9 §\ \ “g . ' x 1;?" 2 \W .n ENTERED AT THE POST OFFICE AT NEW YORK. N. Y., AT SECOND CLASS MAIL RATES. ‘70] Published Every dB’eadZe (fa fldanzs, @zzbZz‘shers, Wedn9'dsy' 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., May 14, 1884. Ten Cents a. Copy. $5.00 a Year No.290 THE LOST UORVETTE: or, Blakeley’s Last Cruise. BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF “NEMO. KINg, OF THE TRAMPS," “RED RtDIGER," “THE RUSSIAN SPY.” “THE RED RAJAH.” “TEE IRISH CAPTAIN,” “THE MAN IN RED,” “ DEATu‘s HEAD CUIRASSIERS,” “PHANTOM KNIGHTS,” ETC., ETC. , ____'.- ,-v 1111 on)! “REMEMBER THE GUERRIERE! DOWN WITH THE BRITISH!" 9. The Lost Corvette. The Lost Corvette; on, . BLAKELEY’S LAST caursn. A True Story of an Irish-American Sailor in 1814. BY CAPT. FRED’K WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF “THE THREE FRIGATES,” “THE savor JANE, PRIVATEER.” “THE roo- nnvms,” “ ran FLYING DUTCH. ~ HAN or 1880,” £10., arc. .:,; . CHAPTER I. '_ l ‘- 7,: m- FAUGH-A'BALLAGH. 1 ZAJI'EARING northwest gale was driving the " from the broad Atlantic into the e es of ‘v atch endeck of the fishing‘lugger augh- , as she dashed through the waves. Such a gale, on the coast of Europe, is a very diflerent thing from the same gale on the Amer- ican coast. Here, we are used to associate the Amidea of a “ northwester " with a clear sky and a ‘ western prairies and blows off-s a cold, that comes howling from the ore all the time: while, on the other side of the Atlantic, the ver reverse is the case. The augh-a—Ballagh was covered with the driving mists from the Gulf Stream, that shows its influence in warminsgkthe waters on the west coast of ireland. The y was covared with a mass of ragged gray clouds, all torn and dirty looking, with little light, as they went scuddin across the face of the heavens, like frightened sheep before a ravening wolf. The lugger was of that kind among fishing- tn‘,‘,in pulse-nice of a deck, with quarters for , She had two masts, that carried large lug-sails; while a little spar, that rejoiced in e name of the “ jigger,” supported over the extreme atom a little sail of its own, only useful when the vessel tacked. Her watch on deck was confined to the y- headed owner. Captain Matthew Blake. 0 Gal- wny; while Tim Bodkin, his first mate and factotum in general, was steering. and the rest of the crew, consisting of Tedd French, Pat Lynch, Florence McCarty and im Morrissey, were belOW, ready to come on deck whenever their services were wanted, but not particularly anxious to face the cold, damp ga e that had driven Blake and Bodkin to their pea-jackets, oilskinn and “sou’westers.” from under which they sullenly contemplated the send as it drove across the heavens, while they conversed to- gether in low tones. “ And it’s goin‘ to be a wild night, Tim," said Blake sententiously, as he dashed the spray from is eyes with the sleeve of his coat. Tim only nodded, as he ave the tiller a push 1“ a to windward; for the litt e lugger “carried a an B'lahnianheude that Blake excl med: . the salt say to-meet uni _ ,tirely. And there isn’t a revenue cutter hike; t weather-helm,” as it is called, and needed con- stant watch fulness. .."And it‘s lucky that the boat’s got lenty of a ,” the captain continued. “ be boys m“ sint us at a better time, I’m thinkin’, T .n _ _ an: shifted the helm again, and replied, t Seasoned: .won’t.wait Mat, and why should we wait, a ther‘i It’s the time fur the boys to strike, wh n the ould barridan's at her waist. An’ they say that, what wid Honey and v the Yenkeenhshe’s clane at her wit’e ind fur ‘ moneéaad min.” ‘ Kn hew Blake laughed rather bitterly, as be I! 2 ivil'a man need she want, while ould Ire- .to the fore. It’s never the time I saw I in trouble she didn’t have the Irish to M her. And,don’t I mind the da 3 of Int? Surefit was the irish kills the Irilli; t, . _. . no shook his he vindictiver toward the east, w rethe’ehoreeot England lay, out of sight, , ._ d the curtain of mist and added: '. thentbeynret y, bad-luck to ’em! the army that’s b’atin’ Bonny and Irishman are in ivery ridgmiht ' that‘s in the service: and what’s the use of our comin’ anther-e, to find a Yankee ship, that no