'For the tendher mercy, Micky Lavery, make me sinsible, and don't disthract me- -is the boy marri'd?'

'Yis, I tell you.'

'To Jack Dwyer's daughter?'

'Yis.'

'And gev him a fort'n'?'

'Gev him half his property, I tell you, and he'll have all when the owld man's dead.'

'Oh, more power to you, Andy!' cried his mother in delight; it's you that is the boy, and the best child that ever was ! Half his property, you tell me, Misther Lavery,' added she, getting distant and polite the moment she found herself mother to a rich man, and curtailing her familiarity with a poor one like Lavery.

'Yis, ma'am,' said Lavery, touching his hat, 'and the whole of it when the owld man dies.'

'Then, indeed, I wish him a happy relase!' said Mrs. Rooney, piously, 'not that I owe the man spite-but sure he'd be no loss-and it's a good wish to any one, sure, to wish them in heaven. Good mornin', Misther Lavery,' said Mrs. Rooney, with a patronising smile, and 'going the road with a dignified air.'

Mick Lavery looked after her with mingled wonder and indignation. 'Bad luck to you, you owld sthrap!' he muttered between his teeth. 'How consaited you are, all of a sudden— by Jakers, I'm sorry I towld you-cock you up, indeed-put a beggar on horseback to be sure-humph!—the divil cut the tongue out o' me, if ever I give any one good news again—I've a mind to turn back and tell Tim Doolin his horse is in the pound.'

Mrs. Rooney continued her dignified pace as long as she was within sight of Lavery, but the moment an angle of the road screened her from his observation, off she set, running as hard as she could, to embrace her darling Andy, and realise, with her own eyes and ears, all the good news she had heard. She puffed out by the way many set phrases about the goodness of Providence, and arranged, at the same time, sundry fine speeches to make to the bride; so that the old lady's piety and flattery ran a strange couple together along with herself; while mixed up with her prayers and her blarney were certain speculations of how long Jack Dwyer could possibly live, and how much he would have to leave.

It was in this frame of mind she reached the hill which commanded a view of the three-cornered field and the snug cottage; and down she rushed to embrace her darling Andy and his gentle bride. Puffing and blowing like a porpoise, bang she went into the cottage, and Matty being the first person she met, she flung herself upon her, and covered her with embraces and blessings.

Matty, being taken by surprise, was some time before she could shake off the old beldame's hateful caresses, but at last, getting free and tucking up her hair, which her imaginary mother-in-law had clawed about her ears, she exclaimed, in no very gentle tones-

'Arrah, good woman, who axed for your company-who are you at all?'

'Your mother-in-law, jewel!' cried the widow Rooney, making another open-armed rush at her beloved daughter-inlaw, who received the widow's protruding mouth on her clenched fist, instead of her lips; and the old woman's nose coming in for a share of Matty's knuckles, a ruby stream spurted forth, while all the colours of the rainbow danced before Mrs. Rooney's eyes as she reeled backwards on the floor.

'Take that, you owld faggot!' cried Matty, as she shook Mrs. Rooney's tributary claret from the knuckles which had so scientifically tapped it, and wiped her hand in her apron.

The old woman roared 'millia murther' on the floor, and snuffled out a deprecatory question, if that was the proper way to be received in her son's house.'

'Your son's house, indeed!' cried Matty. 'Get out o' the place, you stack o' rags.'

'O Andy! Andy!' cried the mother, gathering herself up. 'Oh that's it, is it!' cried Matty; 'so it's Andy you want?'

'To be sure why wouldn't I want him, you hussy?—My boy! my darlin'! my beauty!'

'Well, go look for him!' cried Matty, giving her a shove towards the door.

'Well, now, do you think I'll be turned out of my son's house so quietly as that, you unnatural baggage?' cried Mrs. Rooney, facing round fiercely. Upon which, a bitter altercation ensued between the women; in the course of which the

widow soon learned that Andy was not the possessor of Matty's charms: whereupon the old woman, no longer having the fear of damaging her daughter-in-law's beauty before her eyes, tackled to for a fight in right earnest; in the course of which some reprisals were made by the widow, in revenge for her broken nose; but Matty's youth and activity, joined to her Amazonian spirit, turned the tide in her favour, though, had not the old lady been blown by her long run, the victory would not have been so easy, for she was a tough customer, and left Matty certain marks of her favour that did not rub out in a hurry, while she took away as a keepsake a handful of Matty's hair, by which she had held on, till a finishing kick from the gentle bride finally ejected Mrs. Rooney from the house.

Off she reeled, bleeding and roaring, and while on her approach she had been blessing Heaven, and inventing sweet speeches for Matty, on her retreat she was cursing fate, and heaping all sorts of hard names on the Amazon she came to flatter.

How fared it in the meantime with Andy? He, poor devil! had passed a cold night, tied up to the old tree, and as the morning dawned, every object appeared to him through the dim light in a distorted form; the gaping hollow of the old trunk to which he was bound seemed like a huge mouth opening to swallow him, while the old knots looked like eyes, and the gnarled branches like claws, staring at, and ready to tear him in pieces.

A raven, perched above him on a lonely branch, croaked dismally, till Andy fancied he could hear words of reproach in the sounds, while a little tom-tit chattered and twittered on a neighbouring bough, as if he enjoyed and approved of all the severe things the raven uttered. The little tom-tit was the worse of the two, just as the solemn reproof of the wise can be better borne than the impertinent remark of some chattering fool. To these imaginary evils were added the real presence of some enormous water-rats, which issued from an adjacent pool, and began to eat Andy's hat and shoes, which had fallen off in his struggle with his captors; and all Andy's warning ejaculations could not make the vermin abstain from his shoes and his hat, which, to judge from their eager eating, must have been very high-flavoured. While Andy looked on at the demolition, and began to dread that they might transfer their

favours from his attire to himself, the welcome sound of the approaching tramp of horses fell upon his ear, and in a few minutes two horsemen stood before him-they were Father Phil and Squire Egan.

Great was the surprise of the Father, to see the fellow he had married the night before, and whom he supposed to be in the enjoyment of his honeymoon, tied up to a tree, and looking more dead than alive; and his indignation knew no bounds when he heard that a "couple-beggar" had dared to celebrate the marriage ceremony, which fact came out in the course of the explanation Andy made of the desperate misadventure which had befallen him; but all other grievances gave way in the eyes of Father Phil to the 'couple-beggar.'

"A"couple-beggar !"—the audacious vagabones!' he cried, while he and the Squire were engaged in loosing Andy's bonds. "A"couple-beggar" in my parish !—How fast they have tied him up, Squire !' he added, as he endeavoured to undo a knot. "A"couple-beggar" indeed!—I'll undo that marriage!—have you a knife about you, Squire ?—the blessed and holy tie of matrimony—it's a black knot, bad luck to it, and must be cut -take your leg out o' that now—and wait till I lay my hands on them—a "couple-beggar" indeed!'

'A desperate outrage this whole affair has been!' said the Squire.

But a "couple-beggar," Squire.'

'His house broken into

'But my dues, Squire,-think o' that!-what would become o' them, if "couple-beggars" is allowed to show their audacious faces in the parish? Oh, wait till next Sunday, that's all- I'll have them up before the althar, and I'll make them beg God's pardon, and my pardon, and the congregation's pardon, the audacious pair!' 1

1 A man and woman who had been united by a 'couple-beggar' were called up one Sunday by the priest in the face of the congregation, and summoned, as Father Phil threatens above, to beg God's pardon, and the priest's pardon, and the congregation's pardon; but the woman stoutly refused the last condition: 'I'll beg God's pardon and your reverence's