that there exists in some human hearts 9.
diabolical pleasure to lure the unthinking and
unw into the meshes of crime, indepen-
dently of the bribe which lies in the distance.
As for Malone and Gubby, who intended to
have openly proposed, or rather to have caused
some of the others to proposehthe murder of
Henderson, on findin the nefarious suggestion
would not be receive they instantly modified
their plan, and made such other arrangements
as they knew would bring about the same eflect
by dinerent means. ’ _ ~

“I hOpe you’ll allow,’ said Gabby to his
companions after the others had gone, “ that I
deserve some credit for thinkin’ ofthe pistol. If
we can get them to shoot Henderson, the first
step's taken; then let them try their strength
wid the law an' the hangman. _

“ The only thing now that puzzles us, is how
to get M‘Mahon to be there; bekaise if we
swear that he was there, an' him was'not, he
might be able to prove too clear an alibi against
us, an' that might knock up the whole plan. '

. “ All's smooth enough but that,” replied his
companion; “I doubt we'll never be ableto
manage it, especially as he appears to be sick
of the Ribbon business altogether. Whishtl
by the livin' farmer, there’s the Rover's knock,
if he's alive ; rat-tat, tattat, there’s the four
knocks—two asunder an’ two together ; rat-tat,
tattatagin l-Open the door." V

' Gubby, approaching the door, asked cau-
tiously, “ ’s there?" ' ,

“ Open, open, you fools,” replied the Rover,
for it was he; and scarcely were the'words
uttered, when the doci- was opened, and Body,
once more in his old garb, entered the house of
the now celebrated Molly Malone. When we
say he was in the old garb, we shOuld add, that
in addition to that, he had now on a sat cost,
which buttoned u to his eyes, an from the
double breast ets of which he produced
two cases of istols, which he do sited oaths
table at whic the Ribbonmen h .been sitting.

“ Here is some lump-sugar," said he, “ for I,
took it for granted you might not be supplied.
with that commodity; get me a tumb er of
punch now. as soon as you‘ can, I amvery much
fatigued and jaded.” - _

,“ Begad, we never wanted it more in put
lives ;" said Mat, “ we‘re in the devil's stew.
' “Very, likely; and yet you are no block-
heads either, what is the difficulty now '1’"
“Why, you see," said Gubby, “ we have as
urty a plan laid for makin’ them shoot Kon-
‘ demon, as ever you heerd';" he then detailed
to him the full particulars of the intended
murder. , 2 . _‘ '
“Howiver,” he continued, ‘ fit's well I thought
of theflashin thepeu, for whatdogcu think,
but refused tokill  Mad. add Riot
wouldnt go beysnta batinl; neither-we d any
yotmem”_‘.f,r ' , I , I, ‘.- V.

“And you, cursedblookhead," said Body,

"“why did you startle mamas-1th the open pro-
: "a imurder? Surely; you ought to have
m that these fellows are too fresh yet for

I

 

such a step as that, unless when artfully man-
aged." , I

“But,” replied Mat, “you’re wrongin‘ us ;
for we did not propose 0 en murdher; the
thruth was, we found it won dn’t do."

“ Right," replied Body; “ in that case then
you have managed very well ; but what's your
difficulty ? "

“ Why, to get Toni M'Malion saddled wid the
joh,—wid the inurdher."

“And you know not how to do that, I pre-
sume ; ”

“ 'I‘hrue for you; there‘s where we stick. "

“ In that case, then,” proceeded Body, with-
out a moment's pause, “ you, Gabby, must go
to him secretly, a short time before the deed is
to be done, and tell him of it, and that if he
wishes to save Henderson's life, he has not a
moment to lose; add, that if he does not 0
to the spot immediately, and prevent it, t e
man will be murdered. If that does not bring
him there at once, nothing else will; and if any
circumstances may happen to fall out against
him, I know you have quickness enough to
avail yourself of it. Let what may happen,
young M'Mahon must be in gaol before a week
passes."

“ Any word from the magistrate ?" inquired
Malone.

“ Mat, my good fellow, you know I answer
no inquiries, so it is useless for you to put any.
As it is, I can sim 1 say, that matters here look
Very well since film the neighborhood; the
country is certainly in a dreadfulstate; but
Scarce sumciently ripe yet. There is, how-
ever, ttle or no time to be lost, and we must
grew matters to a close as soon as we can safely

0 so.”

"Ihop’e you didn‘t forget puttin' in a good
word for us,” said Mat ; “that business of the
Connors in regard of the swearin';”—-—

“Is forgotten,” replied Body; “if'you an'
anby act yourpart well here, you will‘neither
of you have cause to repent lt—I can say that
much. Hand me that great coat, for I must be
ofl.’

” Did you thravel far today 1‘" asked Malone
again.

“ Mat, my ood fel "—,——-— I

“Well, wel -——I forgot," said Mat, and help—
ing him on with his coat; “ beg pardon, I for-
got—but before on go, I have more to say to
you about the ot er thing." -

“ I’ll see you in sufficient time for that,” said
the Rover; “so make your mind easy—Dent
imagine I have any, intention of neglecting that
point; only you know that one transaction must

0 before the other; he must be in before this

y week—an' when he is there "— he paused,

pistols. '-

“ Well ?" said Met, with the same imperturba-
ble irit of inquiry; .

“ y," replied Body, in that case I think
we must—. Go to hell, you impertiment
villain!" said he, recollecting himself, and catch-
ing the rying glance of cunning curiosity .which
was ' ' la in Mat’s features.

“Iwarn'you,” Mat." he added, sternly—then,
changing into good humor, he bade them good
night, advised them to be cautious and steady,
and immediately disappeared.

Ournarrative now carries us back alittle; that
is to say, to the day after the night on. which
Body returned an answer to the Epistle of Miss
lmi y Sharpe. Her father’s wish to see Rody
again proceeded from an anxiet to sift him
severely, but as evasively and in ectly as pos-
sible, touching his allusion to the Black Com-
mittee, and the source from which he received
his intelligence. The only theory on which be
imagined that the idea of its existence could
have become known to any one, rested upon an
apprehension that it might have roceeded
from an inveterate habit of unconsciously so-
lil iiizmg, or talking aloud to himself, when

:thin i of .those very matters concerning

which e deepest scores was necessary. 'On
subjects of indifference e was as silent,“ u
statue; but whenever a plot was iii the‘win'd,
or some corrupt project to be executed, such

 

was his earnestness, his anxiety, and the busy,
fldgety eagerness of his manner, that the mind,
incapable of remaining still, absolutely was
forced to the expedient of unconsciously giv-
ing vent to a portion of the little whir Wind
which agitated it.

After a long and ingenious crosmexamination
of Body, upon matters which had evidently, or
at least apparently, no connection whatsoever
with the subject next his heart, he could not
avoid giving most ludicrous manifestations of
this very weakness; for instance :~ '

“So, Leeper, you tell me that everything is
going on as we could wish ? " ' i .

“ As you could wish! ” returned the other.

“ Ay,-—well, it‘s not worth while to make the
distinction; you will find, Leeper, that our in-
terests will be identical; so that the ‘we’
might have done on the present Occasion.
How the devil could he hear, or know, or

ream, anything of the Black Committee,
though !——it‘s a miracle.——d—--n me, but I
must have blabbed it out to him sometime, in
one of those d—d soliIOqi‘ijes of minel")

“ Why," replied Leeper, “you may rest as- ,

sured that everything is going on as ou could
wish. Yes, and as I have already to you, be-
yond your expectations."

Thank ou, Leeper; you are a trump. and
nothing e e. I had no particular business with
you, although I told you call exce t moral to
confirm— (eh—whymyes-ahl ——-n, 6’
up to it—to that cursed business of the Black
Committee)—yes, merely to confirm what you
have already told me. Now goto Ballybracken.
Leeper: ripen everything there—ripen, Isay,
and lose no time: and then~after the op:
preaching Louth business—then, I say for your
appointment. I have told you that winter-
ests are identical; and you shall find it so. Now
good-night. Leeper-—-good night. If I could
see you in daylight I would."

“Asto that,” replied Bo‘dy, “you neednot .

make an apology; utI think en mi tallow
me a bed in your house, ,espe w on you
admit that our interests are no identical. "‘

“Lee r will you allow me to tell you one.
cret? had some thoughts of this-myself; but
upon my soul, Emily, my daughter, hastaken
such aprejudice against you, that I dare not’aak
you to sleep in the house—{that d—d Black
Committee is what he’s after, the scoundrel?")

“That is quite suficient," returned Body;
“if she has taken a prejudice against me, I
bid you good night."

“It is not my fault, Leeper; but the truth is,
she hates the ground you walk on. Now, that
you know as much, and the reason why, too,

“ ot a word, sir'; good night." ‘
“Good night, and God bless and eternal]

d—n you and-and—‘that——B  ‘
my dear Leeper. Good night. "

We_ have given only a very short portion of
the dialogue between Body and on the

night appointed by the latter to meet in. Af-
ter their separation, Appleton andhe met, as
they did before, in the stable. 1

“Well. Sam," said the Rover, "what news"
to.ni lit ?” . x

“’ ure, I’ve got her whole histhory, sir.‘

“ Whose history?”

“Why, the divil’s clip widin. She-has ital!
from the mother.
malivogue the scwl out of him; an’, by all ac-
counts, wore more horsewhips on his body than
ever he did on his horses." . ' ’ "

lOW could I ask yOu? It's all about your wife, '
as he finished buttoning the coat over his Lee " ,, ‘

When alive, she used to ‘

"Such as she is, however, give her lot-A

ter, Sam ; and whenever she

etsou sous.
threatenherwithmwhnhagslf’ 

"No, no; I wouldn’t venture on'n threat; »

onlyGod grantmegraceand lucktillI cut

or the house. Sure no sarvint can live

her, man or woman, the thief 0’ Many! '5‘“

do you know another micret I have to to“ 1m

about her?" “ ‘ ' l  “ f
" How should I?" ‘

uAugh. by my earl, slicing ,,

Sure’she rises‘ thallttleflngbr' , ~
“I thought as much; and I sum Ban,

\

a“. any“

,—.-=:_ . .A

 

 

 

, on...“ ._.,I_... _..._-'..

I

up? -

. M... A . , .
~. .y-M .n....,._-.. . . 1” “ ‘—
v- ’7’. .i . \— _ _ .. ..

9‘ RODY THE ROVER.

 

 

it’s when she has raised it, as you say, a little ceived from him, there is not one that bears the
too often, that she shows off." slightest resemblance to another; so far from

“No sich thing,” replied Appleton; “ but the , that, they are strongly dissimilar each to the
very contrairy. There’s no comin’ next or near \ other, as if he had some apprehension that I
her, unless when she is_ half gone; an’ then , might, at a future time, be called on to identify
she’s as mild as new milk. Throth, my only ‘ his handwriting, otherwise, I cannot accounti
hope of comforts 1n the liquor. May the Lord iv for such an extraordinary circumstance. If ‘
str-en'gthen her inclination for it, the vagabone! 1 there be anything written at all in his natural 
——1f it was only for the sake of peace and quiet»  character, it is the postscript to this letter, in l
ness. ‘ ‘ _  which he appears to have forgotten his dis- l

“Well, Sam, good night! lee her that let- l guises. Put those two other letters in the post- .
ter—it contains an answer to hers.” Saying office, and make no delay.”

\wor‘ foolish enough to take a fancy to him.”

' picion, I thought it better to undeceive you,

he, now, an imposthor? Oh, the netarnal vaga-

‘Widow M'Guirk's—you know where she lives 1'" 3

an satishct
,nowwrite to
wife’s pm
to Mr. Watson, something may he'done still, l

which, the redoubtable Rover disappeared.

Appleton’s account of Miss Sharpe's exquisite
sweetness of temper was not calculated to ad-
vance her interests in the bosom of our friend
Body, or Leeper, if Sam reported faithfully.
Be this as it may, the next morning. after
breakfast, she was sitting alone in the parlor, ‘
having perused his epis‘le; and as the reader
may probably wish to get a glance at ‘the cor-
respondence between them, we shall indulge
them with the perusal of the two letters in
question. Hcl‘ father had gone out, and she
had Body‘s letter in her hand when Appleton
came to attend the bell—'for She had rung for
him.

“Well, Sam," said she, “I fear my project,
after all, is likely to end in failure.”

“Throth, an’ that ’ud be a pity, miss.”

“ His last letter is a very curious or, at least,
a very cautious, and, at the same time, a very
impertinent production.”

“I su pose so, miss; but he’s a curious
scoundre himself, miss, and a cautious vaga-
boue too."
‘ “ He must be a very unprincipled man, Sam,
toils-eat this unhappy young creature so shame-
m .l!
, “yAnd you tell me he’s married. miss."

“He is; but he has abandoned her."

“Blood alive! Miss Emil , I would rather
than three ten-pennies, I known that
sooner.”

. “Why so, Sam ?"

“Why, begorra." said, Sam, scratching his
head, “I didn’t give the best correcther in the
world of yourself ,to him.”

“Asto what impression you have made on
him concerning me, I am quite indifferent. I
have mentioned the circumstance to my father,
with a request that he might interfere ; but he
declines to meddle in the business at al .”

“ I would rather than three ten-pennies, Miss
Emil , that I had known the real state 0' the
case before this mornin’. Divil cut the tongue
out 0’ me, but I gave him a beautiful account
0' you; but, upon my sow], I thought it was a
love business was between you, an‘ that you

“So I imagined you did; and feeling it
wrong to incur unnecessary and grOundless sus-

and mention the truth. I wonder my father

canvallow such a ' erson in“ his confidence—the

fellow is absolute y an impostor."'
“Animposthor, miss! the Lord save us! Is

 

bone 1" _ .
“ Yes, and his name is not Leeper, but Gib-t

“Gibson 1 oh, the villain! was there ever the 

likes known!"

