lessened when his guide added, "The milliner is a queer chap, and maybe he'll tell us something funny."

"Then the milline' is a man?" said Furlong.

"Yes," said the boy, laughing, "and he does not work with needle and thread, either."

They approached a small out-house as he spoke, and the sharp clinking of a hammer fell on their ears. Shoving open a rickety door, the boy cried, "Well, Fogy, I've brought a gentleman to see you. This is Fogy, the milliner, sir," said he to Furlong, whose surprise was further increased, when, in the person of the man called the milliner, he beheld a tinker. "What a strange pack of people I have got amongst," thought Furlong.

The old tinker saw his surprise, and grinned at him. "I suppose it was a nate young woman you thought you'd see when he towld you he'd bring you to the milliner-ha! ha! ha! Oh, they're nate lads, the Masther O'Gradys; divil a thing they call by the proper name, at all."

"Yes, we do," said the boy, sharply, "we call ourselves by our proper name-ha, Fogy, I have you there!

"Divil a taste, as smart as you think yourself, Masther Ratty; you call yourselves gentlemen, and that's not your proper name."

Ratty, who was scraping triangles on the door with a bit of broken brick, at once converted his pencil into a missile, and let fly at the head of the tinker, who seemed quite prepared for such a result, for, raising the kettle he was mending, he caught the shot adroitly, and the brick rattled harmlessly on the tin.

"Ha!" said the tinker, mockingly, "you missed me, like your mammy's blessin' ;" and he pursued his work.

"What a very odd name he calls you," said Furlong, addressing young O'Grady.

Ratty," said the boy. "Oh, yes, they call me Ratty, short for Horatio. I was called Horatio after Lord Nelson, because Lord Nelson's father was a clergyman, and papa intends me for the Church." “And a nate clargy you'll make," said the tinker.

"And why do they call you milline'?" inquired Furlong. The old man looked up and grinned, but said nothing.

"You'll know before long, I'll engage," said Ratty,-" won't he, Fogy? You were with old Gran' to-day, wern't you?" "Yes."

"Did she sing you The lass with the delicate air?" said the boy, putting himself in the attitude of a person playing the guitar, throwing up his eyes, and mimicking the voice of an old woman,

"So they call'd her, they call'd her,

The lass-the lass

With a delicate air,

De-lick-it-lick-it-lick-it,

The lass with a de-lick-it air!"

The young rascal made frightful mouths, and put out his tongue every time he said "lick it," and when he had finished, asked Furlong, 66 wasn't that the thing? Furlong told him his grandmama had been going to sing it, but his pleasure had been deferred till to-morrow.

Then you did not hear it?" said Ratty.

Furlong answered in the negative.

“Oh, murder! murder! I'm sorry I told you," said the boy. "Is it so vewy pa'ticula' then?" inquired Furlong.

"Oh, you'll find that out, and more, if you live long enough," was Then turning to the tinker, he said, "Have you any milliner work in hand, Fogy?"

the answer.

"To be sure I have," answered the tinker; "who has so good a right to know that as yourself?-throth, you've little to do, I'm thinkin', when you ax that idle question.-Oh, you're nate lads! And would nothin' sarve you but brakin' the weather-cock?"

"Oh, 'twas such a nice cock-shot, 'twas impossible not to have a shy at it," said Ratty, chuckling.

"Oh, you're nice lads!" still chimed in the tinker.

66

Besides," said Ratty, "Gusty bet me a bull-dog pup against a rabbit, I could not smash it in three goes."

66

Faix, an' he ought to know you betther than that," said the tinker; "for you'd make a fair offer* at anything, I think, but an answer to your schoolmasther. Oh, a nate lad you are-a nate lad!—a nice clargy you'll be, your rivirince. Oh, if you hit off the tin commandments as fast as you hit off the tin weathercock, it's a good man you'll be-an' if I never had a head-ache 'till then, sure it's happy I'd be!"

"Hold your prate, old Growly," said Ratty; "and why don't you mend the weather-cock?"