man news anythin’ about, ’ce t that she’s comi to harry the English , till the gite tuk. like the last." The 1 get at this point shoved her nose into the mid eof a wave that came curling over the how and nhi such a quantity of water “'Tie no use, Tim. The hooker was niver ' . meant to go to say in weather like this, and we . ~ ma aswell turn back.” in Bodkin shook himself from the water that had dashed over him, and said to his chief: “ We‘ll bear up, av ye say the word, ca tain: but what’ll the boys say, av we come bee. and niver Goethe nhip that’s come all the way aerate We’ll be disgraced in- sect, and the logger can stand more than - tin times over.” ~ See the likes of that, now! " will be so, till the Saeeemh’s gone. Matthew Blake said nothing more; but set his face to the southwest, and peered through the mist in silence for some minutes. At last he said, slowly: “And it ain’t a Blake as will turn his back whin the boys want him to go to a place, Tim; but what are we goin' to do, in the world, av she don’t come at all? We can’t go huntin’ over the ocean fur her, like a bound after a fox. Av she don‘t come in sight in half an hour, I’m thinkin’ we’d better go back.” Tim made no answer but to throw the bows of the lugger away from another wave that threatened a repetition of the last ducking, and the Fauglra-Ba lagh dashed on like a anther (for she was of that sharp and gracefu build, that reminded the beholder of a panther). Be- fore the little craft could go another mile in the gale, the captain espied, through the driving mists, the dim outlines of a ship ahead, and cried to Tim, in a tone of great relief: “And ther’s the cr’ater at last! Did ye iver And she has come, whin I thought it was all a trick.” Sure enough, a sliigeit was, ahead of them; and she seemed to a swift one. She was “ close-hauled on the port tack ?’——that is to say, had the wind on her ‘ port ” or left side, at an acute angle to her bows, so as to make her pro< gress through the waves by an oblique advance, and was stripped to her topsoils and courses, her long, na ed spars standing out above the swelling canvas below, with a. graceful effect. She came driving down on the little lugger, as if she, also, was bent on a meeting, and, before she had been in sight for twenty minutes was abenm of the fishing-croft, and had backed her maintopsail, becoming stationary, to wind- ward of the lugger, which thus found itself in comparatively calm water, under the lee of the great hull of the ship. Then it became a parent that the stranger was a ship-of-war. rem the uniforms of men, who looke over her sides, and a hail came down to Matthew Blake: “Lug er ahoy! Is that the Fangh-a-Ballagh ?" Capta n Matthew Blake [looked up at the towering bulk alongside him. his face beaming with an expression very different to that which it had worn for the last hour, as he shouted out: “And is it yerself, Master Jack? And it’sa proud day that sees ye here again, wid a good shilp under ye." he answer seemed to be all that was required; for he heard some one else shout, on the ship: “ Stand by to heave a rope to the lugger. It’s all right." Then the great ship came drifting down on the little lugger, 0 close that there was danger that they might collide, and a rope came flying throu h the air to the decks of the Faugh-n- Ballag which was neatly caught by B ake, who 0 ed down the fore-hatch to his crew to “come out and help,” in the democratic style that prevails on, fishing-boats. They came tumb- ling up to his assistance, with more promptitude than might have been expected, and, in a short time after, the lugger was being towed at the end of a long hawser, with her ‘sails down, while the large shi was standin off to sea again, and Captain lake was ma ing his pro- parations to go aboard her, by no means an may task in such am as was running. at the fishermen were used to gomg out in just such Seas and before long the skipper of the Fan h-a-liall stood on the deck of the ship, sha in han with a young man, whom he address as“Master Jack,” evidently full of joy at the meeting. CHAPTER II. it A s r r: a J A c x . Tan face of the young man who was ehakin hands with Matfizw Blake was handsome, an intelligent, the unmistakable stanip of waning?