“Go down. by and by, to Monylea; call atlI

“ I do, miss—beside the forge." 1 i ‘

"Beside the forge; .ask for Mrs. Gibson, and 3
'put this note into her own hands—there is no;
answer necessary. Poor young creature! I  ,
leave nothing undone on my part to accomphsh ‘
her wishes; althou h, indeed, Sam, there isi
ve 'ttle hope of it from aman who appeal-5|
 a hardened profiigate. I have Written
four times to. him on her behalf, but without
reply whatsoever. I shall not

again; butif I can get his,
'ssion to mention the circumstances I

who”. Ifoneistobe'dgeofhns
from his handwriting. {us must be a very
uduwflnkindofpemn;tor

Vol the four communications which I have re.

1 to undertake this virtuous task by viva voce ar-

i at least for yours. Think for a moment, when

'In the mean time, allow me to inform you, that

In the meantime we shall place bofore our
readers the two last communications that passed
between them, if only for the purpose of show-
ing the Rover’s talents as a correspondent, and
the consistency of his character, whether on
paper or off it.

Miss Sharpe to Body the Rover.

“Sm: I once more avail myself of your
presence here to solicit your attention to the
state and circumstances of your innocent and
neglected wife; and this I do, even at the risk
of having my own youth and want of experi-
ence quoted against me, as disqualifications
from interfering, as you are pleased to term it,
in conjugal quarrels which I do not understand.
If I have interfered, however, it was at the
pressing instance of Mrs. Gibson, who thought
I might be able to avail myself, for her advan-
tage, of some influence that my father is sup-
posed to have_with you. Independent of this,
I felt that my object was a good one, and not
in any degree unbecoming the delicacy of my
sex. I may assure you now, however, that it'
was not my intention ever to have directly in-
terfered in the matter, but after my father’s re-
fusal to meddle in it, to have mentioned the
circumstances to our excellent ole an, the
Rev. Mr. Watson, as a more appropriate person
for undertaking such a task—were it not for
the earnest entreaties of your wife, who had no
wish to expose your general conduct towards
her, from an apprehension lest she might in-
jure your prospects. This affectionate consid-
eration for your interests on her part, I am
sorry to say, you are not entitled to on yours.
I now beg of you to consider the deplorable
situation in which you have allowed her to re-
main; to remember the solemn. vows of love
and affection which you pledged to her at the
altar of God; and not to leave her exposed to
the many hardships, trials and temptations by
which she must almost necessarily be sur-

rounded.
“ EMILY SKARPE.”

Rody the Rover to Miss Sharpe. ,

“Manna: The only thing I regret is, that I
have not another wife and another quarrel,
in order that the pleasure of maintaining a
correspondence with so fair and interesting a
monitress might be prolonged. Do not, by any
means, give me up as hopeless, nor consider
the task of reclaiming me as dificult; or if it
be difficult, will not your victory be still a more
triumphant one? for certain I am that you
must, and will, ultimately overcome. Nay, I
really think my heart is beginning to yield al-
ready; and, I have no doubt, that if you were

gument, instead of by correspondence, you
would soon teach me to love my wife—as you
are pleased to call her—if not for her own sake,

you look in your glass, whata force two such
eyes as you are possessed of would add to your
arguments ; how much such ' fragrant . bps
would sweeten your morality; and how delight-
fully the' music of your voice would harmonize
all the discordant elements of a heart so con-
jugally out of tune as mine is. _ Do, therefore,
condescend to a personal intemew, In .which—
if your anxiety for the young .Icreature in ques.
tiop be as deep as you admit it Is—the advan-
tages of the discussion will be all in her favor.

the correspondence with which you have hon-
ored me has been carried on with a' bachelor,

 

and not with a Benedict—a circumstance which

might not inappropriately add a new element,
to our discussion.
“ I have the honor to remain, Madam,
“ THE VICTIM or Isnxrnamson.

“P. S.—I now beg to assure Miss Sharpet

seriously, that I am anxious for a personal in-
tervww, With her on the subject. she has done
me the honor to write to me about."

It is no unusual thing to see such a plotting
scoundrel as Sharpe, the father of an innooent
and virtuous child, who, as in the case before.
us, may be utterly unconscious of his villainy.
Her sympathy for Body‘s wife was not only
natural in one of her sex. but honorable to. her
individual principles and feelings. In endeavor.
ing, however, to awaken the Roverto a sense
of his conjugal duties, she unwittingly under-
tookatask in which success was out of the
question. To reform a miscreant, who could
lend himself, and prostitute his talents, to
the accomplishment of such callous and diaboli--
cal agencies, as those in which he had engaged,
was, indeed, a vain and hopeless efl’ort, as even
she would have felt, had she known him as
the reader does. ‘

 

, CHAPTER X.
THE DOUBLE BLOW, AND BODY’S TRIUMPH.

ON the morning of the day whose close was.
designed, as the period a pointed for the assas-
sination of Henderson, A 'ce M’Mahon was ob-‘
served by her mother to be in tears. These fits
of grief were not of late unusual. The time-
specified for the Rover‘s return had elapsed, yet.
there was no account of him, either by letter or»
otherwise—a circumstance which weighed down
the affectionate girl’s spirits very much.

“Alley,” said her mother, “ you are takin
that boy’s absence too much‘to heart.”

“ It’s ’not altogether that, mother," she re-i
plied; ” but I’m afeerd, that in strivin’ to cattle
that business of" his, he got into more] trouble.
Maybe it's in jail he is now.” ' _

“I doubt there’s too much thruth in what
she says, mother, " replied her brother, “ an'
yet, Alley, he may have other things to detain
him away, to my own knowledge; so keep up
your heart, anyway; five or six days will tell as
one thing or another. Although I’m not ' ’
to be married to him,” he added, an ' g,'
“ maybe, for all that, I’m wishin’ to see him as
much as you are.”

“ Alley," said her father, “ go over to the
Esker and stop wid your cousin Peggy 1for a
few days. She's a fine, lighthearted-girl, and
will Sing you into spirits. Go, schora; inthese
idle times we can spare you. Idle, indeed!
God he knows, it’s them that’s the changed
times, and changed for the worse. Throth,
Tom, it looks as if‘a curse, an’ a block curse
too, was come over the counthry. There’s
J emmy Gormley’s barn and outhouses was
burned to ashes last night, bekase he turned
away his sarvint boy, Dan M’Murt, for ‘plottin’
to carry of his daughter." ‘

Tom, after musing a little, started—“Ay, in-
deed, " said he, “they are; ay, changed, an’
woefully for the worse, father; but as to Alley,
I agree wid you. ’ lley, dear, go, as my father
says, over" an’ spend ' a few days wid Peggy
Slevm.
won’t have time to fret; an’ indeed, even if
Body was here, I wouldn’t allow you to marry
gin} till we’d know more about who and what.

e is. -

“ I don’t want to know who and what he is,"
she replied, her eye kindJin with that gener—
ous indignation with whic true attachment
rushes at once to the defence of its absent ob—
ject :—

“ I kno his heart," she proceeded, “too
well to dolibt him for one moment. No; the

verylaat'zordsIheardfmm his  ‘ALA

ley,’ says a, ‘we'ro now partin' or awhile;
but I lave it on you as an obligation, ad, an
a roof that you love me, not to let a single

ght o: mornin’ pass. widout oflerin’ onetime
pathorathroe nosed a mod _.
till coma backto yangin.‘ It-isn'tddch a

.. — Why‘d"... rmmd... ,. A .rm-.-;_.,

She's so merry and shtick, that you. ‘

form-Hi. -

. truff— {- .  ' .

‘ rmm.,.._-...-.. < . t, ‘.' :

min”...

l

i “ , sin-ah; am Inot to believe my own
eyes? 

ROD? THE ROVER-

 

I

boy that I'd have any doubts," she continued;
“ an’ I’d marry him this minute Widout in-
quirin’ one syllable about him; " and she looked
proudly and confidently at each of them as she
.spoke.

“Deed I'm surprised at you, Tom," said her
mother, “for the words you used about him.
That wasn't the way he spoke of you the very
day before he went; ‘I never seen that boy,’
says he, ‘ that I’d put before mefor a patthernto
folly, so much as Iwould Torn—indeed, I never i
met his aiquils. However, that‘s not the‘_ thing.
Alley, acushla, take your father’s advxce, an'
spend a while 0‘ the week, or the whole week,
wid your cousin, Peggy Slevin. Do, asthore,
an' don’t be frettin' ; sure everything ’ill turn

 

out happily soon, plaise goodnessCl .

“ I think I will, mother," she replied ; “for .
I feel my heart very low, an‘ as if there was?
something over me. I dont know what it is, '
but I can scarcely keep back the tears. I will I
get ready, and spend a day or two wid merry, l
light-hearted Peggy ;" and as she spoke, she ‘
passed into another room to prepare for her

i visit.

“ Well,” said her father, moved almost to I
tears by her sorrow, “ he that gets her will get ;
a. treasure that the wealth of a world couldn't i,
purchase. A bright an’ a happy hearth Will ’
your good and lovin’ heart keep about you an’
him, an’ whatever charge of fanuly God may
happen to givo yez.” .

“ Ay," said her brother, sighing. “ it’s you
that has spoke the thrue words, father; among
all we ever knew or seen, where did We ever
see or know her aiquil 'r"

Alice’s toilet was simple, and therefore soon
made. In a‘few minutes she was ready for
her journey, which was not a long one, the dis-
tance between Ballybracken and her cousin‘s,
being only about three miles. When about to
depart, she kissed them, and again felt it im-
possible to restrain the gush of tears which
came involuntarily to her eyes. . _

“Pray for me," said she, “ an‘ while think—
in’ of me, don’t forget him, either.” And so
she departed, accompanied by her brother,
who convoyed her a good part of the way.

The day was unusually fine, and M'Mahon
on his return, having nothing to do, sauntered
round by a new road that had been made. from
the mines, to the town of , in which the
Assiz‘es were alwa 8 held, and which Assizes,
by the way, were t en approaching. Having
turned a corner of the road, over which jutted
a mass of large precipitous'rocks, he was met
by Henderson, who he could observe, looking
at him with no friendly aspect.

“Well, M'Mahon.’ said be, pulling up his
horse, “ you have brought the country toa flne
state among you."

“ It’s in a bad state, sir." returned the other,
“there’s no denying it; an’ indeed I’m sorry
for'it," _

l “I don’t think you're breaking your heart,
for all that," replied Henderson, still looking
at him in a manner that implied no good Will.

" I don‘t understand you. - sir,” replied
M'Mahon.

“ Don't you, indeed?" said the other; f‘all
I know is, that if we hadn’t a riot at the 6196*;
ment of Widow Malone. it wasn’t your fault.

“You must be mistaken, Mr. Henderson, an’
very much, too ; {or I believe, if the truth was
known, it was I that prevented a riot. an may-
be lives from bein' lost.”

 

d I not see you go about among the
crowd. urging them on to violence ? " '
“No,,sirmh." replied M’Mahon indignantly
and warmly, “ you did not.” .
“ Do you dare to siri'ah me? " said the other,
losing his temper. V
“,‘Yes, I do, sir." rejoined Tom ; but how
dare you airrah me, first ? I ‘wouldn'. bear
sioh a word from you, nor from any man.”

, “Wouldn’t you,.indeed?" exclaimed Hen-
derson, in a‘high passion; “ but I’ll make you
bear that. nd worse too ;——and Inow believe‘

on to be e worst sooundrei in the neighbor-

 

oocl'; and take care, my good fellow, thatI

don't lay you by the heels, where you ought to
be, and will be soon, or I‘m mistaken.”

“I tell you what it is, Mr. Henderson, I
don’t know whytyon should attack me in this
manner; but I'll jist say this: by the Heavens
above us. if you repute another word of such
language to me, I’ll drag you off your horse, an'
tramp you while I’m able to stand over you."

He had gradually and unconsciously ap-
proached Henderson in the heat of the quarrel,
so that. while uttering the last words, he stood
directly beside him. The other, who v. A u.
poworful man, and had great confidence in his
physical strength, pulled a. pistol out of his
bosom, and struck a blow at M‘Mahon‘s head
with the butt end of it which only took partial
eifect, although at the same time it gave him a
smart cut in the temple. M'Mahon, who cer-
tainly had more command of his strength by

] being on the ground, instantly siezed the pistol,

which after a short struggle he twisted out of
Henderson’s grasp; exclaiming, as he did it:

“ Now you outrageous rufiian, you may thank
me for not fellin‘ you to the earth this instant."

“ Villian, do it at your peril!" returned his
antagonist ; “ give back my pistol immediately,
or I shall put the contents of this," he added,
pulling out another, “ through your body."

“ Hould 'I" shouted Tom, levelling at him
that which he held, after having put it on full
cook; “by all that's sacred, if you turn your

, pistol toward me, you are a dead man; ride on,

now; you‘re a headstrong and desperate sconn-
drel, an' I’ll not trust you; ride on. I say, and
don‘t move your arm, or I’ll pull the trigger."

“Yes,” replied Henderson, “1 see," moving
on however; “ I can observe that—I see it
clearly—~y0u understand the use of fire-arms
well—you understand the use of pistols."

“ Right well," said Tom.” as I'll let you know
to your cosh—if you don'th "-———

“ Ha ! do you threaten me,? "said the other ,
" that will do.—~I’m now satisfied.——Good-bye
for the present—I won’t forget this."

“ Neither will I," replied M'Mahon, which
observation closed the dialogue ; for Henderson
immediately rode ofl‘, without sin demand-
ing his pistol, and Tom uncoc ing it, put it
in his pocket, and crossed the field by a
shorter way, which brought him home through
the village.

It need source} be supposed that he could
pass through Ba lybracken, his face covered
as it was with blood, which. from time to time,
he was obliged to wipe off, without exciting
more than usual curiosity among his neigh-
bors, as to the cause of his appearance; and as
he felt himself under no necessit for secrecy,
he detailed both the quarrel an the occasion
of it at full len‘ h. ‘ Among the rest, Gabby
not only heard is story with apparent sur-

prise, which on this occasion was probably '

real; but as if experiencing more than usual
concern at what had occurred. be accompanied
him most of the way home.

