place just when the man's dead, and you'd have had a shuit o' mournin'. Oh, you are the most misfortunate divil, Andy Rooney, this day in Ireland-why did I rear you at all?'

'Squire O'Grady dead !' said Andy in surprise, and also with regret for his late master.

'Yis-and you've lost the mournin'-augh!'

'Oh, the poor Squire!' said Andy.

'The iligant new clothes!' grumbled Mrs. Rooney. 'And then luck tumbles into your way, such as man never had; without a place, or a rap to bless yourself with, you get a rich man's daughter for your wife, and you let her slip through your fingers.'

'How could I help it?' said Andy.

'Augh!—you bothered the job just the way you do everything,' said his mother.

'Sure I was civil spoken to her.'

'Augh!' said his mother.

'And took no liberty.'

'You goose!'

'And called her miss.'

'Oh, indeed, you missed it altogether.'

'And said I wasn't desarvin' of her.'

'That was thrue—but you should not have towld her so. Make a woman think you're betther than her, and she'll like you.'

'And sure, when I endayvoured to make myself agreeable

to her

Endayvoured!' repeated the old woman contemptuously—— 'endayvoured, indeed! Why didn't you make yourself agreeable at oncet, you poor dirty goose?—no, but you went sneaking about it-I know as well as if I was looking at you— you went sneaking and snivelin' until the girl took a disgust to you; for there's nothing a woman despises so much as shillyshallying.'

'Sure, you won't hear my defince,' said Andy.

‘Oh, indeed, you're betther at defince than attack,' said his mother.

'Sure the first little civility I wanted to pay her, she took up the three-legged stool to me.'

'The divil mend you!

her?'

And what civility did you offer

'I made a grab at her cap, and I thought she'd have brained me!'

Oonah set up such a shout of laughter at Andy's notion of a civility to a girl, that the conversation was stopped for some time, and her aunt remonstrated with her at her want of common sense, or, as she said, hadn't she 'more decency than to laugh at the poor fool's nonsense??

'What could I do agen the three-legged stool?' said Andy.

'Where was your own legs, and your own arms, and your own eyes, and your own tongue ?—eh ?'

'And sure I tell you it was all ready conthrived, and James Casey was sent for, and came.'

'Yis,' said the mother, 'but not for a long time, you towld me yourself; and what were you doing all that time? Sure, supposing you wor only a new acquaintance, any man worth a day's mate would have discoorsed her over in the time, and made her sinsible he was the best of husbands.'

'I tell you she wouldn't let me have her ear at all,' said Andy.

'Nor her cap either,' said Oonah, laughing.

'And then Jim Casey kem.'

'And why did you let him in?'

'It was she let him in, I tell you.'

'And why did you let her? He was on the wrong side of the door-that's the outside; and you on the right-that's the inside; and it was your house, and she was your wife, and you were her masther, and you had the rights of the church, and the rights of the law, and all the rights on your side; barrin' right rayson—that you never had; and sure without that, what's the use of all the other rights in the world?'

'Sure, hadn't he his friends, sthrong, outside?'

'No matther, if the door wasn't opened to them, for then YOU would have had a stronger friend than any o' them present among them.'

'Who?' inquired Andy.

'The hangman,' answered his mother; 'for breaking doors is hanging matther; and I say the presence of the hangman's always before people when they have such a job to do, and makes them think twice sometimes, before they smash once; and so you had only to keep one woman's hands quiet.'

'Faix, some of them would smash a door as soon as not,' said Andy.

'Well, then, you'd have the satisfaction of hanging them,' said the mother, and that would be some consolation. But even as it is, I'll have law for it-I will-for the property is yours, anyhow, though the girl is gone-and indeed a brazen baggage she is, and is mighty heavy in the hand :— oh, my poor eye!-it's like a coal of fire-but sure it was worth the risk living with her, for the sake of the purty property. And sure I was thinkin' what a pleasure it would be living with you, and taachin' your wife housekeepin', and bringing up the young turkeys and the childhre-but, och hone, you'll never do a bit o' good, you that got sitch careful bringin' up, Andy Rooney! Didn't I tache you manners, you dirty hanginbone blackguard? Didn't I tache you your blessed religion?-may the divil sweep you! Did I ever prevent you from sharing the lavings of the pratees with the pig? and didn't you often clane out the pot with him? and you're no good afther all. I've turned my honest penny by the pig, but I'll never make my money of you, Andy Rooney!'

There were some minutes' silence after this eloquent outbreak of Andy's mother, which was broken at last by Andy uttering a long sigh and an ejaculation.

'Och!-it's a fine thing to be a gintleman,' said Andy.
'Cock you up!' said his mother. 'Maybe it's a gintleman

you want to be ;—what puts that in your head, you omadhawn?' 'Why, because a gintleman has no hardships compared with one of uz. Sure, if a gintleman was marri'd, his wife wouldn't be tuk off from him the way mine was.'

'Not so soon, maybe,' said the mother, drily.

'And if a gintleman breaks a horse's heart, he's only a "bowld rider," while a poor sarvant is a "careless blackguard' for only taking a sweat out of him. If a gintleman dhrinks till he can't see a hole in a laddher, he's only “fresh,”—but "dhrunk" is the word for a poor man. And if a gintleman kicks up a row, he's a "fine sperited fellow," while a poor man is a "disordherly vagabone" for the same; and the Justice axes the one to dinner, and sends th' other to jail. Oh, faix, the law is a dainty lady; she takes people by the hand who can afford to wear gloves, but people with brown fists must keep their distance.'

'I often remark,' said his mother, 'that fools spake mighty sinsible betimes; but their wisdom all goes with their gab. Why didn't you take a betther grip of your luck when you had it ? You're wishing you wor a gintleman, and yet when you had the best part of a gintleman (the property, I mane) put into your way, you let it slip through your fingers; and afther lettin' a fellow take a rich wife from you, and turn you out of your own house, you sit down on a stool there, and begin to wish, indeed!—you sneaking fool-wish, indeed!—Och! if you wish with one hand, and wash with th' other, which will be clane first-eh ?'

'What could I do agen eight?' asked Andy.

'Why did you let them in, I say again?' said the mother, quickly.

'Sure the blame wasn't with me,' said Andy, 'but with

'Whisht, whisht, you goose!' said his mother. 'An coorse you'll blame every one and every thing but yourself—“ The losing horse blames the saddle."

'Well, maybe it's all for the best,' said Andy, ‘after all.'

'Augh, howld your tongue!'

'And if it wasn't to be, how could it be?'

'Listen to him!'

'And Providence is over us all.'

'Oh yis!' said the mother. 'When fools make mistakes they lay the blame on Providence. How have you the impidence to talk o' Providence in that manner? I'll tell you where the Providence was. Providence sent you to Jack Dwyer's, and kep Jim Casey away, and put the anger into owld Jack's heart, and made the opening for you to spake up, and gave you a wife--a wife with property! Ah, there's where the Providence was !—and you were the masther of a snug house -that was Providence! And wouldn't myself have been the one to be helping you in the farm-rearing the powlts, milkin' the cow, makin' the iligant butther, with lavings of butthermilk for the pigs-the sow thriving, and the cocks and hens cheering your heart with their cacklin'—the hank o' yarn on the wheel, and a hank of ingins up the chimbley-oh! that's what the Providence would have been-that would have been Providence indeed!—but never tell me that Providence turned you out of the house; that was your own goostherumfoodle.'

'Can't he take the law o' them, aunt?' inquired Oonah.