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Suddenly the air was clouded, all the furniture enshrouded

With the smoke of vile tobacco-this was worse than all before;
"Smith!" I cried (in not offensive tones, it might have been expensive,
For he knew the art defensive, and could costermongers floor);
"Recollect it's after midnight, are you going?-mind the floor."
Quoth the Vulture, "Never more."

"Smith!" I cried (the gin was going, down his throat in rivers flowing),
"If you want a bed, you know there's quite a nice hotel next door,
Very cheap-I'm ill-and, joking set apart, your horrid smoking
Irritates my cough to choking. Having mentioned it before,
Really, you should not compel one- Will you mizzle-as before?"
Quoth the Vulture "Never more."

"Smith!" I cried, "that joke repeating merits little better treating
For you than a condemnation as a nuisance and a bore;
Drop it, pray, it isn't funny; I've to mix some rum and honey-
If you want a little money, take some and be off next door;
Run a bill up for me if you like, but do be off next door."

Quoth the Vulture "Never more!"

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"Smith!" I shriek'd-the accent humbler dropping, as another tumbler
I beheld him mix, "be off! you drive me mad-it's striking four.
Leave the house and something in it; if you go on at the gin, it
Won't hold out another minute. Leave the house and shut the door-
Take your beak from out my gin, and take your body through the door!"
Quoth the Vulture "Never more!"

And the Vulture never flitting-still is sitting, still is sitting,
Gulping down my stout by gallons, and my oysters by the score:
And the beast, with no more breeding than a heathen savage feeding,
The new carpet's tints unheeding, throws his shells upon the floor.
And his smoke from out my curtains, and his stains from out my floor,
Shall be sifted never more!

ONE OF THE BOYS.

A Reminiscence.

PADDY SHANNON was a bugler in the 87th Regiment-the Faugh-a Ballaghs—and with that regiment, under the command of Sir Hugh Gough, served all through the Peninsular campaign. When the campaign was over, Paddy had nothing left him but the recollections of it. His only solace was the notice taken of him in the canteen. It is no wonder, then, he became a convivial soul. From the bottle he soon found his way to the halberts.

The regiment was paraded, the proceedings read, and Paddy tied up. The signal was given for the drummers to begin, when Paddy Shannon exclaimed:

"Listen, now, Sir Hugh. Do ye mean to say you are going to flog me? Just recollect who it was sounded the charge at Borossa, when you took the only French eagle ever taken. Wasn't it Paddy Shannon? Little I thought that day it would come to this; and the regiment so proud of that same eagle on the colors."

"Take him down," said Sir Hugh, and Paddy escaped unpunished.

and only the 87th to defend it, if it wasn't Paddy Shannon who struck up 'Garryown, to glory, boys,' and you, Sir Hugh, have got the same two towers and the breach between them upon your coat of arms in testimony thereof."

"Take him down," said the Colonel, and Paddy was again unscathed.

Paddy, however, had a long list of services to get through, and a good deal of whiskey, and ere another two months he was again tied up, the sentence read, and an assurance from Sir Hugh Gough, that nothing would make him relent. Paddy tried the eagle-it was of no use. He appealed to Sir Hugh's pride and the breach of Tarifa without any avail.

"And is it me," at last he broke out, "that you are going to flog? I ask you, Sir Hugh Gough, before the whole regiment, who knew it well, if it wasn't Paddy Shannon who picked up the French Field-Marshal's staff at the battle of Vittoria, that the Duke of Wellington sent to the Prince Regent, and for which he got that letter that will be long remembered, and that made him a Field-Marshal

A very short time, however, elapsed, before Paddy again found himself placed in similar circum-into the bargain? The Prince Regent said, 'You've

stances.

"Go on," said the Colonel. "Don't be in a hurry," ejaculated Paddy, "I've a few words to say, Sir Hugh."