"I must mend the kittle first,—and a purtty kittle you made of it !— and would nothing sarve you but the best kittle in the house to tie to the dog's tail? Ah, masther Ratty, you're terrible boys, so yiz are!" 66 Hold your prate, you old thief!-why would'nt we amuse ourselves?" "And huntin' the poor dog, too."

66

Well, what matter?-he was a strange dog."

"That makes no differ in the crulety.'

66

Ah, bother! you old humbug!-who was it blackened the ragwoman's eye?-ha! Fogy-ha! Fogy-dirty Fogy!"

"Go away, Masther Ratty, you're too good, so you are, your Rivirince. Faix, I wondher his honour, the Squire, doesn't murther you sometimes.'

"He would, if he could catch us," replied Ratty, "but we run too fast for him, so divil thank him!—and you, too, Fogy-ha! old Growly! Come along, Mr. Furlong, here's Gusty;-bad scran to you, Fogy!" and he slapped the door as he quitted the tinker.

Gustavus, followed by two younger brothers, Theodore and Godfrey, (for O'Grady loved high-sounding names in baptism, though they got twisted into such queer shapes in family use,) now led the way over the park towards the river. Some fine timber they passed occasionally, but the axe had manifestly been busy, and the wood seemed thinned rather from necessity than for improvement; the paths were choked with weeds and fallen leaves, and the rank moss added its evidence of neglect. The boys pointed out anything they thought worthy of observation, by the

*

"A" fair offer," is a phrase amongst the Irish peasantry, meaning a successful aim.

way, such as the best places to find a hare, the most covered approach to the river to get a shot at wild ducks, or where the best young wood was to be found from whence to cut a stick. On reaching their point of destination, which was where the river was less rapid, and its banks sedgy and thickly grown with flaggers and bullrushes, the sport of spearing for eels commenced. Gusty first undertook the task, and after some vigorous plunges of his implement into the water, he brought up the prey wriggling between its barbed prongs. Furlong was amazed, for he thought this, like the salmon fishing, was intended as a quiz, and after a few more examples of Gusty's prowess, he undertook the sport; a short time however fatigued his unpractised arm, and he relinquished the spear to Theodore or Tay, as they called him, and Tay shortly brought up his fish, and thus, one after another, the boys, successful in their sport, soon made the basket heavy.

Then, and not till then, they desired Furlong to carry it; he declared he had no curiosity whatever in that line, but the boys would not let him off so easy, and told him the practice there was, that every one should take his share in the day's sport, and as he could not catch the fish, he should carry it. He attempted a parley, and suggested he was only a visitor, but they only laughed at him,—said that might be a very good Dublin joke, but it would not pass in the country. He then attempted laughingly to decline the honour, but Ratty, turning round to a monstrous dog, which hitherto had followed them quietly, said, "Here! Bloody-bones; here! boy! at him, sir!-make him do his work, boy!" The bristling savage gave a low growl, and fixed his fierce eyes on Furlong, who attempted to remonstrate, but he very soon gave that up, for another word from the boys urged the dog to a howl and a crouch, preparatory to a spring, and Furlong made no further resistance, but took up the basket amid the uproarious laughter of the boys, who continued their sport, adding every now and then to the weight of Furlong's load, and whenever he lagged behind, they cried out, "Come along, man-Jack!" which was the complimentary name they called him by for the rest of the day. Furlong thought spearing for eels worse sport than fishing for salmon, and was rejoiced when a turn homeward was taken by the party; but his annoyances were not yet ended. On their return, their route lay across a plank of considerable length, which spanned a small branch of the river; it had no central support, and consequently sprang considerably to the foot of the passenger, who was afforded no protection from handrail or even a swinging rope, and this rendered its passage difficult to an unpractised person. When Furlong was told to make his way across, he hesitated, and after many assurances on his part that he could not attempt it, Gusty said he would lead him over in security, and took his hand for the purpose; but when he had him just in the centre, he loosed himself from Furlong's hold, and ran to the opposite side. While Furlong was praying him to return, Ratty stole behind him sufficiently far to have purchase enough on the plank, and began jumping till he made it spring too high for poor Furlong to hold his footing any longer; so squatting on the plank, he got astride upon it, and held on with his hands, every descending vibration of the board dipping his dandy boots in the water.

