took you to be," observed Stinton; "but what security can you give us that you will leave the keg safely at its destination?" "If I thought you were Mr. Stinton, I'd be very glad to lave the whiskey where is, and even do without my breakfast. Gintlemen, tell me the truth, bekase I'd only be murdhered out of the face." "Why, you idiot," said the gauger, losing his temper and suspicions both together, "can't you go to the town and inquire where Mr. Stinton lives ?" 66 "Bedad, thin, thrue enough, I never thought of that at all at all; but I beg your pardon, gintlemen, an' I hope you won't be angry wid me, in regard that it's kilt and quartered I'd be if I let myself be made a fool of by anybody." "Do what I desire you," said the exciseman; "inquire for Mr. Stinton's house, and you may be sure that the whiskey will reach him." "Thank you, sir. Bedad, I might have thought of that myself." This last clause, which was spoken in a soliloquy, would have deceived a saint himself. "Now," said Stinton, after they had re-commenced their journey, are you satisfied?" 66 "I am at length," said Cartwright; "if his intentions had been dishonest instead of returning to make himself certain against being deceived, he would have made the best of his way from us; a rogue never wantonly puts himself in the way of danger or detection.” That evening, about five o'clock, Stinton, Cartwright, and two others arrived at the house of the worthy gauger, to partake of his good cheer. A cold frosty evening gave a peculiar zest to the comfort of a warm room, a blazing fire and a good dinner. No sooner were the viands discussed, the cloth removed, and the glasses ready, than their generous host desired his daughter to assist the servant in broaching the redoubtable keg. "That keg, my dear," he proceeded, "which the country lad, who brought the key of the cellar, left here to-day." "A keg ?" repeated the daughter with surprise. The gauger and Cartwright both groaned in unison. "No keg?" echoed Cartwright. "No keg, indeed," re-echoed Miss Stinton; "but there came a country boy with the key of the cellar, as a token that he was to get the five gallon———” "Oh," groaned the gauger, "I'm knocked up-outwitted; oh !" "Bought and sold,” added Cartwright. "Go on," said the gauger; "I must hear it out." "As a token," proceeded Miss Stinton, "that he was to get the five gallon keg on the little stillion, under the blunderbuss, for Captain Dalton." "And he got it?" "Yes, sir, he got it: for I took the key as a sufficient token.” "But, Maggy-hear me child-surely he brought a keg here, and left it; and of course it's in the cellar ?" "No, indeed, he brought no keg here; but he did bring the five gallon one that was in the cellar away with him." "Stinton," said Cartwright, "send round the bottle." "The rascal," ejaculated the gauger; "we shall drink his health." And on relating the circumstances, the company drank the sheepish lad's health, that bought and sold the gauger. THE IRISH MIDWIFE. The village of Ballycomaisy was as pleasant a little place as one might wish to see of a summer's day. It consisted principally of one long street, which you entered from the north-west side by one of those old-fashioned bridges, the arches of which were much more akin to the Gothic than the Roman. Most of the houses were of mud, a few of stone, one or two of which had the honor of being slated on the front side of the roof, and rustically thatched on the back, where ostentation was not necessary. There were two or three shops, a liberal sprinkling of public-houses, a chapel a little out of the town, and an old dilapidated market-house near the centre. A few little by-streets projected in a lateral direction from the main one, which was terminated on the side opposite to the north-west by a pound, through which, as usual, ran a shallow stream, that was gathered into a little gutter as it crossed the road. A crazy antiquated mill, all covered and cobwebbed with gray mealy dust, stood about a couple of hundred yards out of the town, to which two straggling rows of houses, that looked like an abortive street, hed you. This mill was surrounded by a green common, which was again hemmed in by a fine river, that ran round in a curving line from under the hunchbacked arch of the bridge we mentioned at the beginning. Now, a little behind, or rather above this mill, on the skirt of the aforesaid common, stood a rather neat looking whitish cabin, with about half a rood of garden behind it. It was but small, and consisted merely of a sleepingroom and kitchen. On one side of the door was a window, opening on hinges; and on the outside, to the right as you en tered the house, there was placed a large stone about four feet high, backed by a sloping mound of earth, so graduated as to allow a person to ascend the stone without any difficulty. In this cabin lived Rose Moan, the Midwife; and we need scarcely inform our readers that the stone in question was her mountingstone, by which she was enabled to place herself on pillion or crupper, as the case happened, when called out upon her usual avocation. Rose was what might be called a flahoolagh, or portly woman, with a good-humored set of Milesian features; that is to say, a pair of red, broad cheeks, a well-set nose, allowing for the disposition to turn up, and two black twinkling eyes, with a mellow expression that betokened good nature, and a peculiar description of knowing professional humor that is never to be met with in any but one of her calling. Rose was dressed in a red flannel petticoat, a warm cotton sack or wrapper, which pinned easily over a large bust, and a comfortable woolen shawl. She always wore a long-bordered morning cap, over which, while traveling, she pinned a second shawl of Scotch plaid; and to protect her from the cold night air, she enfolded her precious person in a deep blue cloak of the true indigo tint. Over her head, over cloak and shawl and morning cap, was fixed a black "splush hat," with the leaf strapped down by her ears on each side, so that in point of fact she cared little how it blew, and never once dreamed that such a process as that of Raper or Mackintosh was necessary to keep the liege subjects of these realms warm and water-proof, nor that two systems could exist in Ireland so strongly antithetical to each other as those of Raper and Father Mathew. Having thus given a brief sketch of her local habitation and personal appearance, we shall transfer our readers to the house of a young new-married farmer named Keho, who lived in a distant part of the parish. Keho was a comfortable fellow, full of good nature and credulity; but his wife happened to be one of the sharpest, meanest, most suspicious and miserable individuals that ever was raised in good-humored Ireland. Her voice was as sharp and her heart as cold as an icicle; and as for her tongue, it was incessant and interminable. Were it not that her husband, who, though good-natured, was fiery and resolute when provoked, exercised a firm and salutary control over her, she would have starved both him and her servants into perfect skeletons. And what was still worse, with a temper that was vindictive and tyrannical, she affected to be religious, and upon those who did not know her, actually attempted to put herself off as a saint. One night, about twelve months after his marriage, honest Corny Keho-came out to the barn, where slept his two farm servants, named Phil Hannigan ard Barny Casey. He had been sitting by himself, composing his mind for a calm night's rest, or probably for a curtain lecture, by taking a contemplative whiff of the pipe, when the servant wench, with a certain air of hurry, importance and authority, entered the kitchen, and informed him that Rose Moan must be immediately sent for. "The misthress isn't well, masther, an' the sooner she's sint for, the betther. So mind my words, sir, if you plaise, an' pack aff either Phil or Barny for Rose Moan, an' I hope I won't have to ax it again-hem!" Dandy Keho-for so Corny was called, as being remarkable for his slovenliness-started up hastily, and having taken the pipe out of his mouth, was about to place it on the hob; but reflecting that the whiff could not much retard him in the delivery of his orders, he sallied out to the barn and knocked. "Who's there? Lave that wid you, unless you wish to be shotted." This was followed by a loud laugh from within. "Boys, get up wid all haste: it's the misthress. Phil, saddle Hollowback and fly—(puff)—fly in a jiffy for Rose Moan; an’do you, Barny, clap a-back sugaun-(pufi)-an Sobersides, an' be aff for the misthress's mother-(puff.)" Both were dressing themselves before he had concluded, and in a very few minutes were off in different directions, each according to the orders he had received. With Barny we have nothing to do, unless tɔ say that he lost little time in bringing Mrs. Keho's mother to her aid: but as Phil is gone for a much more import |