“Tom,” said be. “I’m sorry for this ; sorry
that you should have any quarrel wid Hender-
son -,‘an' especially that his pistol should be
even an .hour in your com any. An way,

you musn‘t keep it a single night in sic times

as these ; bekaise if it’s a thing that he wishes
to bear ill-will against on ”-——— '

“ He does then," rep 'ed Tom ; “an’ I don’t
know wh he should ; but ill-will an' black iii-
will, he oes bear against me-«un‘ did when
we met to day, for I saw it in his face." '

“ Well, so much the worse," replied Gabby;
“don’t let him get you into his power. He’s
gone to-dny to another meeting 0' magistrates,
an' I suppose he‘ll give a fine report ofyou ;-—
well, you see if any outrage was to happen to-
night in the neighborhood-4w you know there
is scarcely a night without one—if there was I
say, an’ you to have his pistol in your
possession, he might make afine handle
of it against you: it’s well Mat’s not
here; for I'm nf‘mrd, between you an' me,
that same Mat s a bad and dangerous ill;
so in the name 0‘ God sli me the pistol},) an'
I’ll hand it to himself tile minute he comes
home”; on know he doesn’t stay out late
now ; I’ say you're sorry for whathes hap-
pened"—*— v

 

“ Say no sioh thing," replied Tom.
“ Well, at an rate I‘ll be able to prove that
you returned him the pistol, an' so far you‘ll
1 e out of his power, let what will happen."

1 Tom, who could not for a moment entertain
‘ any suspicion of Gubby, thought his advice
I not only reasonable, but friendly. He accord-
! ingl gave him the pistol, which the other im-
‘ mediater put into his pecket, and bidding
l his companion good-bye, strolled up the street
to his own dwelling.

The encounter of M'Mahon with Henderson,
and the significant allusions of that gentleman,
coming home as they did to Tom's bosom
with a conscientious conviction of their truth.
were not calculated to relieve his heart and
spirits from the gloom which overhun them.
How Henderson could have been prejudiced
against him he could not guess ; but one thing
seemed clear, that there was among his ‘ao-
quaintances some lurking foe, who had seri-
ously injured him in that person's o inion;
or perhaps had compromised him stil more
f treacherously. Altogether, he felt ill at ease.
and had finally resolved. conscious as he was
of the danger of his position, to withdraw bin!-
self from a combination which he sawpoe-
eessed no one element of goodtooither his
creed or his country ; but on the contrary, had
all the marks and tokens of a system that was
calculated to corrupt and degrade the people,
and set them at variance with the princi lea
of their own faith, the advice of their 1 ers.
and the earnest exhortations of their cler .
All this Tom's strong common some clear
taught him. But even this was not all. a
could erceive how the cultivation of a united
will; eve of peace; temperance; obedience
to the laws, and what is the same, or still hot-

gion; might place a people in a po-
sition to serve themselves, or bontribnte.
if necessary, to their country's good. This
he could understand, but not for the benefit
of a'system that tau bt‘ them to , disreyrd

mission of such indiscriminate crime andyio—
lence as rendered neither person or property
safe. All this passed through his mind, and
when coupled with the protracted absence of
the Rover, determined him to separate himself
from Ribbonismfiorever. Unfortunately, that
was now all he could do. for he found, to his
sorrow, thattc check its progress was utterly
beyond his power. '

Such were his reflections. when, who should
present himself to the family, but the very in-
dividual who had latterly occupied so large a
portion of his thoughts. and not a little of his
suspicion—our friend. the Rover. As isnsual
in rank and genterifiigd minds, howevsafigg,
ve a ce 0 . a rent ‘
with all the light-heartled Eyelid altars for
which he was remarkable, at once mm
from M'Mahon’s mind every trace oifjoeling
that had been injurious to his friend. ,aRody
shook him and his father so aorle by the

hand, kissed Mrs. M‘Mahon, and son I: about
with such joyful emcee for Angina“ he
was immediately en ' ed‘in their plo but

affectionate hearts once more; and Tom liter-
all felt shame and remorse for, yver havmg in-
du god in a suspicion against him.

times welcome 1
kep' you away so long ?——:an’ who "—\
“Not a syllable, mother dear." he replied-9.

answered—where is she? and howis she ff

wasn't yours this day, at any rate. Itfanot

over to spend two or three days wid her
Peggy Slevin.” ' x ‘ 
“ Ay, ny !”
the pleasure of my comin’ , , ,,
she‘s not here 1 But sure I have settled  in)"
throubles ; and every thing’s right. 81 13° 9°
God I" and here he raised his eyes as

 

ter, an observance of the precepts of. their \mli- -

human life. inured t em to the spilling of r 'V
human blood, and hardened them to the com-W

"An' Body darlin’, but you're a thousand‘
An' how are you—anhvght.

“had cess to the one syllable, now, till TI! .‘

more than a couple of hours since show nt’, 

said Rod ,——‘°an'  ‘if
k is 

ham , ‘
an impulse of devotion;——“but‘l Mn it.. 1'
would. for she prayedfcr me night andday ,

t»." 

"Throw," replied her mother, "theme! ., a :5

 

 

 

 

    

. to tell you the truth, she was very down-spirit- ,

‘ _ “ I will," said Tom, “I will ; an' God knOWS,

’ ‘to meet the coach, “I’m'afeerd that/this Rib-

“ you’re goin' to say but I could tell you. .Don't

\ put it carefully in his pocket, handed M’Mahon

‘ stilling and nine pence.

RODY THE ROVER.

 

 

that she is l” 1
' “Then you may say that, Rody; indeed it‘s
herself that did.” I

“ Ay, an' I didn't forget her dither," said he ; 
“look here ; if a purtier pair 0’ bades over wint
through fingers than thim, newer believe me,
agin. They’re for her, sure.” g

“Well, Well," said the mother, her eyesj
sparkling with delight, “if ever two war made i
for other, you an’ she is,—only think, Brian, 
many another Brine Oge would come wid a,
shawl or bonnet, or a pair 0‘ gloves, or some;
thing to make the poor girl proud ; but instead
0’ that, see what he brings—wherein every- L
body knows, that the sowl is afore the body,— 5
glory be to God l”

“ God forgive me for my rascally suspicions !”
exclaimed Tom, internally; “I’m afeerd my
heart isn’t as good as it ought to be; an’, in-;
deed, I feel it’s not." ‘

“Well,” said liody, “now that I seen yez, I
an’ find yez all well, I must be ad agin; but
before I go, tell Alley that every thing's ready ,
for the marriage, barrin my uncle to see her; 
but, indeed, I may say he has consinted too." 

“It’s she that'll be the proud girl, poor

thing i” said her mother ; “ for, indeed, Rody,{

’ ed while you wor away, espishilly as you didn’t 1
come back when you said, an’ that was what
Jnade us send her over to spend a day or two
wid her cousin.”

“ Throth, an’ a smart, pleasant girl Peggy is,
an’ as good company as I’d wish to listen to.
Bring Alley the bodes dhough, and tell her all’s :
ready, and for her to be here on Sathurday, for!
I'll be back by then. But, Tom, what's wrong
wid your forehead?”

“Why, a scrimmage I had wid Hendher-
son," replied Tom, relating the quarrel and its
cause.

' Body shook his head—“I don’t like that,”
said he ; “ Henderson's a dangerous man.”

“An’ where are you goin', Rory ‘2" asked
Brian; "sure you needn’t lave us if you can
help it."

“I’ll tell Tom tha ,” he replied. “Tom,
come and see me a piece 0’ the way ; and," said
he, in a low whis er, “as we’re makin’ up our
accounts, bring al the money you've got wid
you." '

" isht,” replied the other ; “ fetch it, and
we’ll talk more about that when we get to a
quiet place. Well, God. be wid yez for a day or
tum—till Sathurday, any way ; an’ if she’s not
home then, lyez needn’t be here afore me, that’s
all—~come, ,m.”

"Body," said Tom, when they had got a
little beyond the vill e, on their way to the
Dublin road, where Eggy had told him he was

hon business will do us more harm than good ;
indeed, there can be no doubt of thht, I think."
“Be ‘aisy -now, Tom ; there's not a word

you be alarmed at anything. I have news that
will use your heart, man alive; but first, as
Thréasurer for yOur parish. what money have
you in hands ?" ‘ I l '

, "' Forty-three pounds four and nine pence. ”
said Tom; ” but, Rody "
"Whisht, now, Tom dear—how much? you

says—forty what ?"

“ Forty-three pounds four and nine pence,”
“Wait, now," continued the Rover. filling
up a receipt. which he laid upon a stone,;
" forty-three—four—nine. Isu poseI needn’t
count it ; but for fraid, o’ mists es, maybe it's

V betther that I should." ‘
He then reckoned the money, and having

the following document :
“I O U the sum of forty-three pounds four

-r V R. O'N.” ,
"Why," said Tom, “what is this, Rudy?

harm“ not a receipt.”
‘ " a common receipt; but, the regular

«

 

form 0!) our receipt. Suppose, .now, I was to

I ;

-,,.,.. an...  .-.,.,-.T..,.\l..-._.'_-..-. .... ..

an’ who it was collected for, wouldn’t I draw
down a fine ould house upon your head, and
upon my own, and, indeed, giveabeautiful
openin' to the Government—and that's all they
want.”

' “That’s thrue, I grant; stillI hate—Is that
Ticklin’ Tony before us 1» eh—begad it is."

“Is that the ould blade that spits the aqua
fortis ?"

“ The very same—he that gev it to you so
hard the first evenin' you came here. He ap-
pears to be goin' to’ardst the Dublin road too,
so we’ll walk aisy;~—well, as I was soyin’, I hate
any thing that’s dark, and not open and above
board.”

“ An’ in that respect, if ever there was a man
afther my own heait, you are."

“ An' moreover, Rody, I have made my mind
up to take myself out 0‘ this cursed Ribbon
work—for cursed it is, an” has brought noth—
ing but what’s had, an' devilish, an’ disgraceful,
upon the counthry and the people about Bally-
bracken."

“ Well, Tom, I'll say nothin’ now, bekaise I
have hardly time, an’ me has to meet the
coach. Only/listen. Will you grant me one
request?”

“ I will, if I can."

“ One request, now— you grant it? for you
can grant it." ’

“Well, then, I willvthat is, if there’s noth—
ing improper in it." *

“No, there is not, and it’s simplythis—I’m
now on my way to Dublin to see them that's
high up in this business. Now, Tom, will you
jist hould yourself as you are, till I come back
on next Sathurday; an’ afther that, if I don’t
satisfy you wid what I’ll have. to tell you. then
I’ll not say aginst your intentions of lavln‘ us ;
an‘ in the mane time, for goodness” sake, try
an’ keep them back from committin‘ any
violence, by every way in your power—its
your duty. But—well, no matther—when I
see you agin I’ll, maybe, surprise you. Do you
promise me this ?"

“Why,” replied the other, musing, “the
time’s not long—well, I do."

“That’s an honest boy,” replied the Rover.

“Now, good-by, for I must be off; an'
whisper, Tom ;—troth, you might slip over to-
morrow to your uncle’s, and bring the bades
to Alley, an’ tell her I’ve everything ready—or
nearly ready any how 1"

“Very well, I will," said Tom; “so God
send you safe back!”

And thus they separated.
meet? We shall see.

The road now wound round to the right in an
eastern direction, and began gradually toda-
cline, as it crossed the lower portion of the glen
which we have already described as extending
itself close to Bellybracken. That part of it
which the road crossed here, could, indeed,
scarcely be termed a glen, but rather ashelving
hollow, which was soon lost in the plain beside
it. On a stone at this spot, Body found
“Ticklin Tom," seated with his open hands
crossed upon the top of his staff, evidently
waiting for him, his face charged With the same
satirical and bitter expression that was so pecu-

Did they ever

hat to it. When Rody came up to him he

stood, and, as if amused at the natural, unaf—
fected bitterness of the old fellow’s face,'he
burst out into a loud fit of laughter.

“ That laugh comes from a hard heart,” said
Tony; “it has the sharp ring of villainy in it
that there‘s no mistakin’." - ,

“ Especially by a precious old villain that un-

derstands it as you do," replied the other. What ,

fetched you back here so soon ‘r”

“ Why, to see wid my own eyes some 0’ the
blessin’s that you‘brought to t e counthry.’

“Have you any news for me 3?”

“ I have none from Ellen ; for I didn't see
he .”
. “0h, as to Ellen, I know where she is ; but
I don’t know what devil‘s breath blew 'her
there; however, about Madame Pink. Where
is she, do you know ?"

“Be my sowl, she can lay her noseto your"

\ J . /

 

ever since I went— the darlin‘ girl of my heart ‘ give you a receipt that would state the thruth, | trail as well as e’er a bound in Europe. She
an‘ mintion what this money was collected for, "

isn‘t a thousand miles from where you stand
this minute."

“And you came here to put me on my
guard '2 Is that it '3"

HPartly ; but I had another business. It's
reported here that your goin' to be married !"

“Did 'ou hear to whom P"

“I di 7 to a daughter of Brian M ‘Mahon's.
Now, James, may I never live if I’ll stand
that. You must let that girl alone. You don’t
know what I owe Bryan M‘Mahon."

“What do you owe him ?"

“ My life. When the counthry was up
afther mo for—forwwhat you know."

“ Go on," said the Rover, “ you need not.
fear to speak aloud here. There are neither
walls nor bushes near you."

“ \Voll, sure you know it, anyhow."

_ “Yes ; so I'll help you out with it —for hav—
ing betrayed your countrymen to the King’s
troops at the battle of , in Ninety-
Eight, and for which you have your—~pension."

“ I'm not goin’ to see the girl ruined, for all
that. Any how, fifty pounds a car keeps me
comfortable ; but bad as I am, hope I have a.
little religion left still.”

