assist him in crawling towards the trap. It was a relief when after some minutes of cautious creeping, he felt the fresh air breathing from above, and a moment or two more brought him in contact with the ladder. With the stealth of a cat he began to climb the rungs-he could hear the men snoring on the outside of the cave: step by step as he arose he felt his heart beat faster at the thought of escape, and became more cautious. At length his head emerged from the cave, and he saw the men lying about its mouth; they lay close around it—he must step over them to escape-the chance is fearful, but he determines to attempt it—he ascends still higher-his foot is on the last rung of the ladder the next step puts him on the heather-when he feels a hand lay hold of him from below!

His heart died within him at the touch, and he could not resist an exclamation.

"Who's that!" exclaimed one of the men outside. Andy crouched.

"Come down," said the voice softly from below, "if Jack wakes, it will be worse for you."

It was the voice of Bridget, and Andy felt it was better to be with her than exposed to the savagery of Shan More and his myrmidons; so he descended quietly, and gave himself up to the tight hold of Bridget, who with many asseverations that "out of her arms she would not let the prisoner go till morning," led him back to the cave.

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CHAPTER XXXIX.

"Great wit to madness nearly is allied,

And thin partitions do the bounds divide."

So sings the poet: but whether the wit be great or little, the “thin partition" separating madness from sanity is equally mysterious. It is true that the excitability attendant upon genius approximates so closely to madness, that it is sometimes difficult to distinguish between them; but without the attendant " genius" to hold up the train of madness, and call for our special permission and respect in any of its fantastic excursions, the most ordinary crack-brain sometimes chooses to sport in the regions of sanity, and, without the license which genius is supposed to dispense to her children, poach over the preserves of common sense. This is a well known fact, and would not be reiterated here, but that the circumstances about to be recorded hereafter might seem unworthy of belief; and as the veracity of our history we would not have for one moment questioned, we have ventured to jog the memory of our readers as to the close neighbourhood which madness and common sense inhabit, before we record a curious instance of intermitting madness in the old dowager O'Grady.

Her son's death had, by the violence of the shock, dragged her from the region of fiction in which she habitually existed; but, after the funeral, she relapsed into all her strange aberration, and her bird-clock and her chimney-pot head-dress were once more in requisition.

The old lady had her usual attendance from her granddaughter, and the customary offering of flowers was rendered, but they were not so cared for as before, and Charlotte was dismissed sooner than usual from her morning's attendance, and a new favourite received in her place. And, "of all the birds in the air," who should this favourite be but Master Ratty. Yes!-Ratty-the caricaturist of his grandmama, was, "for the nonce," her closeted companion. Many a guess was given as to "what in the world" grandmama could want with Ratty; but the secret was kept between them, for this reason, that the old lady kept the reward she promised Ratty, for preserving it, in her own hands, until the duty she required on his part should be accomplished; and the shilling a day to which Ratty looked forward kept him raithful.

Now the duty Master Ratty had to perform was instructing his grandmama how to handle a pistol; the bringing up quick to the mark, and levelling by "the sight," was explained, but a difficulty arose in the old lady's shutting her left eye, which Ratty declared to be indispensable, and for some time Ratty was obliged to stand on a chair and

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cover his grandmama's eye with his hand while she took aim; this was found inconvenient, however, and the old lady substituted a black silk shade, to obfuscate her sinister luminary in her exercises, which now advanced to snapping the lock, and knocking sparks from the flint, which made the old lady wink with her right eye. When this second habit was overcome, the dry practice, that is, without powder, was given up, and a "flash in the pan" was ventured upon, but this made her shut both eyes together, and it was some time before she could prevail on herself to hold her eye fixed on her mark, and pull the trigger. This, however, at last was accomplished, and when she had conquered the fear of seeing the flash, she adopted the plan of standing before a handsome old-fashioned looking-glass, which reached from the ceiling to the floor, and levelling the pistol at her own reflection before it, as if she were engaged in mortal combat, and every time she snapped and burned priming, she would exclaim, "I hit him that time, I know— I can kill him-tremble, villain !"