“ ' oh how'i ii“ i h t s gra eyes, on as ea, wereo that kind which the Celti: hraee it-are “laid hr wid a‘dirty flu on”, prominent brow sq jaw, and rat or high cheekcbones, together hair that fell on either of his face, pro- claimed him an Iriahmnn'hy race. whatever the place of his birth. .He wore. the uniform of the British navy, as did the rest on deck, gfd, from the way in which they gave way orehim he wan evi- dently the chief in command in’ the ship. The captain of the lugger kept shaking hands with him, an if he did not know when to stop, re ating all the time: , ‘And it’s moself that‘s proud to see ye Master Jack, after all these years, wid a ship of yer own. And what’s her name, Bur?" Matter Jack smiled, as he answered: ' “And it’s a eno h name for her, Mat.- And what woul ye thin we should call her?” Mat, thought a moment and replied soberly: “ And sure I c’u’dn’t say, r Jack. Is it the Scourge of England, or the Terror of the ‘3': lb gore she’s a party ship, and calls like a c e L “ What in it that stings hard, and nobody can catch it, Matt” asked the young commander, with the name smile. the clusterin curls of dark soft- :2 Mat scratched his head and finally said: “And it’s meeelf don’t know, Master Jack, unless it’s a bay or a wasp. W’u’d ye call her the Bay?” Master Jack laughed outright, while subdued smiles a peered on the faces of more than one of the o cers around, who were amused at the simplicity of the fisherman. “ No,” replied the young commander. “ We don’t call her the Bee, for :bOIiey is not in our line. It is our business to sting and we do it with all our might, Mat. This is the Wasp, and we are going to show the proud Sassenach that Ireland can sting, from a long way 011'. It is not because they have killed, starved,and dis- graced us for centuries, that we are going to give it up so easily. They killed my father, and the son has come to get his revenge. And leer gomg to have it, Mat; he is going to have 1 The eyes of the young man flashed fire as he spoke, and there was more than one face. among those around him that expressed the same eelings of anger and longing for revenge, mspla ed on that of the commander. As or Mat Blake, he seized the hand of the. young chief again, and wrung it hard as he ejaculated: “And it’s niver a Blake that’ll go back on a Blake, yer honor. It was the Blake of Castle Blake, was the life of ’Ninetycight, and it’s his own son that’s comin’ back to his own place to make it hot for the Sassenachs.” Then “Master Jack,” as he had been called by the fisherman, turned to the officers around him. and said: “ Gentlemen, this is m cousin, Blake of Galway, and he {a important intelli ence from the enemy. r. Winthrop will ta e charge of the deck,vwhile I am down in the cabin. If you see a sail, call me at once, for anything in these seas is sure to be a foe.” With a slight gesture of dismissal he turned away, and went into the cabin. while the boat’s crew, that had brought Mat to the side of the ship, were taken to the forecastle of the Wasp (‘18 the captain had declared her name to be) and entertained by the sailors as if they were wel- come and long expected visitors. In the cabin of the Wasp, meanwhile, the scene was ver different, as the young captain, as soon as be ad entered the room, the door of which was guarded by a sentry, said to the sol- dier: . “Don‘t disturb me, unless it is a sail. Noth- ing else, mind.” The sentr , who wore the red coat of the Bl‘lllsll marines, saluted by slapping his piece, as he answered stifliy: “ Very good, sir.” ' Then Master Jack and Matthew Blake Went into the cabin, and the first thing that the young man did was to thr0w his arms around the neck of the old fisherman, and say, in a broken tone, as if struggling with some power- ful emotion: .