"The eagle won't save you this time, Sir." "Is it the eagle, indeed! then I wasn't going to say any thing about that same, though you are, and ought to be proud of it. But I was just going to ask if it wasn't Paddy Shannon who, when the breach of Tarifa was stormed by 22,000 French,

sent me the staff of a Field-Marshal of France; I return you that of a Field-Marshal of England.' Wasn't it Paddy Shannon that took it? Paddy Shannon, who never got rap, or recompense, or ribbon, or star, or coat of arms, or mark of distinction, except the flogging you are going to give him."

"Take him down," cried Sir Hugh, and again Paddy was forgiven.

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TOM HOULAGHAN'S GUARDIAN SPRITE.

BY JOHN L'ESTRANGE.

ANY body who knows Kilkenny should also know the black quarry, where all the black marble comes from, for which the once magnificent, but now poor old ruined city, is so famous. And any body who knows the black quarry, should also know Tom Houlaghan; ould Tom, blind Tom, shooting Tom, lame Tom, queer Tom, Tom the Fisherman-for under all these titles was he known. Tom was one of the most odd, whimsical, drunken, and notorious characters, for many miles around. He wore a curiously cut coat, after a pattern of his own, a calf-skin waistcoat, with the dappled hair outside, made by himself, half boots, like a pair of Indian snow shoes, and a hat with a cock in it unlike any thing that ever covered the head of mortal man— add to this outre appearance, that he is blind of one eye, and lame of one leg. He is now over seventy years of age, and can drive, ride, shoot, or fish, with any man in Ireland-aye, fishing is his study, the delight of his heart; and I have fished in many waters, both in Leinster and Connaught, and never yet met a sportsman, high or low, who could handle a rod, or fix a fly, in competition with "ould Tom."

On a fine morning in September, I accompanied Tom on an excursion. About mid-day we threw ourselves on the grass near the rock of Monteagle, opposite the "wild wood," with the river flowing brown and beautiful at our feet. The "Quest" sent his deep horse coo over the waters, from the woody dell-the falling oak-for "the woods were cutting"-crashed in its interior, eliciting sounds strangely and awfully beautiful. "What an indescribable sublimity," thought I, "there is in the music of the woods-it speaks to the soul in the words and the voice of Ossian!"

"How purty that distillery of O'Donnell's looks at the top of the sthrame!" remarked Tom, interrupting my high-flying cogitations.

We had been more than usually successful, and in triumph basked our naked limbs in the sun. The bee hummed joyously along through the meadow flowers, and the trees whispered gladness among their leaves, the birds vied with each other in melody, the brooks and streams sung and played in their own subdued music, and the fishes jumped -in our baskets. I was becoming dreamy amidst the luxuries of nature.

"Oh! then to be sure, the power of fine whiskey there's med there from morn till night," remarked Tom, following up his meditations on O'Donnell's distillery, with one hand in the provision basket all the time, and now and then throwing scraps to his two fierce dogs, that lay with erect ears and watchful eyes, at a respectful distance, while he occasionally helped himself to a little of the undiluted, poured into an empty pot that once contained "Warren's Jet."

"Ah! Tom," said I, your thoughts are ever running in the one channel-whiskey, whiskey, for

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when employed in giving expression to what he considered a knowing thing; maybe you didn't hear I was swimmin' yesterday, sur ?" he asked. "Swimming!" I answered, "what devil's angel put such madness into your head-the old spirit, I suppose?"

"No, in throth, now, sur," he replied. “You're always goin' an'-I done it in spite of meself-but betther do that than worse-an' only my friend the fairy, gev me the warnin' wink, sore and sorry for it I'd be."

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"Your friend the fairy?" said I. "Come, Tom, that day is gone by-I'm not so soft as that yet." Augh, aye, sur; smile, and talk away, and shake your head; but as sure as I hooked that big trout on the tail fly, and as sure as the robbers hung 'Glory' for the murder of the archbishop, I'm not telling you a pin's worth of a lie,-there now."

"Well, Tom, while we're resting and settling our affairs, let me hear it all."