"Well done, Ratty!" shouted all the boys.

"Splash him, Tay!" cried Gusty. "Pull away, Goggy."

The three boys now began pelting large stones into the river close beside Furlong, splashing him so thoroughly, that he was wringing wet in five minutes. In vain Furlong shouted, "Young gentlemen! young gentlemen!" and, at last, when he threatened to complain to their father, they recommenced worse than before, and vowed they'd throw him into the stream if he did not promise to be silent on the subject, for, to use their own words, if they were to be beaten, they might as well duck him at once, and have the "worth of their licking." At last, a compromise being effected, Furlong stood up to walk off the plank. "Remember," said Ratty, "you won't tell we hoised you."

"I won't, indeed," said Furlong; and he got safe to land.

"But I will!" cried a voice from the neighbouring wood; and Miss O'Grady appeared, surrounded by a crowd of little pet-dogs. She shook her hand in a threatening manner at the offenders, and all the little dogs set up a yelping bark, as if to enforce their mistress's anger.

The snappish barking of the pets was returned by one hoarse bay from Bloody-bones, which silenced the little dogs, as a broadside from a seventy-four would scatter a flock of privateers, and the boys returned the sister's threat by a universal shout of "Tell-tale!"

"Go home, tell-tale!" they cried, all at once; and with an action equally simultaneous, they stooped one and all for pebbles, and pelted Miss Augusta so vigorously, that she and her dogs were obliged to run for it.

CHAPTER XVI.

HAVING recounted Furlong's out-door adventures, it is necessary to say something of what was passing at Neck-or-Nothing-Hall in his absence. O'Grady, on leaving the breakfast-table, retired to his justice-room to transact business, a principal feature in which was the examination of Handy Andy touching the occurrences of the evening he drove Furlong to Merryvale; for though Andy was clear of the charge for which he had been taken into custody, namely, the murder of Furlong, O'Grady thought he might have been a party to some conspiracy to drive the stranger to the enemy's camp, and therefore put him to the question very sharply. This examination he had set his heart upon; and reserving it as a bon bouche, dismissed all preliminary cases in a very off-hand manner, just as men carelessly swallow a few oysters preparatory to dinner.

As for Andy, when he was summoned to the justice-room, he made sure it was for the purpose of being charged with robbing the post-office, and cast a side-long glance at the effigy of the man hanging on the wall, as he was marched up to the desk where O'Grady sat in magisterial dignity; and, therefore, when he found it was only for driving a gentleman to a wrong house all the pother was made, his heart was lightened of a heavy load, and he answered briskly enough. The string of question and reply was certainly an entangled one, and left O'Grady as much puzzled as before, whether Andy was stupid and innocent, or too knowing to let himself be caught,-and to this opinion he clung at last. In the course of the inquiry he found Andy had been in service at Merryvale; and Andy, telling him he knew all about waiting at table, and so forth, and O'Grady being in want of an additional man-servant in the house, while his honourable guest Sackville Scatterbrain should be on a visit with him, Andy was told he should be taken on trial for a month. Indeed, a month was as long as most servants could stay in the house-they came and went as fast as figures in a magic lanthorn.

Andy was installed in his new place, and set to work immediately scrubbing up extras of all sorts to make the reception of the honourable candidate for the county as brilliant as possible, not only for the honour of the house, but to make a favourable impression on the coming guest; for Augusta, the eldest girl, was marriageable, and, to her father's ears, "The Honourable Mrs. Sackville Scatterbrain" would have sounded much more agreeably than "Miss O'Grady."

"Well-who knows?" said O'Grady to his wife; "such things have come to pass. Furbish her up, and make her look smart at dinner-he