“ Mat, Matrwhat a difference from the last time we met. ’ The old fisherman drew his sleeve across his eyes with a hast motion, as be answered: " ben’t be thin 11’ of it, Master Jack. Sure the Blake of Castle Blake c’u’dn’t be disgraced by any dirty thief of an Englishman, that iver wore a red coat. "Tie the name of-a hero he , and what matter is it how a man dies, as Ong as he gets thatl. The thing to ask now, is, what does yer honor want of me, and why did ye send for me?” The youngkcaptaln drew closer to the old fish- erman, to as in bi; turn: ‘ Does any One now me do u k Mat- thew?” ' “3m ’ “Barre wan of thim, yer honor. The ’ thhlk that ye wint dead, like the net. and “the Blakes of Castle Blake are all Av I hadn’t known that ye were eboom’u’dn’t have known ye nayther.” ' ‘ The young man 1““ faintly II he listened to the words, for they seemed to rouse in him all sorts of mm not entirely pleasant, and he answered: ~’, “Ay, ay, MI don’t doubt l’m changed. I’ve'had 01103153“) chum me. God known. Nureed with hate of Enlzlaud in m vary blood, Loreen I help but fight her, an angel there lea breath in my body. But i any et- Matthew Tell me the news fromhome. at.~ l llama how they all are, and what. are the W.Mn ng?” . .' ' tsmsmhsdrd'y- x ‘ an em 0 nee er or, no one Boney hates the alike in spill; and, from what they tell me, he’s on his last by, that same Bouey. It’s all the time they do be talking at home of the great victories. and the Connaught Rangers. an givin’ us a fine peiaver, ani tut- tering us all up. And sure, . h th a poor cr’ateis knOw, at the bottom of their lowla, that . it’s all blamey: they like it all the name,- and. they w’u’dn’t rise fur King Brian Born himeelt No, no, Master Jack, I w’u’dn’t like to be, givin‘ ye hopes that wnda‘t be made sartaintiee, and that’s what’s the matter. Ye can’t depind ‘ ., on thenhoye to rise, till they,eee.n r c 3 come to give us ' l f! f".qulw:r;wc ; ,o .. A ,. _ V .v ‘51; ( . The Lost Corvette. 3 1, Master Jack listened to his friend thought- full , and asked: “ ut suppose that they saw a good chance. Suppose that they saw an army of Americans, landed on the coast, and an American fleet on the seas, to support it, wouldn’t they rise then 3” Mat leaned forward, with an earnest look on his face, as he asked: “An’ is it likely that we’ll have anything of the sort, Master J ack? An’ are they comin’?" “ They may, if we are careful and play our cards well. But it would not do to send an army across the sens, unless we are quite sure that it would be helped by another here," The honest face of the fisherman flushed, as he said: “ An’ it’s meself that thinks, Master Jack, that av ye wereto land an arm in Ireland, and ask the people to rise, they‘d o it, av they saw a ghost of a chance. But whin we remem- ber ’Ninety-eigh t, and the hangin’s and murders, it makes t e best of us think twice, before we lift a hand ag’in’ the Government, where the spies can see US. It’s a hard thing, Master Jack, avick, to come home some fine mornin’ and find the house, that ye lift so snug at bed- time, all a pile of ashes, and the wife and childer sittin’ by the roadside, cryin’ wid the cold and hunger. Ye ware too young, whin ye was taken otf, Master Jack, to remimber all that, but I’m not that young, or that old, but I mind it well. No, sir, ye can’t depind on the boys till the battle’s won; so don’t build any hopes on it, Master Jack.” 1 liilaster Jack listened, and nodded thought- u y. “ ’Tis well, Mat. We’re not likely to see it, unless my mission is much more successful than I have any means of anticipating. at present. Our country is but a little thing yet, and it will have to w a good deal, before it can tackle the Brit sh lion, in a square fight. But there isone thing we can do, and we have done it, for some time, with more or less success: that is, to fight his ships on an equality. and to whip them, ship to ship. Now tell me, Mat, what men—of-war have you seen, around Galway, this summer?” The fisherman reckoned over his fingers. “ There’s the Reindeer first, ver honor. She's a party brig as iver was sailed and it’s lord somebody is the captain. And what was the thatname, to be sure! It was something about Brading, yer honor, I’m thinking.” “ About what, Mat!" “ About good bradin and purlitenese, yer honor,” res nded the tie erman, scratching his head. “ hat d’ye call it—oh. ay, I mind now—it’s Manners, Lord Jack Manners, they call him. That’s the first, sur, and then there 3 the Avon and the Pelican, and a host of