“ Good heavens ! is it an old, double-dis—
tilled truitor like you, who have the hardihood
to talk about religion '3" '

“ Throth, sure enough, it’s a subject
that neither of us ought to open our
lips on, ’feared it might choke us
dead. Howandivor, listen-~you must give
up Brian M’Mahon’s daughter, When the pill-
ilu was after me, I took shelter in his house.
He hid me in an ark of meal, where I was cos
vered near two feet deep, an’ the house full of
rebels. searchin’ for me. That was before he
went to the bad, an' was forcedto come all the
ways to live here on the hard crags of Bally—
bracken. Now, he saved my life, and, bad as I
am, I’ll lose it before hisdaughter oomestohurt
orharm by such a profli ate as you are."

‘/ In the, first place, I vs no design on the
girl; and, in the next place, if I had, it is not
you who could frustrate it. Remember. that I
have only to name you to the good people of
Ballybracken, and your wretched life is not.
worth one day‘s purchase,”

“ Couldn’tl return that compliment? eh ?"

"No ; I have acted with such caution, that, in‘
any event, the thing would be impossible: But,
suppose you let out everything: what haveIto
do? Only  denounce you as the celebrated
spy of m Ninety-Eight. And who, let me
ask, for the very brief period of your existence
after that, would believe a word‘from you 1i 5‘?
Why, I have only to appeal to Brian M’M on
himself, and you stand convicted—eh ?" '

. Itody, while uttering the last words, had been
sitting upon a stone on the opposite side of the
road, which was here but narrow; and with
singular—almost wonderful—felicity of imita—
tion, he placed his hands on the head of his
stick, for he had one, and threw hisface'and
eyes into an expression almost identical with
that of Old Tony. The latter was so much
struck with the truth of the mimicry, that he
was forced to give a sardonic grin—for he
never at all laughed—and exclaimed:—

-‘ You divil’s limb. it’s too bad for us to
quarrel; only romise me that you won't in-
jure alley M‘ ahon—but that’s nonsense." he
exclaimed, ,“for what is an oath from you. let
alone a promise, worth ?" ' i

“ Not much," replied the Rover; " and for
that reason I’ll not give it. "

“Well, then,” said the other" “ I'll'go down
to Ballybracken.” I

“Not till you tell me where Madame Pink
is ;” and the Rover looked him keenly and
steadily in the face. ,

,” Why, then, for wanst I’ll tell you good
news," said Tony—J“ she's in her grave. She
tuck to dhrink, and then went away with big
Weatherhead, who was Sargint in the Train of
Artillery." ‘ . _. .

” How long is she dead,” asked Rod .

{I About six weeks ago—she died of" din-ink.”

“That will do.” said Body. "Good 6.”

They then separated ;' Tony turning to hal-

\

 

 

/

\

 

l
r
4
i
>4

at r:

.‘a z... :13

u. .‘mfls 123.25:

 

. :-_.n.._*;l . _

BODY THE ROVER.

27

 

 

lybracken, and the Itover pursuing his jour-
ne .

‘3: Now,” said the latter, after Tony had pm-
ceeded a few yards, “ none of your old treach-
ery~or if you do "———-—

“I know who I have to deal wid ; an' as for
you—~let the girl alone ~ that‘s what‘s I say.”

“ The lying old villian has mischief in im,
I» fear," thought the Rovei ; “ it’s not ten days
since I saw Madam Pink, although she did not
see me ; and now he deliberately tells me a
series of groundless falsehoods about her.
However, as my drama here is now so near a
close, I have no notion to suffer his treachery
to let the curtain down before the play is over.
At all events, I think he’s late ; at least I shall
make him so.”

"Hit or miss," soliloquizcd the old fellow,
“ I'm bent on savin’ the innocent girl from his
villany. Maybe, afthvr all, the report’s not
thrue ; so I’ll be cautious, un‘ pccp about me,
till I see how inatthcrs look ; for wn-ll I know
what a scoundrel of hell that vagabond is."

He stood, and turning round to look after
the person alluded to, he saw the Rover
in the same attitude looking after himself.
Each gave a menacing shake of his stufl'at the
other, and proceeded on his way.

The day past heavily enough, and gloom-
ily, with young M‘Mahon, who, now that
the singular influence of the Rover’s
presence, and his remarkable truthfulness of
manner, were not upon him, felt something like
suspicion still obtruding itself into his mind.
Nor was this diminished by reflecting upon
the circumstance of his having, with such
an easy appearance of business andlauthority,
deprived him of the money ouwhich 'he had
no particular, or, at least, intelligible claim; in-
asmuch as he (Tom) knew neither the purpose
for which it was designed, nor the persons for
whom it was intended. In such reflections as
these the day passed, and night . came on.
Brian M’Mahon and his wife sat at the fire
chatting together, with spirits rendered cheer-
ful by the flying visit of the Rover; their
theme—the gratifying prospect of peace, affec—
tion, and happiness, that lay so distinctly before
their child, in consequence of her marriage
with the Rover. Nor can we omit the simple
delight with which the good and amiable wo-
man performed her devotions upon the new
beads which he had, with such a laudable re-
gard for religion, urchased for Alley. .At
length they went to ed—to a happy and guilt

- less bed—where their slumbers were unstained

by crime or the consciousness of evil, and Tom,
as was frequently his wont, sat at the fire, re-
vising the incidents of the day, and attempting
to combine them into sdmething that might re.
have him of the depression which was once
more gathering over his heart. At this mo.
ment a. knock came to the door, and Malone, on
its being opened, entered hastily, andappa.
rentl in a state of dreadful excitement, '

“ om," he said, having firsthbeckoned him
outside the door, “if on Wish to prevent
murdher, for the love of od, follow" me!

“Why, Mat, what's the matther? . ’

v ‘.‘. Hendhcrson—thcy’rc about Hendhersons
house, goin’ to murdher him!"

“Who is ?" ,

, “Oh! I don’t knowv-the boys Get your
hat. for the love of God, an’ come wid me, or
yo .’il be too late.” . _

“In an instant." he rephed; then going to
his father‘s bedroom, he said, “ I’m 'gom' up
the town, father, for a while.- I dont expect
to be long. You had betther secure the door,
an”an I come back I’ll tap at the wmdy.’

“ Very well, Tom, achora,” said the old man;
“do not be lon . An’, indeed, Tom, it's not
easy for you tollook well, you're out so often
at night. If you wem't the good son' you are,
I'd scowld you for it; but I can’t spake
to you, at any rate. You'll be home now as
soon as u can." ,

“nag: Iwill; an‘ I cantell you, father,

for own comfort, that afther. this night,
you never have to spake to me agin upon that
subject." >

It is not our intention here to detail the scene

 

of bloodshed which took place at Henderson's
on that fatal night, nor the diabolical success of
the plan whichwas laid with such malignant
ingenuity for M’Mahon's destruction. His
father, having lit a candle to let him in, started
back on witnessing the expression of his face.
which was wild and cadaverous withtcrror.

“In God’s name, Tom," asked the old man,
“what has happened that you're in sich a
state ?”

“ Ah, father!" he replied, “ I feel now that
my suspicions wor right. There has been an
enemy—an enemy ! no, but a devil—a devil
out of hell, among us, decuivin’ and betrayin’
us—a d—d traitor, that the gallows is too
good for. ”

“What do you mane. Tom? I don’t under-
stand you.” -

“There has been murdher committed this
night. Mr. Hendhcrson has been shot.”

“Saver above, Tom! Mr Henderson! Oh,
who could be devilish enough to murdher the
man that was sich a friend to us all, and in the
oounthry round about us 2*"

“ That I can’t tell ; but he has been shot not
half-an-hour ago. The body of police that was
expected here to-niorrow has been sent for to
,where they sleep to-nignt.-—-T'he villain
of perditionl May the curse of God light upon

ini l” -

“ Upon who, Tom '2"

“Upon the traitor, Rody the Rover."

The mother had now risen, having been
alarmed by the excited voices of her son and
husband, and exclaimed—

“ Rody, why, what about the poor boy ? has
anything happened him '1’."

Tom threw himself on a chair; and, putting
his hands withaconvulsivc movement of bit-
terness on his face, burst into tears of keen and
scathing indignation.

“Oh, I know,” said he, “Ifcel now, when
it’s too late, that that deep an‘ damnablc villain
is at the bottom of this and all the other out-
rage and villany that has, come of late into the
counthry."

“But what makes you say so, Tom ?" asked
the father.

“ Hut, Tom avoumeen, you must be ravin’——
Is it Body? the poor boy that never missed
goin’ to his knees 'night and mornin’—why, it
was only afore I went to bed myself that I sed
my lock 0’ prayers upon the new bodes he
bought for poor Alley.‘ ‘

“ Father, I can't tell you any more about my
raisins for suspectin’Rody—but I do, suspect
him, and I tell you all the wathcr in the say
wouldn‘t wash him clone of i "

His mother. on hearing ‘of the dreadful
crime which had‘been perpetrated so very near
their threshold, aS'it were, wept aloud, as did
old Brian himself, on'reflecting upon the de-
plorable state of lawlessness and crime to which
the neighborhood had been brought. '

“But, sure, Tom,” he observed, “it couldn’t
be My who Occasioned all this. Is there a
night visit that’s paid, or a notice sent to any
one, that’s not done by the villains that has
christened themselves ‘ Molly Malone’s he s,’
an' that wuwhcn he was away from -
bracken." \

“ Ah, father," replied Tom, " you know lit-
tle about it—on’ it's well for you—~that’c all I
have to say—-I’m afcard it was a black day an’
a bitthcr fate that ever sent Body the Rover to
our roof. Father, go to bed—an" do you,
mother, do the same—as for in self, I’ll go too
——but, indeed. it‘s little sleep ' come to my
eyes this night.”

“Little of it will trouble any of our eyes,"
said his father—“ an’ the polio is sent for, you
tell me 1"

“They are. an’ I’m glad of iii—Mat Malone’s

 

harsh gone off after them, hot too ." -

“ Well," exclaimed the old man, “ may the
Lordin his marcy send backthe peacenn’quict-
noes, and honest industhry to the country that
we’ve had, I pray, achiernah’l"

They then retired to bed, but for many an
hour not to sleep. At length, when they did.
their slumbcrs were lesc‘ tolerable tlmr their

 

 

 

waking momenta. Images of bloodshcd~con—
flagrataons-riot, and massacre, floated through
their disturbed faculties-mingled throngs of

licemen—malefactors —— soldiers -— murdered

dies~glbbcta and executions. hovered in
frightful imagery before their fancies. andfillcd
their souls with that sense of terrible and al-
most uiiendurable reality, which, like night.
mare, sometimes makes sleep so oppressive and
frightful.

Early next morning the inhabitants of Bally— .

bracken were astounded by the rumor of that
which we have just detailed—and it is only
truth to say that the village and the county for
a considerable distance around ware filled with
tumult and terror. Henderson was still living,
and able to speak; but there was no hope what-
soever entertained of his recovery. About .
eleven o'clock several of the surrounding mags
istracy arrived, who found a. surgeon with him,

u

by whom they ascertained that he had been ,A a

shot through the breast‘thc bullet having pen-
etrated his right lung. Thorn was, the surgeon.
assured them, but very little time‘ left for

the purposes of justice, as the dying
man‘s strength was fast failing him,
and not a moment should be lost

in taking his informations, or at'least his death
bed declaration. His informations were accord—
ingly taken, which were briefly as follows :

About twelve o’clock, the preceding night, a \i, A

violent knock came to the door, and a voice
shouted aloud his stable was on fire——the infor-
mant, however, having immediately disap-
peared. 0n proceeding to the stable, he per-

ceived about fourteen or fifteen people press- - ‘

ing towards him, and a young man attempting

to keep them back, using at the same time low *

and smothered language, which he ,could not
understand That young man was Thomas

M’Mahon, whom he distinctly knew, for he ,I‘_

(M'Mahou) up reached him (Henderson) with
a pistol in his liaud, He knew by his features,
as well as because his head was bound b a. red,
kerchief, in consequence of a wound w ch he
(deponent) had inflicted on him ybcterdny with
the, butt-end of his pistol. At that moment,
M’Muhon was knocked down by, as he do-
ponent) believes, some friend, who wish to
save him from the violence which that person
intended him. He then stated their quarrel-on

the previous day, and the circumstance of. '

M'Mahon , having threatened him, and taken
away his pistol. 1
same time that M‘Mahou was knocked down, he

(deponent) received a blow which deprived him ' i

of consciousness for some moments, and‘hc

,.

,n

Immediately, or aimed; at the , - ‘ ”

fell; he then heard a pistol-shot, which startled  "1'

him, for he felt that he had been wounded; and
on opening his eyes, he saw two or three men.
whom he could not know, draw away Thomas ‘-

\ J y.

M'Mahon from the spot where he (deponentl’ " 

1a , but without having the ' tolthnnin hand.
lil'Mahon, and the persons 
immediately disappeared, and the, servants,
alarmed by the re art of the plumb-c1:th ' ’
himgrcan and exclium thuthewus hot, no
out with a light, on ascertaining. Winm
had gone awn , and foundhim stretch
hack wounde -—t:he very pistol which Mm
had wrestcd from his hands thedaybctore,
lying beside him, still warm, after baring been
freshly discharged. v ' '

L ,,

I“

.g;

, if;

Alas! to what other conclusion oouldithe, w

man came, when we comider with wlnt infor-
nal ability the plot concocted against hinwns
conducted! -  
It was now, however. that “ the friendlan ,
pcoge " commenced at once to earnthc whch
of t eir iniquity. Three more, as forming a ‘
portion of those who had been recent. was
also recognized and sworn too; at the claim
of justice were still more am lygratifled for"
on Henderson’s expressing
Malone and Gubb , if not  001:-
nected with these arbarouc outraged. m at

least cognizant of many who had been Ohm 

in them—«information which hehcd 'coimnu-
nicotcdto the m ctmtcs Wit min?
mediater determined tcsccure them "thin

bomg the very consummation which  had

is opinion that v ‘ ,

 

r, U

l

..‘.