"Well, then, sur, it was about eight years ago, that at the dusk, one evenin', I slipped up as far as Peery Dunne's, (there at the foot of Rannal's moat, one of the most hauntedest places on earth,) just to get a few feathers for the green dhrake, out ov the ould paycock Well. When I got the feathers, like a decent neighbor, as Peery always was, he axed me to sit down and rest, an' afore I could draw my stool to an anchor, he sent his gossoon Larry for a dhrop down the road, 'just,' sez, he 'to take the smell of the smoke off us.' We talked and gosthered over ould times, and then we had another dhrop, and, maybe, another afther, till it was all hours. I then thought it was high time to be movin', so up I got and shuck my giblets. Give us the half of tin, Peery,' sez I, shakin' hands with him, and biddin' him good night. So I canthered down the lane as straight as an arrow, as I thought; but, after a while, I found that I couldn't get on at all, good or bad; every step cost me five minutes hard labor, just for all the world as if I was walking up the roof of a house, or goin' to the gallows against my will. At last, I found meself thrippin' through long grass, and nettles, and thistles, and boughlawns, and tazed and tarmented every step I took. me safe conscience, Tom Houlaghan,' sez I to myself, 'you're not at home, be no manner o' means, nor is it likely you'll be there to-night;' so down I sat quite tired entirely. In a minit, my darlint, I was surrounded by a whole throop of the quarest and the funniest lookin' little chaps that I ever saw in my life. They began caperin', and shoutin,' and huzzain' about me like mad. At last one of them spies my hat beside me, and seizin' it, he rises it into the air with a kick. Oh! gawlies, boys,' sez he, 'there's a hat;' so they handed it round, and they all began laughin' at it as if they'd burst. 'Why, then, by the gonnies, my chap,' sez I, 'you needn't boast out of your own bereadh (cap); shew it here till I cock it for you.' I whipt it off his head, and settin' it tasty like, I took one o' the eyes of the paycock's tail, and stuck it into it, quite rakish. Hould over your dumplin,' sez I, 'till I put it on you;' faith an' it was quite an improvement, and all the rest of the little chaps began

'Be

dancin' as pleased as Punch about him-faith, he | I saw a mighty nate, smooth, purty bit of flag lyin' was quite a dandy among them. 'Well, Tom in the yard, that with the first measure of my eye I Houlaghan, my gay good fellow,' sez he, 'I'll prove knew would just shoot the poor pig to a hair. By your friend for this yet, never you fear;' so turning the crass of my shtick,' sez I, if God spares me to the rest of the little chaps, 'Come away, boys,' life, health and strinth, I'll stale you this very night. sez he, and let poor Tom take his nap in quiet.' It's a mortial sin to see you standin' idle in the When I awoke, I found meself undher a crookad murdherin' tithe procthur's way, in danger of three, in the very heart of the moat, and a big breakin' the blackguard's nick, and the could rain stone grindin' the side out o' me. That was the comin' down on my poor baste of a pig.' About very first time I saw my friend the fairy. twelve o'clock that night I hopped across the fields to the procthur's, and over the stile with me into the yard. I laid hould of my brave bit of a flag, and had it just riz to my shouldher, when I spied my poor friend the fairy: he winked at me, shook his head and made signs for me to be off. I wheeled the flag round before my face that I might look over my shouldher to see where the danger lay, when before I could take a blink, whizh !—crack! a gun was fired, and smack! a bullet flattened on the flag, right furninst my head. That procthur was a murdherin' purty shot, sur! May that be your Christmas dinner, you bloody minded thief!' siz I throwin' down the flag, and smashin' it, though it went to my heart; and boundin' over the stile, I was far away before he could load again, and take another crack at my poor ould sconce. But isn't it a mighty curious thing entirely, sur, that the procthur was shot in the stomach, at a tithe battle in the Barony of Gowran, the Christmas-eve afther?" "So, then, you aspire to the spirit of prophecy, Tom, amongst the rest of your qualifications?" said I.