other ships and cutters, that goes prowlin’ about, for all the world like cats in the _hack yards, hunt- in’n each other.” - “ here was, the Reindeer, when you last saw her?” asked Master Jack, sharply, with a look .in his eyes as if he knew the name. “ 0f! Galway, yer honor, where she had put in for fresh mate, for the officers. She wint away before we did, and I h‘ard that she was to cruise in the chops of the channel, lookin’ fur Yankee ships.” Master Jack nodded thoughtfully. “ Did you hear any talk of whether they sus- $239 that this ship, or any other, was coming, “ Sorra a word, or honor; and not a wan of thim thinks thati ’e the Blake of Castle Blake, that’s comin’ to wake ’em up. I’ll swear to that. And av I was yer honor, it’a into the hay I’d $0. 88 bonld I! and no one ’u’d know ye from Adam." Master Jack started slightly, as he heard the advice, and he asked: - “ Was there any ship-of-war in the bay, when you left it, Mat!" “Divil a wan. yer honor.” “And do you think I could see my grand- father, if I got into the house safely?” asked the young man, with a nervous tremor that he did not seek to conceal. Mat seemed to be thinking deeply over the question. 8' if he had expected it, but was an- willm to answer it. it was some time before he sci myths, and when he did, it was with an air of doubt and hesitation, in marked con- trast with his usual blnfl demeanor. He shifted about on his chair likewiu, an be answered: “Master Jack, I'll not deny that the ould gintieman asked me to 81: ye to come in, av it was onl fur a momen that he might see ye wan fore he died, and that was the mes- sage, was wantin’ to [live yo. But sure, what does it matter what the poor cr'ater want. now! It’s not long he is for this world, and whinv he dies, he won’t be any better off, for havin’seen ve. It‘s a mighty quare lace fur ye to 0. Master Jack. and that’s w l. the r’ason didn’t tell ye, before. . Ye’ll ban to take yer life in yer hand, av ye «has in , Ireland, now. Sure the pie is a l crasv wid the news of Boney, and victories. It’s not ,qitmedtohin’mnety-eight, whinthe ho a or .ready'fur‘fnn, all the days in thew . to Mlovecrmoney. Now the war’s taken the best of them, and what’s left won’t fight.” Master Jack rose from the seat, from which he had been questioning the fisherman, and said in a resolute wav: “ Sink or swim, I‘m going to try it, Mat. When the head of the house calls me, it is my duty to obey; and, if I take my life in my hand, it is no more than I have done, many a time before, for less cause. I will go and see mKIgrandfather." at seemed to be half—gratified and half- afraid of the result; for he said: “ Don’t be resky, Master Jack. Sure it isn‘t a matter of life and death to see him, yet awhile. But av ye feel ye must, thin I’ll tell ye what ye do. Come aboord the Faugh-a-Ballagh, and we’ll go into the boy, as n’ate as anything; and sorta a bit the wiser will any of the gaugers be, when they see ye, for we’ll l’ave Tim Bod- kin here, and ye can be Tim yerself.” Master J nck only shook his head as‘he said: “ I have a better plan than that, Mat. I shall take the Wasp in, with all sail set, and all I want is a signal that there is no man-of-war in the bay.” ” And sure that’s ’asy enough,” responded Mat. “I’ll take the boat, forninst ye, into the bay; and, av I foind that there’s anything there that might hurt ye, I’ll light the ould beacon that hasn’t been ht sence ’Ninety-eight. How’ll that do, yer honor?” ” Famously, Mat,” was the reply in a tone of voice that showed the satisfaction of Master Jack. “ If I can only get a chance to play half the mischief that was played here by Paul Jones, thirty-five years ago, I shall be satisfied. Twould be a proud day, when I put my name alongside his, Mat." Mat crossed himself piously as he ejaculated: “The saints have ye in their keeping, Master Jack. Ye’ll do it yet, I believe. And after all, he was not a r’ale Blake, of Castle Blake.” CHAPTER III. CASTLE BLAKE. AWAY from the shores of the Bay of Galway in the midst of the moors, stood a urge pile 0 buildings, more than half ruinous. Around it stretched the wilds of Connemara, bare plains, where the salt wind, from the Sea, moaned