and Nelson together, was a trifle amongst the O'Gradys, they were nearly as great proficients in history, ancient and modern, as in the fine arts. Amidst these efforts of genius appeared many an old rhyme, scratched with rusty nails by rustier policemen, while lounging in the justice-room during the legal decisions of the great O'Grady; and all these were gone over again and again by Andy, till they were worn out, all but one,—a rough representation of a man hanging.

This possessed a sort of fascination for poor Andy; for at last, relinquishing all others, he stood riveted before it, and muttered to himself, "I wondher can they hang me-sure it's no murdher I done-but who knows what witnesses they might get? and these times they sware mighty hard; and Squire O'Grady has such a pack o' blackguards about him, sure he could get any thing swore he liked. Oh! wirre! wirra! what'll I do at all, at all—faix! I wouldn't like to be hanged-oh! look at him there-just the last kick in him—and a disgrace to my poor mother into the bargain. Augh!—but it's a dirty death to die —to be hung up, like a dog over a gate, or an ould hat on a peg, just that-a-way ;”—and he extended his arm as he spoke, suspending his caubeen, while he looked with disgust at the effigy. “But sure they can't hang me--though now I remember, Squire Egan towld me long ago I'd be hanged some day or other.-I wondher does my mother know I'm tuk away-and Oonah too: the craythur would be sorry for me.— Maybe if the mother spoke to Squire Egan, his honour would say a good word for me. Though that would'nt do; for him and Squire O'Grady's bitther inimies now, though they wor once good frinds.Och hone!-sure that's the way o' the world; and a cruel hard world it is so it is. Sure 'twould be well to be out of it a'most, and in a betther world. I hope there's no po'-chaises in heaven!"

The soliloquy of poor Andy was interrupted by a low measured sound of thumping, which his accustomed ear at once distinguished to be the result of churning; the room in which he was confined being one of a range of offices stretching backward from the principal building, and next door to the dairy. Andy had grown tired by this time of his repeated contemplation of the rhymes and the sketches, his own thoughts thereon, and his long confinement; and now the monotonous sound of the churn-dash falling on his ear, acted as a sort of husho,* and the worried and wearied Andy at last lay down on the platform, and fell asleep to the bumping lullaby.

* The nurses' song for setting a child to sleep, which they pronounced as "huzzho."

CHAPTER XIII.

THE sportsmen having returned from their fishing excursion to dinner, were seated round the hospitable board of Squire Egan; Murphy and Dick in high glee, at still successfully hoodwinking Furlong, and carrying on their mystification with infinite frolic.

The soup had been removed, and they were in the act of enjoying the salmon, which had already given so much enjoyment, when a loud 'knocking at the door announced the arrival of some fresh guest.

"Did you ask any one to dinner, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Egan of

her good-humoured lord, who was the very man to invite any friend.he net in the course of the day, and forget it after.

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'No, my dear," answered the Squire. "Did you, Dick?" said he. Dick replied in the negative, and said he had better go and see who it was; for looks of alarm had been exchanged between him, the Squire, and Murphy, lest any stranger should enter the room without being apprised of the hoax going forward; and Dawson had just reached the door, on his cautionary mission, when it was suddenly thrown wide open, and in walked, with a rapid step and bustling air, an active little gentleman dressed in black, who was at Mrs. Egan's side in a moment, exclaiming with a very audible voice and much empressement of manner, 'My dear Mrs. Egan, how do you do? I'm delighted to see you. Took a friend's privilege, you see, and have come unbidden to claim the hospitality of your table. The fact is, I was making a sick visit to this side of my parish; and, finding it impossible to get home in time to my own dinner, I had no scruple in laying yours under contribution."

Now this was the Protestant clergyman of the parish, whose political views were in opposition to those of Mr. Egan; but the good hearts of both men prevented political feeling from interfering, as in Ireland it too often does, with the social intercourse of life. Still, however, even if Dick Dawson had got out of the room in time, this was not the man to assist them in covering their hoax on Furlong, and the scene became excessively ludicrous the moment the reverend gentleman made his appearance. Dick, the Squire, and Murphy, opened their eyes at each other, while Mrs. Egan grew as red as scarlet when Furlong stared a her in astonishment as the new-comer mentioned her name, she stanımered out welcome as well as she could, and called for a chair for Mr. Bermingham, with all sorts of kind inquiries for Mrs. Bermingham and the little Berminghams,—for the Bermingham manufactory in that line was extensive.

While the reverend doctor was taking his seat, spreading his napkin, and addressing a word to each round the table, Furlong turned to Fanny

Dawson, beside whom he was sitting, (and who, by the by, could not resist a fit of laughter on the occasion,) and said, with a bewildered look, "Did he not addwess Madame as Mistwess Egan?"

"Yeth," said Fanny, with admirable readiness; "but whithper." And as Furlong inclined his head towards her, she whispered in his ear -"You muthn't mind him-he's mad, poor man!—that is, a little inthane, and thinks every lady is Mrs. Egan.-An unhappy patshion, poor fellow!-but quite harmleth."

Furlong uttered a very prolonged "Oh!" at Fanny's answer to his inquiry, and looked sharply round the table; for there was an indefinable something in the conduct of every one at the moment of Mr. Bermingham's entrance that attracted his attention; and the name "Egan," and everybody's fidgityness, (which is the only word I can apply,) roused his suspicion. Fanny's answer only half satisfied him; and looking at Mrs. Egan, who could not conquer her confusion, he remarked,-How vewy wed Mistress O'Gwady gwew!"

“Oh, tshe can't help blutching, poor thoul! when he thays 'Egan' to her, and thinks her his furth love."

"How vewy widiculous, to be sure," said Furlong.

"Haven't you innothent mad people thumtimes in England?" said Fanny.

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'Oh, vewy," said Furlong; "but this appea's to me so wemaʼkably stwange an abbewation."

"Oh," returned Fanny with quickness, "I thuppose people go mad on their ruling patshion, and the ruling patshion of the Irish, you know, is love."

The conversation all this time was going on in other quarters, and Furlong heard Mr. Bermingham talking of his having preached last Sunday in his new church.

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Suwely," said he to Fanny, "they would not pe'mit an insane cle'gyman to pweach ?"

"Oh," said Fanny, almost suffocating with laughter, "he only thinkth he's a clergyman."

"How vewy

dwoll you are!" said Furlong.

"Now you're only quithing me," said Fanny, looking with affected innocence in the face of the unfortunate young gentleman she had been quizzing most unmercifully the whole day..

"Oh, Miste' O'Gwady," said Furlong, dwown a man to-day."

66 we saw them going to

"Indeed!" said the Squire, reddening, as he saw Mr. Bermingham stare at his being called O'Grady; so, to cover the blot, and stop Furlong, he asked him to take wine.

"Do they often dwown people here?" continued Furlong, after he ad bowed.

"Not that I know of," said the Squire.

"But are not the lowe' o'ders wather given to what Lo'd Bacon calls-"

"Who cares about Lord Bacon?" said Murphy.

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My dear sir, you supwise me !" said Furlong, in utter amazement. "Lo'd Bacon's sayings-"