"The second time I saw him was in the big wood of Kilfera. I was down as far as Feoghoraugh (the streams of the fishes) layin' down the throut nets, and was comin' home about two in the mornin', when just as I enthered a narrow path where the big threes met abow my head, I saw my friend peepin' from behind a thrunk. I knew him at once by the feather in his cap;-he gave me a knowin' wink, and pointed with his finger up the path before me. I looked along;-and that I may never taste a dhrop worse than this, (another swig,) if the branches of the threes worn't actually breakin' down with wild cats. There they were on every bough and branch-here and there-over and undher, up and down, and they all watchin' me; but the devil a mew out of their heads. Oh ye villains o' the world,' sez I to meself, is this the dirty threachrous revinge you're goin' to make ov me?' I looked at my friend the fairy, and he put his finger to his mouth to imitate whistlin', and vanished. I took the hint, you're right,' sez I, 'ma Bouchelleen bawn,' (my fair son,) for perfect fear took the memory out ov me, so I put my finger to my mouth, and med the woods screech with the father of a whistle. In two minits I had Devilskin, Firetail, and Rosy, the little terrier crethers at my side, (for I left them at Jim Walsh's furninst (opposite) to where the ould mill was over against Collis's stone yard). 'Hulloo, the cats, my good dogs,' sez I; and before I could turn my head, there wasn't a wild cat in the seven counties, I think, but was on the top of my poor dogs. You may be shure I didn't wait to see how the battle went, but med the best of my way up the hill, home, as fast as the ould shanks could carry me. The poor anymals kem home in the mornin' without a whole inch of hide on one of them; my heart was as full as a bed-tick when I saw them. Devilskin you see is blind of the off eye ever since; and Firetail is in want of a nosthril.

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"Augh, any sort of sperrits at all, sometimes, sur; though, by my song, it's seldom I taste the likes ov this"--and another pot-full joined its fe!lows in Tom's interior. "Don't you think, sur, but the weather's mighty swelthry (sultry) for the season?" he added, drawing a long breath; "I'd recommend a thrifle of it to yourself, sur; it 'ill purvent the sun from preyin' on your complexion.” "Time enough, Tom; finish your story." "Why then, sur, I'll do that same," setting himself once more in his attitude of narration. "It was just yestherday evenin', by way of thinkin' o' nothin', I got a lift in O'Donnell's cart to see how affairs wer' goin' on down here in regard of the big, speckled throut undher the Sally, (sallow willow,) beyand-the big blackguard, you know, sur, that refused all the timptin' morsels I offered him, the last day we wer' out. Ned Flood advised me to thry him with the natheral fly; so I took a couple of blue-bottles in my pouch, detarmined on coaxin' his fancy. I crassed below at the shallows, and up wid me to the ould spot, where I soon spied my gay ogawney (loiterer), in a study stand seemin'ly as innocent as the calf that eat the wig for a wisp o' grass-but all the time as big a rogue as Pethereen Caum (little Crooked Peter) that stole the goold ov the priest's vestments, while hearin' mass. I dropped the fly quite sly about a yard above him, lettin' it gradually float down, wid a few twitches now and then to make him believe it was workin' in convul "Well, the next time I saw my friend the fairy," sions, and dyin' saft. Now, my bully boy,' sez I continued Tom, was as I'll tell you-and may this to meself; you're cottenin' to it.' It was too great be holy wather to coax me to mass, (another pull a temptation for his weak mind. I thought I'd at the warren') but he stood my friend this time gasp when I saw the way I was flakin' him; and I in earnest. You see the poor pig's house wanted a roared or laughed in a way that struck my body coverin' very badly, be reason I couldn't spare time like an aspen; but the robber o' the world twiggin to tatch it; but as I was comin' home one evenin' me turned tail, and thought to be off. I riz my by Jerry Finnegan's, the tithe procthur, may the hand, and struck at him, and that I may die dhrinkin' grass never grow on the sod that covers his corp--your health agin, sur-if I didn't drive the hook

'You see, sur," added Tom, parenthetically, after a grin, filling and emptying the warren, "it was all out of revinge of the cats-they lay in ambush to kill me; for I killed more wild cats than any other tin min in all Ireland."

'Aye, or tame cats either, Tom," I replied; for Tom was a general furrier; and no animal that ever wore a skin, no matter how mean, but he could find use for it. There was not an old woman within a circle of ten miles' diameter, keeping his own house as a centre, but was in his debt for a weasel-skin purse.

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