across the turf, and the only live thing seen was an occasional plover, ora gull which had wandered in from the coast, and was hunting for something to eat, which it found not. In the midst of these wild moors, the pile of building, of which we have spoken, had a cheer- ing eflect, as the only object of interest in the whole landscape. Around it flourished trees, when there Were no trees anywhere else; and the lowing of cattle, with the occasional neigh of ahorse, f under the shelter of the out- houses that surrounded it, showed the presence of animals, as well as human beings, at Castle Blake. To one who came close to it, there was an air of desolation and mourning about the whole place, in good keeping with the wild and melancholy lan see around the house. Once it had been incl with a wall; but the greater part of this had fallen, and there Were traces, in places, that this wall had been battered down by vio- lence, in some former time; for more than one old rusty cannon-ball, half hidden in the piles of rubbish in the court, showed where Crom- well’s men had held rio in the old days. ' At the remains of the o d gateway stood an old man, who had the appearance of being a rt of the ruin, so worn and ray was be, an be was peering under his cosed hands over the moors at the setting sun, when he uttered a low cry and exclaimed: “ And they’re comin’ at last.” He had seen, at a distance from the house, a man on horseback, with a boy running in front of the horse, that told of a traveler and his “ gossoon,” who had crossed the bogs from Gal~ way. to visit Castle Blake. Old Barns O’Toole had been huntsman for the castle in he days he.ore the rebellion, when the master of that once imposing edifice had “kept the bounds,” and he had ever after re- tained the old red coat and oorduroys that mark- ed his once in the days when horses were as entint in the stables of Castle Blake II in the of an Arab encampment. Barneywaa lad when he saw a horse coming to the castle, rit was the pleasure of hielife to attend to and he did not mind the lack of dignity th t it implied in him for the huntsman to he 0 ciating as hustler. The stranger who rode in to the dam of the castle was apparently a so dier for be had the liar air of stifl authorit habitual on the aces of those who are need 0 iording it over their fellows, and he wore a black stack. in those days held sacred to the military profession. He was mounted on a hack-horas from one of the town stables, and followed b little Terence McCoy. who had trotted all t e we from the town of Gnlway that morning, over he hogs of Connemara, at the rate of ten miles an hour,- “ Without , ing a hair.” in {ockey ase. T strn gen-ode upand t rewrh shridie to Terence, wh le he said to old . “I: the Blake at home today, , dyi" . t -. 1"“ . . ., HIM-L Barney eyed him all over. in a singular, fur— tiVe way, for the other had the look of a Briton, and Barney hated an Englishman as he hated )OlSOD. The old man looked as sour as he possi~ ly could, as he replied: “ And he is, sir; but. the doctor says that his honor must not be disturbed by anybody, for he’s very sick, sir. Av ye’ll give yer card, sir, ye can see Father Maginnes, sir, and that same’s his honor’s confessor.” The traveler twitched his face in a curious way. Barney could see, now that he looked at him closer, that he Was about forty, and that he wore spectacles, though he had such a military air. “ I don’t want to see Father Tom,” be absent- ly answered, as if he were thinking of some~ thing else altogether. “ I want to see the Blake himself.” “ Then yer honor’ll have to wait,” said Bar— ney, coldly, getting in the way of the traveler as he dismounted from his horse and advanced to open the door of the inner house, unbidden— a thing which was to Barney’s eyes as near high treason as anything could be done by human being. “ It’s the orders of the doctor that no one’s to see him till he comes again. And I’ll have to send for Father Tom to see ye. ,Av it‘s business, his riverence will attend to it. ' The traveler turned to the obstinate old man and said to him in a more coaxing tone: “ Come, come, old man; I want to see the Blake. If he knew I was