Now, as long as this pistol practice had the charm of novelty for Ratty, it was all very well; but when, day by day, the strange mistakes and nervousness of his grandmama became less piquant, from repetition, it was not such good fun; and when the rantipole boy, after as much time as he wished to devote to the old woman's caprice, endeavoured to emancipate himself, and was countermanded, an outburst of " Oh, bother!" would take place, till the grandmother called up the prospective shillings to his view, and Ratty bowed before the altar of Mammon. But even Mammon failed to keep Ratty loyal; for that heathen god, Momus, claimed a superior allegiance; Ratty worshipped the " cap and bells" as the true crown, and "the bauble" as the sovereign sceptre. Besides, the secret became troublesome to him, and he determined to let the whole house know what "gran" and he were about, in a way of his own.

The young imp, in the next day's practice, worked up the grandmama to a state of great excitement, urging her to take a cool and determined aim at the looking-glass.

"Cover him weil, gran," said Ratty.

"I will," said the dowager, resolutely.

"You ought to be able to hit him at six paces."

"I stand at twelve paces."

"No-you are only six from the looking-glass."

"But the reflection, child, in the mirror, doubles the distance." "Bother!" said Ratty. "Here, take the pistol-mind your eye, and don't wink."

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Ratty, you are singularly obtuse to the charms of science."

"What's science?" said Ratty.

"Why, gunpowder, child, for instance, is made by science.

"I never saw his name, then, on a canister," said Ratty. « Pigou, Andrew and Wilks, or Mister Dartford Mills are the men for gunpowder. You know nothing about it, gran.”

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Ratty, you are disrespectful, and will not listen to instruction. I knew Kirwan-the great Kirwan, the chemist, who always wore his hat "

X

"Then he knew chemistry better than ma iners," said Ratty.

"Ratty, you are very troublesome.—I desire you listen, sir.-Kirwan, sir, told me all about science; and the Dublin Society have his picture, with a bottle in his hand

"Then he was fond of drink," said Ratty.

Ratty, don't be pert. To come back to what I was originally saying; I repeat, si., I am at twelve paces from my object ;-six from the mirror, which, doubling by reflection, makes twelve; such is the law of optics. I suppose you know what optics are ?"

"Didn't I hear the old

blind man at the fair asking charity for the loss of his blessed optics?""

“Oh, what lamentable ignorance, my child!" exclaimed the old lady. "Your tutor ought to be ashamed of himself."

"So he is," said Ratty. "He hasn't had a pair of new breeches for the last seven years; and he hides himself whenever he sees mama or the girls."

"Oh, you ignorant child! Indeed, Ratty, my love, you must study.— I will give you the renowned Kirwan's book. Charlotte tore some ofit for curl papers; but there's enough left to enlighten you with the sun's rays, and reflection and refraction-"

"I know what that is," said Ratty.

"What?"

"Refraction."

"And what is it, dear?"

"Bad behaviour," said Ratty.

"Oh heavens!" exclaimed his grandmother.

"Yes it is," said Ratty stoutly; "the tutor says I'm refractory when I behave ill; and he knows Latin better than you."

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Ratty, Ratty! you are hopeless!" exclaimed his grandmama. "No, I am not," said Ratty; "I'm always hoping. And I hope Uncle Robert will break his neck some day, and leave us his money.' The old woman turned up her eyes, and exclaimed, “You wicked boy!' 'Fudge!" said Ratty; "he's an old shaver, and we want it; and indeed, gran, you ought to give me ten shillings for ten days' teaching, now; and there's a fair next week, and I want to buy things."

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"Ratty, I told you when you made me perfect in the use of my weapon I would pay you. My promise is sacred, and I will observe it with that scrupulous honour which has ever been the characteristic of the family as soon as I hit something, and satisfy myself of my mastery over the weapon, the money shall be yours, but not till then."

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"Oh, very well," said Ratty; go on then.-Ready-don't bring up your arm that way, like the handle of a pump, but raise it nice from the elbow-that's it.-Ready-fire! Ah! there you blink your eye, and drop the point of your pistol-try another. Ready-fire!-That's better. Now steady the next time."