.
‘4

F,

  

 

 

    

 

 

1::

a»; < 32::—

“an-a

whey: -

 

u... ..._.__. M-m
....__._...__.-...._..._.._._. .

f,

. ....M-....

( . .
,

I

    

28

ROD? THE ROVER.

 

I

been instructed by the Rover to bring about ,
and we see with what abilit and success. 
.b eing arrested they playe their cards mth
consummate skill. Malone strongly denied
that he was in any way connected with Rib-
bonisrn, or knew any thing at all of the out-
rage upon Henderson; and added, that in con-
sequence of the name which his mother had
got,he had made up his mind to leave the
neighborhood and seek employment else-
where.

Gubby, who had a different card to play,
corroborated this in a manner which displayed
such alternations of guilt and innocence, as he
knew would induce them to press him for
further information ;—tirst assuming a bold
and obstinate demeanor, but still the demean-
or of a man who had been taken unawares,
and who felt so completely puzzled that he
scarcely knew what to do or say. Indeed, it
was wonderful how naturally his confusion and
simplicity « betmyed him, in spite of the over-
wrought caution with which the said confusion
and simplicity were veiéed. He was in a per-
fect state of terror, an acted his part so. ad-
mirably «went through all the nice gradations
of experienced treachery so wall A lost his
battle with such a sincere desire tor victory"
sufiered himself to be overcome with skill so
inimitable, and yielded at last so gradually, de-
bating step by step, an '1 with such admirable
tact, that no human being could possibly, for
amoment, even dream that he was acting so
wild and detestable a part as that of a spy.

Our readers are too well acquainted with the
history of these melancholy procedures to ren-

V ider it necessary for us to dwell at any length

upon the more details of law. Henderson died
that night, having left behind him a solemn

I ' death-bed deposition, that he, to the best of

his belief, received the fatal wound from the
.hand of Thomas M'Mahon.

On that night, too, Thomas MMahon" and
nine others slept in the gaol of , whilst
honest Gubby was on his way to that .3511

 

- Dorado of spies and informers, yclept Dublin

Castle. The post assigned .to Malone being to

‘ v-remaiu where he was, for the purpose of in—

structing and aiding the police, and'identitying
his victims, he. of course, held his ground, for
it was not deemed politic or judicious that
“Molly Malone," who now stood forth asthe
representative of the injured party, shOuld for
"the resent, withdraw her authority from her
children by leaving the neighborhood.

 

u

CHAPTER XI.
n. mfi)X‘S—BODY'S ramsm m ram
\ ‘ ' msrnnss. I

,  of the peculiar features in the character
of Body was the power he possessed of 
 unexpected events or circumstances to '

peculiar purposes; and, consequently, to turn

every fresh incident that occurred to his own
advantage. When he met Tickling Tony, the
Ian he had basal formed to facilitate his
ospica‘ble and vii ainous designs upon the
1 crous and confiding Alice MMahon’ was a
Sign!“ one from that which he tin prac-

, tioe. The death of Henderson an the sensa-

tion'ereated in Ballybracken and the country
ior'mny miles around, together with an exag-

. gented account of the quarrel between him

and her brother, could not but reach her.
'Common thine had it that Hendemn, the day
'bei’ore his death, had severely woundedNyciung

a on,

’ "/‘M’Mahon b a pistol-shot, and that M

in revenge, ad taken his life on that night ;—
not certainly a way unnatural distortion of the
facts. Shoroons uently hurried home, but for-
tunately arrived In time to see him .a few min-
,utes previous to his being taken to prison.
But. Good Heaven 1 what language coul

' describe the heart-tending scene of his de-

, par-tare and her return, or vo any notion of
 ' thatwas oxpreuegl

in the wild wail
4!! mother and her, and the strong ccuvul.
dwieding‘ot his gray-haired fither! No;

the power of language fails under a task so
difficult}; and we shall, therefore, leave it to
the imagination of our readers, who will con-
ceive it with more effect than we could give to
it by description. Neither was the sorrow of
this occasion confined to his immediate
family; on the contrary, it was general among
the inhabitants of Ballybracken ; all of whom,
young and old of both sexes, felt deeply-for
this crushing calamity that bcfell so harml (‘s
so hospitable, and so kind a family.

Areport had now gone abroad that Gubby
had indeed turned king’s evidence, or stagged,
as it is called, but that Malone, who, however,
was not on bail, spurned all corrupt influence,
and remained faithful to the people—a rumor
which endeared that adroit scoundrcl to their
hearts. The bickerings and general enmity of

bered to Mat’s advantage, who, they knew, had

Gubby’s honesty. In point of fact, the inhabit—
tents of Ballybracken, and all who had heard of
Mat’s truth and constancy, could have lit.

traitorous villain had now got them more in
his power and under his influence than ever.

About a couple of hours after Thomas’s de-
parture, in charge of the constabulary, Mat
went down in a hurry to M’Mahon’s ; and, af-
ter rapidly condoling with him and his dis-
tracted Wife and daughter, he said he wished
to speak with him privately, for there was no
time to be lost.

“ What is it, Mat ?” asked the old man,when
they had get outside the house, at the same
time wiping away the tears ; “ God bless you,
Mat, at all events, for you have no traitor’s
blood in your veins ;—but what is it ? Oh, my
darlin' boy l—my brave, m noble son, to be
torn away from us like a villain !”

“ I always suspected that scoundrel Gubby, "
replied Mat; “ an’ manya time I tould Tom
himself that I didn’t think he was fitto be
trusted. However, I'm sorry to tell you Brian,
that I’m afeerd there’s more misfortune before
yourself an‘ your famil ."

“In God's name, w at is it, Mat? Surely,
there can come nothing worse than has hap-
pened.”

“No—nothing worse, nor indeed as bad—
but still bad enough. You must send Alley
from home this night."

“This night! « Arra, why should we send
the poor girl from home, Mat? an’ this night,
too "

“ You must, then—an God be raised that I
had the knowled e of it in time or her to dis-
appoint them. 0 thruth is, Brian, that
Parra Rackhan an’ a whole lot of the fellows at
his back is to take her away to the mountains
this night ; so now that you know it,
{here's little time to be lost, as you must al-

ow."

“Well,” replied Brian, “but sure we can
lv‘varn the neighbors, and get them to protect

er." ‘ ‘

“I was thinkin’ of that myself;" said the
other; “ but it wouldn’t be safe for this night,
any way. You know it’s far in the day now—
indeed, too late to get your own friends—your
tried friends—about you. Pan-a Rackhan has
a strong back in Ballybracken. an’ it’s hard to
say whether as many of them wouldn't give
him a helpin’ hand as.would protect Alley.
But, at any rate, there’s one thing ybumay be
sure of, an’ that is, that if that mad‘Parra
Rackhan comes to fetch her away, as he will,
an’ finds people here to take care of her, there
will be blood spilled au’ lives lost.
the man, an' that’s enoug ."

“But wouldn’t those new p‘olis protect her?"

“That ’ud be worse, Brian; as sure as you'd
bring Parra Backhan an’ his men an’ the polis,

d bad luck to them, together, there ’ud be open

slaughter, an' the
dogs. "

“Throth, I doubt so, Mat; but what 'ud you
advise me to'do ?" ,

people would be shot like

 

“.Vllhy,~ to send her to her uncle Barney

these two to each other were now all remcm. :

often to themselves expressed strong doubts of F

\

Slevin’s, where she‘ll be snug an' safe for the
night."

“ I b‘lieve it‘s best, then—an’ I will, too."

“Let her slip over, comin‘ on dusk, an' I’ll
convoy her the best part of the way wid pleas—
ure; for dear known, Nd be very sorry to see
anything harmful happening the same girl."

“Throth, Mat, we thought, ourselves, more
than wanst, from the madman’s own talk, that
he had sich aphui in his head; but while we
had poor Tom at home we feared nobody;"
and here the bitter tears gushed out of his eyes
as he mentioned him. “I dunno who could
put it into his head at all; for he’s such a mad
heerum skeerum divil, that he'd not be apt to
think of it himself."

“That I can tell you too, then. It appears
there’s an ould scoundrel they call 'I‘icklin’
Tony, that delights in mischief, and that,
it seems, has some grudge against Rody the
iovur, in regard of Rudy sayin’ that he
i heard somethin’ about him that would git him
, hunted out o’ the counthry if it was known, an'
,ever since he can’t bear'Rody. He said he'd

 

erally placed their hands under his feet; Hose 3, fun, or he'd prevent him from ever put-
and the natural consequence was, that theitingaring on Auey_"

i "An‘ how did you hear this, Mat ?"

You know .

“ Brian, don’t ax me. I heard it ; but sure-

ly you’d not have me to break trust an‘ do a \

dirty thing ?"

“ No, in throth, I would not ; an’ I‘m afeered
what you tell me is too thrue ; an’ I’ll say now
what no one ever heard from my lips More, I
know there's a bad and thraicherous drop in
the same Ticklin" Tony. An' may God forgive
him for this behavior of his to me! for of all
men livin’, he knows I don‘t deserve it at his
hands." i

“Well, God be wid you, Brian, till evenin',
and then I’ll come down an’ see Alley across
the hills." ,

“Thank you, Mat; the Lord reward you
for your good heart and good intintione."

Tickling Tony, though not actuall in the
secrets of Body, nor acquainted with ' prac-
tical manoeuvers. still, as it appears, was suffi-
ciently cognizant of his habits and tendencies
to feel that he was at the bottom of the Out-
rages which had taken place in the coun for
miles round. He could not but know, tom
the conversation which he had with Body in
the Glen of Ball 'bracken, that the rank crop
of crime and ‘vio ence which was bein rea ed
in the country was that of which is friend ad
sowed the seed. The involvement of Thomas
M'Mahon inthe murder of Henderson he also
very correctly attributed to him ; ” he wants,”
reasoned the old fellow, “ to get the coast clear,
that he may fulfil his plans on the sister—but
if I shoul never do another good action
in In life, I’ll- dise point him there," He
accor in l seized the first opportunity of
seeing Ad' on and his wife, in order to
undeceiye lthem regarding the Rover's character
and designs. Indeed, not more than an hour
had elapsed alter Malone's visit to, andcon-
versation with, M’Mahon, when he entered the
house, confident of being able, at all events, to
frustrate the evil p as of the Rover. ' ,

“Well, Brian M u," said he, “it’s
many a long day since I had my foot undher
your roof—many along day since you said to
me, ‘Go your ways now, I have saved your
life ; I’ll keep your secret; but from, this, ,da
fox-rid let me never see on ~undher In 
an’ from that day to this you ever ' ' al-
thou h I was often in the neighborhood."

“ he sooner you git out of it. the betther,
then,” replied Brian; “ once a. traitor, end al-
ways e. traitor.
enough."

“ Ay,” said the other, “you know the evil I
was guilty of; but I’m nowcomin’ for good to
you and yours." .

“ Unfortunate crathur, it’s little 'you
ever did, or ever will do. Instead 0 re ‘tiu'
for our crime an' sheddin' tears of blood for
the lood our thraichery was ‘ the 'meaue ,0!

timper, snappin' like a mad dog at 
that comes next or near you. Laue MW”

 

“I can’trlave it, nor Iwon't till 'I' ‘mivmy

We know you, Tony, an' that's , ,

havin’ spi led, you’re goin' about wid the div?! '

=- o

.Ufl'fil“

RODY THE ROVER.

29

 

mind, 1111' put you on your guard against them
that has left you n Horn heart to—duy, un' that
will still lave you a sorer one maybe to-mor-
row. You are going to lmu'i'y your daughter
to 11 follow they cull Rudy the Rover."

“I am—un‘ you may spore your breath. I
know what you're goin‘ to soy. Lave my
house.”

“ You can't know whth I’m going to say.
you know who this Rovin’ swundrel is '3 "

“I know what you are comin’ to, at all
evints."

“ I can tell you that if you marry your dough-
tor to him, you’ll marry her to u mun thut
hasn't, and never had. one dhrop of Catholic
blood in his veins— a bluck‘horotic, nn' sprung
from heretics.” _

“Once a tmitor, and always u traitor; “'0
know that to be a lie.”

“ He's an imposthvr—u (17 n smundrel that
has two wives livin’ this minutev—un’ your
daughter, if you’re mud enough to shut your ears
to what I’m sayin’, will jist be his third, to my
knowledge;—nnd what is more, he’s the very
man that has been the means of havin' your
son sent to jail for murdher." '

“Him 1" exclaimed Mrs. M’Mnhon, with m—
dignstion ; “ him sent Tom to juil—-the boy
that he loved like a brother, an’ that he  of—
ten an’ often he’d copy ufther while he'd hve.
Our 5 sban rogorah mnough. Put the ouldly-
in’ villain out, Brian; it's not right nor safe to
have him in the house wid us—out wid him."

“ Come," said Brian, “I; understhen' the
rsison of all this. Body knows your history, I
b’lieve.” , ‘

” He does—I grant he does."

“Come, then, you ould profiigate, tramp,"
exclaimed Brian; “ Met was right—every word
right. I declare to my Savor, if you're not
gone in one half minute I’ll throw your bltther
ould corcose out o’ the door, headforemoet. Oh,
I understhnnl the mison of all this well;—he
knows you—you can’t deny ~it—tm' now ou‘d

narther him if you could. make of, say.
ghost 3 thraitor, an’ always a thraitor; but, I
tell ou, we'll have neither thraitor nor throwb-
ery ete—begone." .
“Well,"said Tony; “all I can tell you is,

Do

that the day isn't far from you when youfll have p0

A broken heart torthis."
, “Ay', that's all you're good lor—wishin' an’

prophesyin’ ' ill to your fellow-craythursi—get
ooh—end, is he . he. took Tony gently
by the shoulder, left him outside the door.