here he would be half crazy to see me. Let me in now, and here is a guinea for your pains.” Barney’s eyes flashed as he saw the bright gold which t e stranger showed him, for the temptation 'wasa rent one. The old man had not seen a guinea or ever so long, and the sight dazzled him. Nevertheless, he turned his head resolutely away from the sight and said, in the same obstinate way as before: “ Ye can’tsee him, sir, and that’s flat. He don’t want tosee any of the cursed Sarsenachs that killed his son and ruined Castle Blake. I’ll go call Father Tom, av ye pl’ase: but ye don’t sing" another step that way. D’ye hear that, r The stranger, who was a tall, powerfully- built man, who looked as if he could have pitched the huntsman over the roof of the barn with ease, nevertheless paused at the resolute at- titude of the plucky little man, and said, in a manner that betokened amusement: “ Why, confound it, Barney, on don’t 1! pearto remember me at all, an you are t 0 same old Barney as ever. Let me in, and don’t make an ass of ourself any more. You’ll be sorry for it, if I ave to knock you down, you know, you old sinner.” In a moment the peppery old man had jum ed back to the lodge from which he had in , and confronted the other with a formidable cudgel of the real Irish blackthorn, in his hand, with which he began to dance back and forth in front. of the stranger, singing, in a low, meandering sort of tone: “ ‘ With that he gave his opponent astroke upon the nose. From which the gore, in streams of red, most beautifull flows: Aha, be c es, my gallant boy, with you that don‘t agree! Take that. hold Cooper. to remimber brave old Donneliy-y-y—y.’ " There was something so ludicrous in the abso- lutely serene coura e of the little old huntsman, as he flourished his s illalah clone to the nose of a man big enough to eat him up, that the stran- ger, who for a moment had rowned, as if he were angry, threw off his ill-humor and burst out laughing loudl , in the midst of which he was surprised by t e voice of some one behind him. saying gravely: “ Barney O’Toole, aren’t e ashamed am» self to be goin’ on, at your time of life, like 1 Put down yer stick. and hould yer whist.” Barney and'the stranger turned instinctively at the words and saw, by the old door of the principal building that answered to the hall. a venerable man of ecclesiastical aspect, who had on the ion casseek of the priest then in com- mon use over Europe, and was scanning the stranger closely through his spectacles. Barney seemed to be a little ashamed to have been on ht, at his time of life. shakin a stick aml sin, ng the ballad of “Con 1' an Donnel~ ly.”'ao he quietly ut the form: able blackthom b ‘hind him, and a ipped away, with the remark to the stranger: “ And that’s Father Tom, sir." - The stranger advanced to meet the ecclesias- tic, who. on his part, greeted him with a smile, as he said: ,“ You are welcome to Castle Blake, air; what is left of it. You will ease to walk in, and we will no what we can 0 for ye. We can olfer ye gem. shooting: but the fox-hounds are all gone, air; and it’s little the sheriff left us. whin he put in the last distress. Come in, air; ~ come in." Father Tom Martians-I led the way into a large and dilapidated hall. where the stains oh the walls showed that the rain found frequent admlmion :took him into a room,whereaiire -. V. of black bog-oak was burning, in a fireplace that would havo made the mouth of an aesthete of the present day water, for longing of its quaint picturesqueness, and planted him arge chair, by.a table, by the side of a large jug, that was emitting a strong odor of whisky and water, with a little sugar, the whole at a boiling heat, before he addressed a single ques- tion to him. Even then, be poured out a brimming tumbler of the punch, and set it before his guest, before he agike. . “ our very good health, sir, and now may I / eyes, as if something amused him ' 'whcther he be alive or dead?” " have been sent to look for him. ask to what the castle is indebted for the pleas- ure of this visit?” The stranger favored him with a scrutinizing glance, before he answered, which he did with great deliberation, and a singular lo