The old fellow's amazementh nature at his
reception was indescribable: “ I see. clearly,"

said he, .“thst I'm no match forthatsooun'

drel. ‘Divil take my bitthernessi’had Inot
buld him anything nbont my intentions, he
couldn‘t be prepared 5, an’ now he has poisoned
them sguinst main such a we that I can’t save
the poor girl, let me do w at I will;v'(pt the
some time, Brian M'Mahon had nought to
abuse mess he dicL—an' if he sufiors the con»
sequences of it, divil's cureto hunl', I >
That Brian M'Mellon could be blamed for
the spirit in which he received old Tony, there
is none of our readem,‘we presume, who could,
for a moment, think it possible; 9nd, When
Mat Malone emm up in the evening tease
Alice a port of the way to her uncle Blevin s at
the Esker, they need not be surprised that he
(heard his account of old Ton 's intentions ro-
‘speoting Body altogether rmed. ‘
4' 'f‘Godblese you, Hatfield Brinn‘;’ “I now
know 5 the mild villsin’s own words that what
you'wuld us is thrue. He sve in that Body
did know his histhory- an if the boy threat-
ened to mintion it, I on't wondher that he

. should come here to prevent Body from mur-

ryin' the darlin' girl that he doete on. A110 .
mm, are you r A? Here's list lila-
m—rthrue inland, y, and no threw)!
dike 's waitin' to see yon over the
hills ' Oh, my sour—my son-en sure.

"ochorowhnse thneho Hrs they Won't be

oblstohan «transport-m 'dsrlin' innocent

con? Oblfmlose‘himl—to os‘ehiml‘Godot
Mot—Midfie-

ns poor man staggered, and would have

 

fallen, had he not been caught by Malone. who
hold him strongly in his arms until he recov-
ered.

“I hardly know, Mat dear, what I'm doin’,
or what I'm thinkin’, or what I’m soyin', since
he—he—oh Tom -——'l‘om—iuy noble——my loyal
son-~whoere are you this minute ?—s.n' what"—

“For Heaven’s mkc, Brian, think of your
daughter us WL‘ll us your son. Is she ready?"

“ ()h, (iod lllt‘HH you, Mat l—I feel this kind-
nosS.-——Alley, uchoru. llllu'lll‘m‘, are you ready?
Here’s Mot Mulom, n. thruo friend, waitin' to
convoy you to your uncle’s, uu‘ you know for
why, Alloy, nemhln.”

“ Father,” said she, weeping aloud, although
the delay on her purt haul been occasioned by
her attempt to console her mother, who was
literally almost distracted by the unexpected
charge that had been brought against Tom,
and his sudden arrest; “ father, I know that
llody won’t lose one minute in comin' to us,
an’ that he will bring good news."

“I know that, too, Alloy (lurlin'; for al-
though Tom had suspicious of him wanst, we
know ourselves tlmt it was wrong, on' Tom was
sorry for it.”

“’Oh, I wish he was here, father, he would
be a safeguard en' a protection to me, in the
place of our dorlin’ Tom l"

“ Now, Brian M'Muhon, I won’t stand this,”
said Met; “Alley, good girl, come away; if we
wait here till all your "—he checked himself,
and Alley took his arm, and they proceeded,
she in tears uud bitter sorrow, and he in —,
but the reader must have patience. '

Mat, with all becoming caution, took a. way
thst brought them up behind the town, or at
least the greater portion of it; then they cross-
ed the upper part of the street and came out
upon the open common, where his mother’s
house had been built. .

“ Iwant to love a bit of a, message wid the
wife, Alley," he said; “so jistwait about
halts minute, on’ than I‘m wid 1.x." ,

She‘did so; he almost humegtely rejoined
her, and both resumed their journey. no poor
girl wept the greater part of theway, and Mat
endeavored to give her all tho consolation in his
wer, especially in reference to Body. who,
he had no doubt, would soon return and show
himselfs true friend to the family. In this
way,t:he portofthcdistancehadbeen
traversed, and her uncle Sicvin's house was
within a few hundred yards, whenthey heard a
rapid foot following them, and, on turning
about, they were joined by Body himself. now
almost. breathless with the speed of his pursuit
and his anxiety to overtake them. -

“ Oh, my poor Alley l "- snid he. folding her
in his arms; “ my own dulln’ girl, whet mis-
fortune is this that has come overyouinmy
absence?" -

Alley laid her head on his bosom 'snd wept
bitterly, but made no immediate reply; At
length she said : ‘ -'

“0h, Body, dear. rm so glsd'you're come
back; for we're sllnow in distress cud sorrow
for poor Tom, that was so fond of you, sn'
was so much your comrade."

‘ “ Well, well, Alley, door, don't be too much
cost down. They can‘t do him any harm—so
beswomau; [have a message for you from
your father.” '

“Amesssgelwhstlsit?”- ‘ '

“ You're not to stay in your uncle'u, but to
corne'wid me. Short,“ the finals, Pan-s
Bacan has heard of your comin' here, an’
he‘s bent on havin' you 01! wid him this very
night." .

" God help me," she exclaimed; “ what will
I do, 311' what will become 0! Inc? You seen
my fathom then? " r

" It was him sent me mhcr you, on' tould
me where you were gone to. "Hell her,’ says
he, ‘it‘s my wish you should bkc her to a safe
place for awhile, till we do something wid this
wild Pam Itaskhan-gct hish bound over, or
something, on' tell her, Body, it she doubts
whetypu myth“ this‘ll be a when immune
on! her mother,‘~—ths last words she soil! when
shomlovinthohouoowidpoor, honest,

I

 

kind Mat, was: ‘Oh. I wish Body was here,
father; he would be a ssl'egimrd an’ a protection
to me in the place of our duriin’ Tom l' Now,
Alley. dm‘lin’, am I right or am I wrong?" ‘

“ You're right. Body ; but “ion the last words
poor Tom Spoke to me was not to go from
home wid you until afther we wor married."

“ I know they wor; but he never dreamt of
Puma. ltuckhan’s tokin' you. But, sure, I seen
Tom himself this duy—nn’ if you know his
handwritin'——»"

“ Know it! I'd know it over the world."

“Well, then, when we go up to your uncle's
to toll them this, I’ll show you at few lines uh
he sent you from undher his own hand. desin ’
you to come an' be married by my uncle, on’.
love the neighborhood where Perm Rockhsn is’
altogether. I tell you, my uncle, Father M'Dow-
dle, expects you, an' surely you'll be safe wid,
him." ‘

The poor girl had no further argument to
urge, especially as she at once recognized her
brother's handwriting on reading it over in Mr
uncle's. That family, prompted by their Mec—
tionate regard for her safety, at once agreed-in
the reasonableness of Body’s proposal, and pen-

suaded her of the necessityol' putting hers'df‘ ‘

under his protection and care. , . .

She accOrdingly took leave of them with many \

tears, and, in the cold shadow of on October
night, departed from the relatives who loved
her so tenderly, under the Moronsguidanoo
of her Satanic tompter. '

CONCLUSION.
"And ibolsstltsteof tbstplacewuworeetbsu
the am." - .-,

Tnmuderof Henderson 

ated a very extraordinary m It
not that,“ agar-grimly, :he condition _-dl$h8
com 3 an “amp 0'9, . Wode—
greo prepared the public mm the :W‘
renoe of such atrocities. Notwithstanding-this
state ofthings, however. the, excitement was.
mqmvmt. 3d the 103%.» thwhde
no: r no 0 y serious. utmpemb'

as e reader will in: ' hi

the intelligence of his

in; communicated to the 
the 'm' the inn: ' ' ,to‘
the spno‘te?‘ andy upon rs W'

tion of the !
misguided people. as exhibited in so My
overt sets 0; _Violence. inng hunting.

and mm to both person and w.
arty. they come to the puntulbutfixadend,
deliberate resolution of closing their labor-mud

abandoning the mines a.“ speculation alto»

Accordin ly. on the awning oflzfion- ’ " '1
m ~

that.
5211011.! funeral, t c following‘ .

wosfoundpostedupon every cons ',
in  about Bellybrecken and thqu-
mg districts : . . _‘ . ~ W

"le

e,-'

“The Proprietors or as. mibe :
Mines take this opportunity 01':th thugsin If ‘ '

conseun of the murder of their

Matthew Henderson, Esq. sud of the-'
dieorgnnised state M the 
which, they moon-y to find, 1:
property is safe, they have come to the resolu-
tion 0! closing the mines and dissolving the
Company ;—-a.nd they hereby declare the com-4
malfeahod and the works finally ebon-

Such is, and ever will be, the natural   i l
quenccs of violating the laws oftho land” or '

at least one portion of that consequence." The’
inhabitants of the neighborhood now‘hand
out. by way of s discovery, what admirable

politicians they were. and mgh'uhdon‘l m "1

spocfivc of idleness that lsy m»m , ,
its ususlattendants, um and menu is
nmfflly guinea whu they allow Wot ‘0'
be‘mudiously tom by M
and traitors into

means at improving '

conflict.

Wilma“ _0u

which pounded .ge ’

“some: ‘

‘ 5

ii

combination-‘8 .o‘ I p 5‘

r

X“
r.

  

;,.

 

 ,.,,i:,,;,, ‘ "’, " ’* 

,f I may rest assured that, as in the case of Belly-
hracken, such combinations will end by bring-
ing. down a double punishment upon them-
selves—the punishment of want and the pun-
ishment of law, or, in other words, starvation
and the gallows. This is a doctrine, too, so
plain and obvious that the poorest and most
ignorant man in the country has only to glance
at the wide volume of experience to feel its
truth ; and yet, such is the unaccountable in-

‘fatuation of the people, that they will be cor-

; ruptedund misled by their enemies, and will

 not be advised and warned by their friends.

i

' They are, at this moment, surrounded by an
3 invisible body of special detectives, trained and
disciplined into the deepest reaches of treach-
ery and iniquity, under the very sanction of
government, which is not ashamed to degrade
:6 itself by the double guilt of employing aclass
of men whose services are calculated to destroy
the confidential intercourse of society at large,
and are clearly at variance, besides. with the
spirit of a free constitution.

Henderson’s funeral was attended by the
principal gentry of the county, among whom
wan two acquaintances of ours, to wit Messrs.
M and Ogle. Sharpe, after the interment,
, returned home; but Ogle, anxious to remain
,1 t 101' certain purposes connected with his own in—
,‘y “rests, slept that night in Henderson's house,
i, there being no inn of suficient respectability
, “entertain him in the town. About eleven
i o’clock, on his reaching his bed-room, which

was on the ground floor, a shot was fired at him,
through the window, by some person un-

. known. Malone, who happened to have been
, passingalittleefierthe time, on hearing of
the circumstance, stated that he met a man—
whom he described, but did not know—run-
ning at considerable speed towards the mines.
We mention this circumstance now, not only
because it pro rly comes in here, but because
the redderwi be likely to understand it by
and by. ' - ' ‘
Independently.-however, of the resolution

. "w.__r.s- _.

 

..jf__., A-u.--_

fl‘ _._..x‘__ I

equally runs to that‘part of the count
were adopted‘by the local m ' rates: IX
meeting was called by the Lord 'outenant of
the county. who himselt acted as chairman. at
“which strong resolutions were drawn u , and
a memorial, embodying them. trams and
transmittedf to the Government, urging. tfie
npcest 0 loan' certain portions 0 t e
\c tyundui') martial law. '

An application so powerfully supported, not
merely b the circumstances of the country,
butg t 0 parties who had signed'it, was
loch upon/as a documentof suflicientweight
to justify the government in coniplying with
its rayer. A privy council was accordingly
held), sndin about a week or ten days the
production" was issued, and the good people
ofDall'ybrsoken, and one or two of the neigh-
borlng bunnies, had the satisfaction of finding
themselves under the comfortable Operation of
the Insurrection Act.

Our friend Sharpe—he of the Black Com-
mittees—was now in his glory. The disorgan-
9 5mm of society that took place in this de-
1 ,voted town and neighborhood renders it im-
(‘ perative upon us to detail a brief conversation
iL’ 'whieh occurred between him and Mr. Ogle,
l
l
:

 

 

.-.._...V.T _W... .. us ._......_.. TA... wfi.4.£._. -i.-,._._..

A '1':
-«——:~—

who, as the reader knows, was proprietor of
the district that contained the mines, or, at
. ‘ least. the most valuable part of them.
. * “Ogle, my dear fellow,” said Sharpe. “I
i asked you to breakfast with me this morning,
for a reason I have. Can ou guess what it is ‘9"
i \ “Why then, begad, an upon my sowl and
honor, think I have a goo right. My hon-
! est five hundred? gone ', and barring you have
‘ the commission ready drawn out for me, I
, __ know of nothing else. Qome, I'll hould goold
9“ tosilverit is.” .-

o ' pro s confounded knowmg shot. Read that
' ——but how-the deuce could you find it out. ch?
_ sped-Hyule you plainly in my notethat
m on?" n J. P.,.which  onus told me,

' come to by the proprietors of the mines, others V

BODY THE ROVER.

 

and there is your commission, sent under cover
to myself; but remember it was Forde got it
for youvnot I ; you will please not to forget
that, my good friend. Come now, fork out."

“ And I am a magistrate at last !” exclaimed
Ogle ; “well, anyhow, long life to the Chan-
cellor; for, upon my sowl and honor, and dang
my bones, but he has made many agentleman
in his day. Look at these notes; you see I
came provided with them."

“Thank you, Ogle. Yes, you now stand be-
fore the world a gentleman—ofthe Lord Chan-
cellor’s making. But, Ogle, my dear fellow,
you happen to be proprietor of these mines,
where poor Henderson was so barbarously mur-
dered, d ll.'t a u?"

“Don't you know I do? "

“Well, certainly, certainly I do. Don’t you
remember that some time ago I got a person—-
a poor, simple, but honest fellow, named Ma-
lone—em loyment there '3"

“I do ;% enclosed your letter myself to Hen-
derson ; so that it was I as much as you that
got him the employment."

“Yes ; and the poor fellow is consequently
so grateful to you for it, that he has sent me
word privately to gluard you a ainst ever show-
ing your nose in t e neighbor 00d, otherwise,
he says, you will never carry your life out of
it. You are marked. I had some conversation
with him on the day of the funeral, and his
description of the state of the count was
absolutely frightful. Why they shoul have
attempted your life, though, is a. mystery.”

“ To me it is ; for I'm not a bad land ord——
begad, I'm not; but, for all that, the bullet
broke the lookin’-glass within a full yard and
a-half of me. Faith, I left wet sheets that
night, anyhow ; for I out before they had time
to examine them the next morning. Begad, I
never was in such a swea. .”

“ Ogle, are you mad ?"

“de no, I hope not. "

" I mean, do you intend, to keep that prop-
erty in your possession? or to have anything
at allto’ do With it '1’” "

" Why, how would you advise me, to set i’” r
" Why, ofoourse, tosell it—to get clear of
it—to wash your hands out of its-40 shake the
dust of your feet against its—in a word, to get
rid of it, and lead a safe, gentlemsnly life, as
-a Country Magistrateflbr the rest ofyour days,
without running the risk of having them our-
tailed by remaining the owner of any property
in that dangerous and most blood-thirsty
neighborhoo ." ‘ v . . ....

“ Dazed. I‘m inclined to think you’re right.
I believe the people take more delight now in
shooting a magistrate than they do a .common
man. I'll think of it, Mr. Sharpe.“

“Yes, for your own sake, Mr. Ogden having
been once shot at, I think it is time you
should."

“Begad, I will. then; for if I lose my. life,
,of what use would my property be to me ?"

“ D—————e, Ogle, but you are an oracle:
thetruth and _ori inality of that observation are
worth their weig t in old. Of course, when
a man's coffin is nail , his cruises are very
scanty. D e, I say, 0g 6, but you are an
oracle, and will——if our precious life is pared
-—shine on the Reno as a J. P:, or Justice of
Quorum yet. "

We think thatthis brief conversation throws
a sufficient light upon the cause of the shot
which had been fired at Henderson, and that
Sharpe's friendly anxiety that he should keep
himself from the threatened danger by the sale
of Ballybracken. directs us pretty clearly to
the author and his motives.

It is not our intention here to detail an ac-
count of Tom M’Mahon’s trial, nor to tttempt
describing the double wei ht of Woe which
bent down the spirits of is simple-hearted
parents to the lowest depths of agonizmg sor-
row and wild despair, on hearing the awful
sentence of death pronounced him.
Norwas this their only sorrow. of- their
daughter, Alley, they had received no intelli-
gence, although'the lying message—purport-

 

'Rover by Malone, in his own cottage, was a
sufiicientproof, as well as the forged letter
from Tom, that the Rover was a double-dyed
villain and had brought death and ruin among

4 them.

Of the judge’s address, while passing sen-
:tence, we shall give a few sentences merely,
i that the reader may perceive how successfully
the meshes of perjury and ingenuity was
wound around the unfortunate young man from
the beginning to the close—us they may, at
this day, around any one that will suffer him-
self to be tampered with upon a similar sub-
ject.

His lordship, after having put on the Black
Cap, and spoken for some time on the state of
the country, thus proceeded :

“As for you, Thomas M'Mahon, it is seldom

that a case of such hardened and deliberate
atrocity has come before a Court of Justice;
and never have I witnessed a conviction
founded upon stronger or clearer evidence.
Here is an unfortunate gentleman, with whom
you had a quarrel, and from whom you wrest
his pistol, and who has deposed onthe three.
hold of eternity that your last word to him was
a threat. On that very night you bring
fourteen or fifteen persons with you to his
house, for the foul and diabolical purpose of
taking his life ; and before doing this, the two
witnesses, anby and Malone, have sworn
that you drew the charge out of the pistol, to
make certain that it contained abullet, adding,
when you had reloaded it, this will clinch the
villain! And when Gubby, who it appears
shrunk back from the crime, struck you down,
with the hope of being able to save our victim,
it is so shocking to think of e murder-
ous pertinacit with which you leaped
up and shot him, unprepared, whilst ling
on the ground, havin een felled by a glow
aimed at yourself, Int which accidentally
Struck him. Your leaving the pistol behind
youI consider to be, one of those oversight;
resulting from the excitement‘ of guilt, by
which crime is frequently detected, Inf 1
the force of the evidence against you is firm.
'sistible. Ribbon documents have been found
in your house, and although you say you re-
ceived them from another, ,yet the were all
proved to be in your own handwriting. These
things go to show that your connections were
bad, your’principles ' corrupt; and ydur posi-
tion such as always necessarily leads to crime.
I new entrant on to prepare for a much more
awful trihun than t is, for I feel it my duty,
both to you and the coun , to say—that no
hope of mercy in this worl can be extended
to you. The sentence of the Court is—that
you be taken back to the place from'whencc
you came, and from thence. on the tenth fab
stunt, to the front of this 'ja'll, and there be
hanged by the neck till you are dead ;, and
may God have mercy on your soul !
“ As for you, Patrick Corooran, commonly
known as Para Rackhan. orPaddy the Richer,
inasmuch as you took no persona part in the
act of murder. the sentence of the Court is.—
thatyou, and the other persons present. (here
he named them) be trousported to parts be and
the sees for the term of your natural ives,
and, so far as you yourself are concerned. the
country will have a good riddance of you
also."

“Oh..thin, you puflin ould sooundrel..if I

only had you behind Corcknagooran, with a

on gel in your fist and anodher in mine—for

I’d give you fair play, if the cold dlousl was in

ou—as he is—ms be it’s I that wouldn‘t

ate the Rogue’s hgarch on your carcass l”

t t t t o t o a

t i 0 C

a C n o
Sixyears have elapsed. Itisan ev ' in
antumn.andthesunisnottsrfromt:npsne
of-his going downinthewest. Twosged

isnowdeeoleteandinmins. Ther
the houses, of the gardens. and of the.le

flower-pots before the doors is . not
of the houses are roofless, but- w 0%

 

ingtobefrom her hther—which the reader

 

l

I. w “Ah, my dearOgle." replied his friend, ‘you

i

l

: no newts: out the other five hundred,
l

 j. .Borqpenly butandsfor ustioooCQnomm.

need not be told was communicated to the

eveninhebited, and on whom! all“ the

men
have met in the vilth of Ballybruokou. which l

 

 

 

 

 

' year after year, silent and without either

V Brian," ten anwiWoun’t been here since

E

olation. The streets again are dust or mud, ac-
cording as the weather is wet or dry, the filthy
dung-hill has once more regained its
position in the street. and all the evidences of
desertion, want, and destitution tell a melan-
choly tale to the Irishman's heart. The suin-
mer evanings have passed over and over,

innocent mirth or healthful amusement.
No more does the cheerful dance or the rustic
song enliven the village green; nor the
bounding leap, nor the vigorous cast of the
stone produce their generous rivalry. No ; forthe
spoi or has been there, the spy has been there,
and the traitor, like a spirit of destruction, has
curred the contagion of crime among them.
But where are the people? Many of the old
have sunk under the calamities of crime, and

green, rank, rotting spirit of solitude and des- I that takes care of me, an’ supports mo, glory be]

 

gone, with broken hearts, down to the grave.
Man of the young have been consigned to the
rut ass hands of the Exocutioner, or are in
another hemisphere, dragging after them the_
contumelious fetter of the felon. There is,l
alas! now no more order here, no more indus— 1
try—but there is peace, for the peace of Bally- i
brecken is the solitude of the desert. -,

Yes—six years have elapsed, and two aged?
men have metinthis ruined village. One of,them
is remarkable for that keen and unsettled look
which tells of a conscience that burns in the
agony of unrepented crime; the other, whose
hair is white. bears on _ his furrow'ed counte-
Pance the toch simplicity of an unoflend-
mg lite,“ ove wed the mournful
expression of undescrv sorrow. These
maxed men pausoendloek uponeeoh
o I 5

"Brian M‘Mahon! ufim, are you the
man that was Brian M‘ ahon ?" exclaimed
he, whose eye reflected the light of inward bit-
terness. -

“ You have well said it, ” replied the other:
“I am the man that was Brian M‘Mahon; I
thinkI know your voice, for my sight isn't
what it used 'to be. If I don't mistake, you’re
Randal Cullen, that goes undher the name of
Antony Tracy.” ' '

“'Iam—an’IwishIwa§not.” _ 

, “Randal, I as: your pardon for the treatment
I gave you, when you thought,» save hen",
“0h, Iwas'no match for that fellow; but

that bitthsr day-.whnt happened #4160th I
noedn'tu. mil see/I on—jhonnhuy ot‘the

RUDY THE ROVER.

to His name.”

“ And you’re alone ?” .

' “ I amathey’re there—the three." he re lied.
pointing to the sky; “ when he sufl'ere ; the
poor mother wouldn’t have patience, so the heart
widin her soon brokowshe never riz her head
since that black day, an' her cry was—J My son.
my son.why are you taken from me ?’ and in less
than twelve months she followed him. Durin’
all that time we never seen or got an account of
Alley; but in about a year an‘ a-half, a pale
lookin‘ young woman, wid a sick infant in her
arms. came into the house to me, an’, on lookin'
at her, I saw it was our darlin’. She could hard—
ly spake from Weakness, an' when she fainted in ,
my arms, I was afeared it was death.

h“ ‘Oh, where—~whore is my mother,’ says
is e.

‘ ‘Alley achora,’ says , ‘ she wouldn’t stay
afther him.‘ In two or three days the baby
died, and that day month she laid her head
down, and I thought first it was sleep—an' so it
was the long sleep. I closed her e es myself,
an' when I looked at her an‘ thong t of what
she once was, an' what she was brought to. 1
said to myself. what would half the ople that
God gave life to do if there wasn t a betther
life than this? The priest that attended her
said she was more an angel than a woman—en'
indeed I think so. Howandiver, she followod
them, an’ I'm here still; but I won't be long
afther them, I hope! The few neighbors that's
left is kind to me, an’ lets me want for neither
bit nor sup. This property, mines an‘ an, is
now in the hands of c endeman named Sharpe,
who bought from the firgemn, Ogle, I believe
behise he was steered to comenoer it, ever
since he was fired at some yous ago. an' that's
all I canton you." I , '
S .i Doesn’t t‘ilzhere comedsometibmes along: wid

harps a emanmln ,Bow to new
borhood—Efliat's married to an  “

“ I-cen’t say; for lid-'9 Illa?"

“But what about your daughtu? dfl' Body
marry' him '1’" ‘  “‘ ‘

“ Ay—a false ,
about six weeks afore she came home
found out he had two whee-sens!

“ An' you don’t curse him 1"

.“Ohno—Imusm-ro‘Gon!’ 

“.That samescoundrelhad v lockihnn
he dessrv i: rigpliod Tansy ;b‘,‘m hiswiws
is dead. an’ e new Med ~
orname to—Lthere's no use in 
he added; if he hears that Milo" _ ' ’s

Igfor it was my
that-she

 

 

place.” , ,_ -
“Ihave home but myself now, bmrln’ Gpd,

son-in-law. it may only vex his heat more
itis already :” formicnmthat it

[ran 1:11.}

p
2 _‘

81

produce the same enact upon the lublknoéim.
piicity of M’Mahon‘s religion that it would up-
on his own heart. ' l .

That same Body, then,” said he, “ coaxed
his present wife almoat in spite of her—for itls
he that has the sweet tongue of his own; an’ now
himself an' other friend of hisma magistrate—a
is in a kind of partnership together, for the
one couldn‘t do widout the other. an’ both is
in high favorwid the Government, as I happen

to know, although it's not up to their wicked- I

nose. It appears that he sent them a plan—-
an' a very in uinious one—for carrying on the
Spy System in the counthry, an' that the Gov-
ernment has taken it up, an’ is now aotin’ upon
It." '

“Well,” replied M'Mahon, “if the Govern-
ment knew him as well as I do now, they
wouldn't take sich a man as that by the hand."

“Well, at all evints, if they‘re well of in a
worldly sense, nobody need envy them in any
other They’re leadin' the life of the damned,
—an' live as if they had the fire an' toments
of hell in their hearts,——as they have, no doubt.
They fight like devils,-the one callin’ theothor
rogue, villain, and murdherer. Sharpe's ‘
daugclliter's heartbroken, and not long for this
wor ,
deed it's no lie to say that the curse 0! God is
upon the other two at any rate. “You ro-
mimber Malone and Gubby, the spice?” he
added. 'v '

“ I do; but. oh, don't name them berth! you’
wish to drive the little raison I have away hon
mall .

“ Well. those two daicent men hasa snug sit—
nation aioh o' thim, in the y System too, on' I
haven't any doubt but they' aim their]! as
honestly now as they did here in "

We close by addingthatofl'l‘meyh intona-
tion was correct. ’lhe abomimbje pail—
ousplanof Motive Polka, 
occasion“ "the Government, whamm-
tained, but ultimately adopted; had. 
quonoo Is, that. 69 hr saute .smemw-
ed, Government are certainly 
ligationswnodythcm., . ., -. s ,; ~

Very soon aftertho‘interview just
Bryan 'M’Mahon  aver-ed 'by the
whose rehgi' 'on pm 8m
ofhissimpleandoonfiding" 
gratification.“ his and most-Wt? In

   
 

he died I sit
true but humble greatness, and was mi; ,
this ' -

those whomo‘hehsd lti‘vfed; sothat' _
oustamily peasant 'e'h’ovnoin'tw ‘
which neither the plot ‘ "

, of the. nor. "
 ‘

Win' ton decay that she hag—but in- _

 

 

 

BEADLE’S

 

DIME

 

32 Large 'l‘hrun-flolumn Pages.

1. A Hard Crowd ,; 0R, GENTLEMAN
SAE's SIsTicn. By Philip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil: OR, THE WINOEI)
WITCH OF THE SEA. By Col. Prentiss Ingmhum.

3. Kit Carson. Jr., THE CRACK SHOT 0F
TEE WEST. B ' Buckskin Sum.

4. The idnapper: on, THE GREAT
SHANGHAI OF TIIE NORTHWEST. By Philip S. Warne.

5. The I‘ire-I’iends: mt, H i-IRUULES. TUE
HUNCHBACK. By A. P. Morris.

6. Wildcat Bob, 'I‘IIE Boss BRCIsER ;
OR, THE BORDER. Bl/KJDIIOUNDS. B Ed. L. Wheeler.

7. Death-Notch, THE ESTROYER ; HR,
THE SPIRIT LAKE AVEcher By 011 Coomos.

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

10. Vidocq, THE FRENCH POLICE SPY.
Written by himself.

1 1. Midshipman Easy. By Cupt. Mar-

ryut.
12. The Death-Shot; 0R, TRACKED TO
DEATH. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
18. Pathawa. ; on, NICK WHIFF'LES, THE
OLD TRAPPER or THE onTIIWEST. By Robinson.
14. Thayendanegea. THE SCOUROE;
OR. THE WAR-EAGLE on THE MOHAWKB. Ned Buntline.
15. The Tiger-Slayer; 0R, EAGLE—
}IEAD To THE RESCUE. B Gustave Aimurd.
18. TheWhite izard: on, THE GREAT
PROPHET or ms SEMINoucs. By Ned Buntline.
17. Nightshade, THE ROEEER PRINCE
or HOUNsLow HEATH. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.
18. The Sea Bandit: OR, THE QUEEN
or m 131.11. B Ned Buntline.
19. Red , THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW.
By Gustave Aimnni.
20. The Bandit at Bay; OR, THE PI-
RATEs or ran Piumms. By Gustave Aimnrd.
21. The Trapper's De. hter; on,
THE OUTLAw‘s FATE. By Gustave A mm‘d.
22. Whitehw: or, NAmE on THE LAKE
Sloan  Dr. J. H. Robinson.
e Red Warrior: on, STELLA
Duoum‘s Oomcnn 10m By Ned Buntline.
24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai-
suthor of “W er.” etc.
2 . The Gol -Gui e: OR, STEELARE,
m momma. By Francis Johnson.
The Death- , 0
LA“ or run MouNTAIN. ‘By Francis
27. The ter-Detcctive: 0R. TEE
Gnu or NEW onx. By Albert W. Aiken.
28. Three-Pingered Jack. TIIE ROAD-
Anm or m Rooms. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
29. Tiger Dick. TIIE FARO KING; or,
m CAmnR's Cnnm. By Philip 5. Warm.
30. Gospel Geor- : or. FEM FRED,
Tn Ovruw. By J 1!. Badge . .
81. The New York ‘Shn. :' OR, TEE
FLASH our LIGHTNING. By Albert w. iken.

32. B’hoys of Yale: OR, THE SCRAI'Es
"A HARD Bu or COLLEGIANS. By John D. Vose.
33. Overland Kit. By A. W. Aiken.

34. Roch Mountain Rob. By Aiken.
85. Kentuck. the Sport. By Aiken.

38. Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.

87. rl. the Hunchback; OR, THE
Swonnwaormn SAN'I'EE ByDr. J. H. Robinson.

88. Velvet Hand : on, THE lBO‘N GRIP 0E
MUN 'mx. By Albert W. Aiken.

89. 'i ‘xe sian Sp ; OR. TEE BROTH-
ms on THE STARRY Canes. By , rick Whittaker.

40. The Long Haired 'Pards;' 0R,
TnETAn-I'Ans or-ITIE Puma. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

41. Gold Dan: 0R, Tm: WHITE SAVAGE
on THE GREAT SALT LAqu. Bv Albert W. Aiken.

42. The California Detective; OR,
Tar. Wm on NEW YORK. By Albert W. Aiken.

43. Dakota. Dan, TEE Rmss RANGER;
or. TEE BEE-HUNTERs' EansION. By 011 Coomes.

44. Old Dan Rackback. THE GREAT
ExtAmmuNIL By 011 Coomes.

45. Old Bull's Eye. THE LIGHTNING
Saar or TEE PLAINS. By Joseph E. Badger. JR.

46. Bowie-Knife THE LITTLE
Emu-En. on THE Now-mm By Oil Coomee.

47. Pacific Pete, TEE PRINCE or m
REVOLvn. By 103. E Badger. Jr.

48. Idaho Tom. THE YOUNG OUTLAW
on Barnum. Biff)“ 000mm.

49. Thech Demon: or, TEEQUIIENOII
m (Mum By Albert W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit, Tan Pinning Spam;
By Jon 2‘. Badger. Jr.

ohnaon.

LIBRARY.

 

 

 

 

51. Red Rob, THE Boy ROAD-AGENT.
By 011 Coomes.

52. Death Trailer. THE CHIEF or
Scuurs. By Hon. Wu). F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.)

53. Silver Sam; or. THE MYSTERY or
Dealwoon Cm. By Col. Della Sam.

54. Always on Hand; or. THE SPORTIVE
SPORT 0E Till-2 FOOT HILLS. By Philip S. Warne.

55. The Scalp Hunters. A ROMANCE or
TIIE PLAINR. By Cu. )t. Mayne Reid.

56. The In an Maze 8.: or, THE
' MAD MAN 01“ THE PLAINS. By 18ng W. Aiken.

57’. The Silent Hunter; or, THE SCOWL
HALL lllYSTERY. By Percy B. St. John.

58. Silver Knife; or, WICKLIFFE. TIIE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

59. The Man From Texas: or, THE
OUTLAW 0E ARKANSAS. By Albert. W. Aiken.

60. Wide Awake: ur. THE
THE BLACK HILLS. BV Frank Dumont.

61. Captain Seawaif. THE PEIVATEER.
By Ned Buntline.

82. Loyal Heart: or, THE TRAPPERS or
ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard.

63. The Win ed Whale. By Aiken.

64. Double- §ht. the Death Shot.
By Josenh E. Badger. r.

65. The Red Rajah; or, THE SCOURGE
on THE lNDIEs. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

68. The S ecter no. A TALE
or THE PACIFIC. . Captain Mayne Reid.

87. The Boy Jockey; or, HONEST?
mans CROOEEDNEss. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

68. The Fighting- per; or, KIT
CAB-SON To Tun REscun. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.

69. The Irish Captain: A TALE or
FONTENOY. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

7o. Hydrabad, TEE STRANGan or,
ALE-run, m Cum or me Conn. By Robinson.

71. Captain Cool-Blade, or, THE MAN
SnARx or TEE MIssInsIrrL By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

72. The Phantom Band. A BT03! or
N" You. Bunnie AND Helms. A. W. Aiken.

78. The wet the 1! Cross:
or. Tn: MAOIOIAN or Am. Dr. J. H. Robinson.

74. Captain of the Rifles. A ROMANCE
or m MEXICAN VALE“. By Captain Mayne Reid.

75. Genth George. or, PARLOR,
PRIEON. Snon AND 9mm. BhAlbert W. Aiken.

76. The Queen’s usketeer: or,
THERE, m Pmcnee PAuns'r. By George Albony.

77. The Fresh of Frisco; or, Tun
Bimmss or BUENAVENmRA. By Albert W. Aiken.

78. The Mysterious Spy; or, GOLDEN
PEA-rm vacmNEEn‘s DAUGHTER. By 

79. Joe Phenix. THE POLICE SPY. y
Albert W. Aiken. ,

80. A Man of Nerve: or, CALIBAN,
TEE DWAEE. Bvl’hilin B. Warns. '

81. The uman Tiger: or, A HEART
03' F111;, By Albert W. Aiken. ’

82. Iron Wrist. the Swordrnas'ter.
By Col. Thomas H. Monster-y.

83. Gold Bullet Sport: or, m KNIGHTS
or run OyEIuANn. B Bunnie BiiL

84. Hunted own; or,
WITCH. B AlbertW. Aiken.

85. e Cretan Rover: or. ZULstAu,
m BEAU-um By CoL Prentim Ingram.

86. The Big Hunter; or. THE QUEEN
or run Woone. By the author of ” Silent Hunter."

87. The Scarlet Captain: or, Tm:
Paxsom or mn- Townn. By Col. Delia Sam.

88. B George. TM! GIANT on THE
Gown; or FIVE OUTLAW Bmms. By Badger.

89. The Pirate ' 8 or. PRETTY
NELLY, TIIE QUEEN or m ISLE. By Col. lngrnham.

. ild Will, THE MAD RANOEEEO;

or, TEE TEnnmLs TEXAN. By Buckskin Sam.

91. The Winning Oar; or, TEE INN
xnmn‘n DAmmR. B, Albert W. Aiken.

92. Buffalo Bill. THE BucxstN KING;
By Major Dangerfield Bnrr.

93. Ca tain Dick Talbot, KING 05’
m Rom. y Albert W. Aiken. I

94. Freelance. TEE BUOCANEER; or. The
WAIE on TEE WAvn. By Col. Prentiss mgr-sham.

95. Azhort. 'I‘En AxEAN: or, THE SEORETs
or m DCCAL PALACE. Anthony P. Morris.

96. DoubleoDea : 0|”. THE SPY QUEEN
or Wrounm. By Cast. Wok Whittaker.

97. Bronze aek. 'I‘Im CALIFO
'i‘nonoUOEEREn. By A. W. Aiken.

98. The Rock Rider: ur. Tm: SPIRIT
. or m Emu. By Capt. 17'ka Whittaker.

“HOT OF

THE Warn

 

Each Nulnber Conlplete.

 

 

Prim- 10 (ls.

99. The Giant Rifleman; or. WILD
LIFE IN THE LUMBER REGIONs. By 011 Coomos. .
00. The French Spy: r r. Ti'E BRIDE
OE PARIS. A Story of the Commune. By A. l’. Morris.
101. The an from New York: or,
'I‘IIE ROMANCE or A RICH YOUNG WOMAN. By Albert
W. Aiken. '
102. The Masked Band: or, TIIL‘ MAN
WITHOUT A NAME. Gear e L. Aiken.
103. Merle, t e utinecr; or. THE
BRAND on THE RED ANCHOR. By Col. P. lugmhnm.
104. Montezuma. the Merciless; or,
Tim EAGLE AND THE SERPENT. By (‘01. l’. lngrnhnm.
105. Dan Brown of“: Denver. THE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN DETECTIVE. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.
106. Shamus O’Brien, TL’F liOULD BUY
01“ GLINGAL; or, IRXEH HEARTS AND IRISH HOMEB.
By Colonel Della Sara.
107. Richard Talbot cf Cinnabar;
or, Tm: BROTHERS 01" THE RED HAND. BI‘ A.W. Aiken.
108. The Duke of Diamonds: or, ’1 EE;
FLOWER 0E CALCU'I'TA. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
109. Captain Kyd, 'i Hr KING OF THE

BLACK FLAG. By Colonel Prentiss lngmhnm.

110. The Silent Rifleman. A Tale of

the Texan Plains. By Henry W. Herbert.
1. The Sun: gler Captain; or, THE:

Smnn's Conan. By ed Buntline.

112. Joe Phenix, PRIVATE DETECTIVE;
or, TEE lawn: on THE SKELETON KErs. By Aiken.

113. The Sea Slip or; or, THE AMA-
nxm FREEDOO'i'Bls. By ,Pro .J. H.1ngrshnm.

114. The Gentleman from Pike: or,
TEE 03051- or TEE CANYON. Philip S. Warne.

1 16. The Severed end; or, TEE:
Sncnn'r on CW COUCV. By Capt. Fred.Whitta.ker.

116. Black Plume, THE DEVIL or TEE
SEA; or, TEE SoncERnss or Hub-GATE. By Colonel

Prentiss Ixfimham.

1 1 7. ashinfi Dandy, TEE HOTSP'UR or
TEE qus- or, TEE oNY Pam‘s 8mm: Pm.
By Msgir Dmgeriield Burr. .

11 The Burglar Captain; or, Tn:
FMSIAE. Bme .J. H. Inst-shun.

119. Alabama Joe: or, TEE YAzoo
MAN-Human. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

120. The Texan Spy 3 or, TEE PRAIRIE
Gums. By Newton M. Curtis. .

121. TheSea CILdet: or, Tin ROVBB.
P.1ngruhem ‘

or m RIOOLn-rs. By Col. .
122. Saul Sabberday. Tn

IDIOT SPY;
or, LUIIONA, m amour. By Ned Buntiine. I

128. Alapaha. the naw (1. Tim
Bureau or m Bonn. “Johnson.

124. Am. the Ava or: or,
Tun Deal or m Dinar-Roma. By he s Johnson"

125. The Blacksmith Outlaw: Orr
Mann! ENGLAND. By Harrison Air-worth. '

126. The Demon Duelist: or. TEE:
LEAGUE or Grim. By Colonel Thee. H. Biometry.

127. Sol Scott. TEE MABm MINER: or.
DAN Brown's Dorm: By Jeseph 1i. Badger.

128. The Chevalier Corsair; or. TEE:
HERITAGE or HATED. By the author of “ Merle.
the Mutineer.“

129. Mississippi Mose; or, A STRONG
MAN's 8mm By dwnrd Willett.

180. Cuggain Volcano; or, THE MAN
or THE RED owns. By Albert W. Aiken.

131. Buckskin Sam.THETEXAN TRAILER;
onm BANm-rs or run Buvo. By Col. Prentiss
Ingrahsm.

182. None, King ofthe Tralafil: 0",
TEE ROMAN! GIRL‘s VENOEANOE. By Cop Fred.
Whittaker.

133. Body. the Rover; or. THE BID-
BONMAN or 1mm. By William Carleton.

134. Darkie Dan. Tn BLAcx NM;
or. TEE KING or DIAxom By COL 1’. in am.

Reedy y 18th..

135. The Bush Ranger 3 or, THE
HALF-BIKE!) BRIGADE. By FrmcisJohneon.

Reedy May 25th.

136. The Outlaw-Hunter: or. RED
JOIN, m Bonn Rum”. By menaon.

Junelsr.
Awaitsme

“magma tgrimemldbrm-y is {org-€10 All
5 one neon percopvum'sen y on
receipt of l.tflivolve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMER
Publishers. 9% William Btmt. New York.